MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The sarcastic hate for Damon Cross had long died out by the time this night arrived.

It was New Year's Eve, and the UFA had prepared an explosive card to kick off the year with a bang.

The arena buzzed with excitement as the event's commentators opened the show.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to an action-packed night of fights!" one commentator announced, his voice filled with energy.

The broadcast quickly shifted focus to the evening's matchups, building the hype for what promised to be a thrilling night of MMA.

"Right before we dive into the main card, we've got a matchup to watch out for, Ivan Novak versus Carl Waidmore," the second commentator added. "Carl, a former champion, is making his return tonight after recovering from a tough injury."

The first commentator nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. Carl's experience in grappling has always been a major strength, but he'll be facing Ivan Novak, a man on a tear. Fresh from the waters of The Supreme Fighter, Novak has been carving his way up the ranks with precision and brutality. This fight will be a huge test for both of them."

The energy in the arena began to build as they moved to the main card.

"And now, let's talk about the first main card fight of the night," the second commentator said, his voice brimming with anticipation. "We have Damon Cross, arguably the most well-rounded fighter in the division right now, taking on Donald Whittier."

"That's right," the first commentator chimed in. "Whittier, a veteran and former champion, is coming into this fight at a disadvantage after a tough loss streak. Damon, on the other hand, is riding the momentum of a spectacular win, highlighted by that standing choke that had everyone talking. This fight could solidify Damon's position as a true contender in the division."

"And if that wasn't enough," the second commentator continued, "we've got an incredible main event tonight: Alek Tereira defending his light heavyweight title. Alek has been nothing short of dominant, holding onto his belt with some impressive performances. Can he continue his reign, or will his opponent find a way to dethrone him?"

The camera panned across the roaring crowd, the energy palpable as fans eagerly awaited the night's fights.

It was a night filled with anticipation, one that promised to deliver fireworks from start to finish.

The night had kicked off, but Damon found himself less engrossed in the fights and more focused on chatting with Svetlana.

Sitting in the back room, he occasionally glanced at the screen showing the ongoing matches. While he always appreciated the sport, tonight's card had been underwhelming.

Svetlana sat beside him, her calm presence a welcome distraction from the uneventful bouts.

She wasn't one to watch his fights live often, usually opting to catch replays when the nerves weren't so intense, but tonight she'd come along, lending her support in person.

Victor was present as usual but wasn't in the room at the moment.

It wasn't unusual for Victor to step out; he always had something to manage on fight nights.

The fights on the card so far hadn't lived up to the hype.

They lacked the energy and thrill that usually drew Damon in.

It wasn't just him, there was a noticeable lack of excitement from everyone watching backstage even from the fans.

Edward had mentioned earlier in the week that he'd been scheduled to fight on this card but was cut at the last minute.

Damon joked in his mind that Edward might've been the only source of entertainment on this underwhelming night.

As the night progressed, Damon transitioned from casual chatting to preparation mode.

Dressed in his fight attire, he began running through some light drills, his body loosening up and his mind sharpening.

The muffled commentary from the TV in the corner caught his attention as the broadcast shifted to one of his most anticipated matches of the night.

"Well, the match is about to go underway, as the referee tells the fighters the rules," the commentator announced.

Damon's movements slowed as he turned his head toward the screen.

The bell rang.

"And here we go! The match is underway: Ivan Novak versus Carl Waidmore!"

Damon dropped what he was doing, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his eyes.

He grabbed a chair and planted himself in front of the TV, completely abandoning his drills.

Svetlana looked at him and also got more interested when seeing Damon's reaction.

As the bell rang, Ivan Novak stepped forward with a predatory focus. He looked larger, stronger, and more intimidating than ever.

His frame was carved for destruction, and with Kamil Murnamadov shouting instructions in Russian from his corner, he looked even more terrifying.

Carl Waidmore, the seasoned veteran, circled cautiously, his stance tight as he gauged Ivan's movements.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation as Ivan closed the distance methodically, his hands raised high.

Ivan opened with a sharp jab followed by a devastating right hook. Carl blocked it, but the sheer power of the strike sent him back a step.

Ivan pressed forward, firing off a quick combination that forced Carl to retreat further.

Carl threw a counter right hook that grazed Ivan's temple. Ivan stumbled ever so slightly, and Carl saw a glimmer of hope.

But from the corner, Kamil roared in Russian, his voice a booming command, "Иван, не пропускай удары! Забери его вниз!"

("Ivan, don't take hits! Take him down!")

Ivan's face hardened, and his entire demeanor shifted. He fainted a jab, causing Carl to flinch, then surged forward with explosive speed.

He shot for a double-leg takedown, lifting Carl off the ground with ease and slamming him into the canvas with a force that made the entire cage rattle.

The crowd erupted as Carl struggled beneath Ivan's weight, but Kamil's voice thundered again, "Держи позицию! Уничтожь его!"
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("Hold position! Destroy him!")

Ivan wasted no time. He locked Carl's arms and postured up, his massive frame towering over the pinned veteran.

Then came the storm.

Ivan's fists came down like hammers, each blow reverberating through the arena.

Carl tried to cover up, but Ivan's precision and power were relentless.

His elbows cut through Carl's defenses, and the sound of each strike made the crowd wince.

Kamil shouted again, "Бей сильнее! Закончи это!"

("Hit harder! Finish it!")

Carl's attempts to escape became weaker with every passing second, his movements sluggish and desperate.

Ivan kept raining punches, each one more brutal than the last.

The referee, realizing Carl was no longer intelligently defending himself, rushed in and waved off the fight.

He pushed Ivan away, shouting, "That's it! That's it!"

Ivan stood up, his chest heaving, as Carl lay motionless on the canvas, his face swollen and bloodied.

The fight had lasted barely a minute, and the crowd was stunned into silence before erupting into chaotic cheers

Ivan Novak had just dismantled a former champion with terrifying brutality.