MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The cage door shut behind the medical team as they checked on RRD, who sat upright now, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Blood still trailed along his eyebrow, but his expression was calm.

In the center of the octagon, Ivan Novak stood tall, sweat glistening down his torso, his chest rising in controlled breaths.

The cut under his left eye had opened slightly, but he didn't notice. His focus was straight ahead as he turned slowly in a circle, absorbing the roar of the crowd.

Cameras flashed. The stadium lights dimmed slightly, spotlighting the center of the cage.

Referee Garne Rowen stepped between the two corners and raised Ivan's wrist.

Then the booming voice of Deuce Baffer filled the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice perfectly paced and steady, "referee Garne Rowen has called a stop to this contest at four minutes, eleven seconds of Round Number Three…"

The crowd quieted slightly, holding breath for the announcement.

"…declaring the winner, by submission… via rear naked choke…"

The camera panned in on Ivan's face, as Ronan Black stepped and wrapped the belt around him.

"…and NEW… UFA INTERIM MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD…

IVANNNNNN!!!!

NOOOOOVAAAAK!!!!"

The crowd exploded. Chants of "NO-VAK! NO-VAK!" broke out around the venue.

Jon Goodman's voice came through on broadcast. "There it is! Interim gold wrapped around the waist of Ivan Novak. A relentless performance. Clean, controlled, and deadly when it mattered."

Marvin Duke added, "He wore RRD down, broke through every layer, and closed the show the way a top-level fighter should."

Ivan raised the belt with one hand while medical staff fastened it around his waist.

Rich Alvarez chimed in. "What's scary is how composed he stayed the entire time. Even in deep waters, he never lost the fight in his head."

Jim Logan stepped in for the post-fight interview. "Ivan, congratulations. That was an absolute war. And you closed it with a surgical finish. Talk me through that final sequence."

Ivan kept it short. "He's tough. He didn't give anything easy. But when I saw the back… I knew that was mine."

Logan followed up. "You're now the interim middleweight champion. One name looms large at the top of this division. Damon Cross. Do you want that fight next?"

Ivan smiled faintly. "That's the fight. No more words. Just tell me when."

Logan nodded. "There you have it. Ivan Novak, interim champion, and now the number one contender for the undisputed champion."

As Ivan Novak paced with the interim belt around his waist, the commentary team remained on air. Their energy hadn't dipped since the fight ended.

Jon Goodman spoke first. "That was a violent and technical finish. Novak stayed calm from start to end. He dealt with pressure, landed clean, and then closed it out with a textbook choke."

Rich Alvarez nodded. "He just broke RRD down. That's what you want in a top-tier fighter. Now the belt's his."

Marvin Duke leaned forward. "This changes everything. Everyone's been looking at Damon Cross. He's got the shot at becoming a two-division champ later tonight. But now? Novak just staked his claim. That's not just a contender, he's a real problem."

Jon followed up. "So now we wait. Either Damon walks into a unification bout as a two-division champion… or he steps into that cage with Ivan Novak after taking his first loss."

Rich added, "And either way, it's a huge fight. But if he loses tonight, everything shifts. Suddenly Novak's not chasing the champ, he's the top dog. And Damon becomes the hunted."

Marvin crossed his arms, eyes on the screen. "I'll say this, Novak seems ready. He doesn't rush, doesn't get emotional, and he's dangerous everywhere. That choke wasn't some lucky break. He earned every inch of it. If Damon wants to beat him, he has to be sharp and has to get out of his comfort zone."

Jon nodded. "And I know Damon's watching this right now. Win or lose later, that fight's coming. That's the collision course."

Damon stood up and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders once before stepping away from the screen.

The commentary was still going, but he had seen enough. Ivan had done what he needed to do, and now it was his turn.

He walked over to the prep table and began checking the tape, gauze, and gloves. Everything was laid out in order, exactly how he liked it.

Joey leaned against the wall, arms folded, still processing the fight.

"That's a good fighter right there," he said, glancing at Damon. "He's very similar to you."

Damon didn't look up. He started wrapping his left hand, keeping the tension even with each pass.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I saw it."

Ash smirked, leaning back against the locker wall with his arms crossed. "Pfft, you'll knock that sucker out," he said, dismissing the talk of Ivan Novak like it was already settled.

Victor didn't share the mood. He stepped between them with a clear voice, "Alright. Let's focus on Tereira for now. We'll talk about Novak after you finish your fight. Right now, we make sure the plan is intact."

Damon stood, finishing the wrap on his right wrist. He looked at both of them, then spoke flat.

"Pereira's a sniper. Everyone knows that. Left hook, straight right, low kick, he sets traps. Most guys panic after a few feints. They start backing up, circling into the cage, and that's when he chops them down or clips them clean."

He rolled his shoulders. "I'm not giving him that. I'm walking him down. Pressure, but smart. I'm not rushing in. I'm stepping just close enough to jam his range. He needs space to plant his hips and fire. If I'm in that middle ground, he's stuck between thinking and reacting."

Victor nodded. "What about the kicks?"

"I'm going to check the first one hard," Damon said. "Make him pay. Second one, I'll step into it, crowd the leg, force him off balance. After that, I want him thinking twice before throwing anything."

Joey asked, "You gonna wrestle?"

Damon heard the question and smirked.

Joey shook his head. "Bruh, you're dragging it."

"I'm not dragging anything," Damon said as he reached for the second roll of tape.

Joey exhaled, clearly not convinced. "You are. Everyone knows Tereira sucks on the ground. You even said it yourself a week ago, you were gonna take him down. So why even stand with him?"

Damon glanced up. "Where's the fun in that?"

Joey groaned. "It's not about fun. It's about doing the smart thing."

Damon stood, that same smile still on his face. "Now Joey... when have we ever done the smart thing?"

Ash burst out laughing in the corner. Victor, meanwhile, didn't say anything for a few seconds. He just looked at Damon with a mix of amusement and caution.

Eventually, Victor spoke. "You do what you want once you've got the read. But no brawling. If you see the takedown, take it. You want to break him down slow, fine, but no trading for no reason. Clear?"

Damon nodded once. "Clear."

Joey threw his hands up. "God help us if he starts showboating again."

Damon chuckled and started shadowboxing near the mirror, eyes focused and movements sharp. "Just trust me. He's not walking out with that belt."