Undefeated, underfunded, unshaken: From Bully Target to Muay Thai World Champion
An Interview with Alain-Picu Dupont By Ollimono Magazine | Published 13/11/2025
When Alain-Picu Dupont arrived in Cyprus as a kid, he didn’t speak the language and didn’t look like everyone else. School wasn’t easy. “I was getting bullied because I was different,” he says simply. “I needed to do something to protect myself.”
He found an underground gym, a few heavy bags, and people who didn’t care where he came from as long as he put in the work. That’s where it started. Today, Alain is the 2025 WMO World Champion in Muay Thai at 81 kg. Still only 21, undefeated, and still figuring things out one step at a time.
This is not a fairy-tale version of a fighter’s life. It’s a story about control, small wins, pain, and the search for a next step that feels almost impossible in a small country with limited support.
The ceiling in Cyprus
Alain’s story is as much about where he wants to go as where he came from. He has won every fight available to him in Cyprus. The problem is that “every fight available” isn’t many. “I beat everyone in my category,” he says. “To fight them again is a waste of my time and theirs.”
He talks about the island with affection and frustration mixed together. Cyprus gave him the place to grow, but it also limits how far he can take this career. “Here, even if people know you, they don’t always wish the best for you,” he says. “There’s jealousy, and there’s no real system for supporting fighters.”
The plan now is Thailand. Not for tourism or escape, but to live and train in the birthplace of the sport. He has a realistic plan: move there for three months in 2026, train twice a day, fight regularly, and get noticed by bigger organizations. It’s not a dream built on imagination; it’s about being in the right environment. “There I can focus, no distractions, no noise,” he says.
The obstacle is money. “To do it properly, I need around thirty thousand euros a year,” he says. That covers training, rent, food, and competitions. So far, no major sponsor in Cyprus has stepped up. The irony isn’t lost on him, he’s a world champion who still needs to find part-time work to pay for the next flight.
The mind inside the fight
Most fighters talk about physical strength. Alain talks about IQ. “Everybody can train, everybody can build muscle,” he says. “But not everyone can think fast when it hurts.”
For him, the first round isn’t so much about power, it’s more about reading. “We scan them,” he explains. “What’s weak, what’s strong.” He studies distance, timing, small habits. “If someone’s shorter, I keep distance. If taller, I go close. Every opponent needs something different.”
That ability to adapt keeps him calm when others lose control. “I like mind games,” he says. “Even if he hits me clean, I go forward. It makes him question himself.”
When he talks about fighting, it sounds more like a strategy discussion than an adrenaline story. “If I fight angry, I lose control,” he says. “You have to be calm to make the right decisions.”
Alain Picu Dupont, Limassol, Cyprus. Photo: © 2025 Niko Karle / Ollimono Media for OLLIMONO Magazine
Undefeated doesn’t mean untested
Alain Dupont has never lost a fight, but he’s honest about the fact that it will happen one day. “I’m ready for it,” he says. “When it comes, I’ll learn from it.” He repeats that without hesitation. “The best way to learn is to fail. I tell myself before every fight, maybe it’s today. And then I train harder.”
He smiles when he says he has “never lost, thank God,” but you can see he doesn’t measure success only by results. Some of his proudest moments came when he had to stay calm in chaos.
There was a European Muay Thai championship fight against an experienced Armenian fighter in front of his home crowd. Alain stayed patient. “He was emotional, angry,” he says. “I was calm.” By the third round, the other man quit mid-fight.
Then there was Thailand, the world Muay Thai championship final. First kick from the American opponent, and Alain’s arm went numb. “It felt like electricity,” he says. “But I didn’t panic. I adapted.” He went on to win the fight and the title.
Pain and what to do with it
Pain comes up often in his stories, but he never dramatizes it. “Pain is part of it,” he says. “The more pain you feel, not just physical but mental, the more you can transform it.”
He knows what he’s talking about. After losing his father, he crashed his motorcycle forty days later. Broken tibia, cracked ribs, pelvis injury. Doctors told him not to fight again. “They put metal in my leg,” he says. “I fought with it inside, and I never lost.”
He says it without pride or rebellion. “You can use pain,” he explains. “Or you can let it use you.”
A few days before this accident, Alain fought a former classmate. “We went to the same school,” he says. “He trained too, but I didn’t know he was competing.” The fight ended in less than ten seconds. Alain landed a kick, and the other guy collapsed. “He didn’t move for five minutes,” he remembers quietly. “His eyes rolled back. I was scared.”
That moment changed the way he looks at the sport. “It’s not a game,” he says. “You can really hurt someone, even if you don’t want to. People die from this.” His mother still avoids watching him fight. “She came to one fight in all these years,” he adds. “She’s too afraid. She knows what can happen.”
During the interview, we can’t help but notice Alain’s ear, so we ask. He points to it, now slightly misshaped. “I got it in Thailand, in the world Muay Thai championship final,” he says. “A spinning heel kick caught me right here.” He gestures to the top of his ear. “At first, I thought it fell off. It swelled like a balloon.” The injury had to be drained several times after the fight. “Now it’s hard, you can’t really feel it,” he says. “It’s part of the job.”
The hidden part of the job
A fight lasts minutes. The preparation takes months. Alain trains twice a day, runs, swims, cycles, and keeps a strict diet. He can cut up to fourteen kilograms for a fight, then gain nine back within twenty-four hours. “If I don’t cut, I fight bigger guys,” he explains. “Everybody does it. You just have to do it safely.”
During fight week, he goes offline. “No phone,” he says. “I need to be alone with my thoughts.” He watches videos of opponents, studies habits, plans his adjustments. “You have to be calm,” he repeats. “Especially when you’re hungry and angry.”
His biggest mental routine isn’t about motivation; it’s about simplicity. “I listen to blues before fights,” he says. “It slows me down. If I get too hyped, I fight wrong.”
Teaching makes you better
When he’s not training for himself, Alain Dupont trains others. It’s his job, but it’s also part of his development. “When you teach the basics eight times a day, they get into your body,” he says.
He focuses on simple, repeatable actions. “Low kick, jab, again and again,” he says. “That’s what wins fights. Not the crazy stuff.” He smiles a little at that. “Everyone wants spinning kicks, but basics are what break people.”
The gym also gives him community. “I work with people who don’t fight, but they learn discipline,” he says. “That’s what this sport teaches first.”
The reality of small sports
The economics of Muay Thai in Cyprus are rough. Fighters often pay to participate, including the belt if they win it. “It’s not like football,” he says. “There you run for ninety minutes and get millions. Here you can die, and you pay to enter.”
He doesn’t say it with bitterness, just fact. “I love Cyprus, but we need a system,” he adds. “If you want to keep athletes here, you have to make it possible for them to live.”
For now, he’s building connections, talking to potential sponsors, and using social media to show his work. He understands what sponsors look for: visibility, discipline, professionalism and he’s ready to offer all of that.
Alain Picu Dupont, Limassol, Cyprus. Photo: © 2025 Niko Karle / Ollimono Media for OLLIMONO Magazine
What comes next
At 22, Alain’s goals are direct. “By twenty-six or twenty-seven, I want to fight in ONE Championship,” he says. “Before that, Thailand. Learn more, get stronger, stay humble.”
He knows it’s a long game. “I don’t need luxury,” he says. “Just a house, food, and peace of mind.” After fighting, he wants to open a gym of his own. “Somewhere a kid can find the same thing I found,” he says. “A place that gives him purpose.”
What stays constant
Ask him about legacy and he thinks for a few seconds. “I don’t want to be remembered as the guy who had potential and didn’t use it,” he says. “If I can be an example for people who went through hard times and still moved forward, that’s enough.”
High-performance life, in his definition, isn’t about medals or fame. “It’s being healthy, close to people you love, and being okay inside,” he says.
Fighting gave Alain structure, but it also took pieces from him. Time, health, quiet. He knows it cannot last forever. “This sport gives you everything and takes everything,” he says. “I’ll fight as long as my body lets me, then I’ll teach.”
He talks about the future without pretending to know what it looks like. Maybe Thailand, maybe back in Cyprus, maybe somewhere in between. What matters is to stay disciplined and clear-headed. “If I stop training, I start losing myself,” he says. “Fighting keeps me normal.”
The world champion title sounds big, but Alain treats it like a checkpoint, not a destination. The next fight, the next adaptation, the next small improvement, that’s the focus. The rest, as he likes to put it, “is just noise.”