MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The music hit hard, it was very loud. The bass rumbled through the arena, thumping in the chest of every person in the crowd. Bright lights pulsed to the beat, then cut out entirely.

For a moment, everything went black.

Then the light hit again, blinding white, sweeping across the tunnel entrance.

Damon stood at the front with his team behind him, Victor on one side, Joey and the other assistant coaches on the other.

The crowd erupted the moment they saw him. Some were screaming his name, others just shouting out of sheer excitement.

Cameras flashed, and chants tried to rise over the music but kept getting swallowed by the bass.

He stepped forward, arms loose at his sides, his head high.

He would never say it out loud, but deep down, he could never get tired of this.

The walk.

All eyes on him.

The people were expecting something great, and knowing he could deliver it. The pressure didn't crack him. It shaped him.

Joey leaned in behind him as they walked. "It's showtime."

Damon didn't respond. He just kept moving, his steps slow and certain. The light followed them down the tunnel as if the whole arena had been built just for this.

Fans on either side reached out over the railings. Some held signs, others their phones.

One little kid near the end had his face painted and held a homemade flag with Damon's name on it. Damon caught his eye for a second and gave a small nod.

When they reached the prep area near the cage, the music dipped just slightly.

Damon stepped forward, shirt off, The official looked at him with focused eyes. Damon complied, arms raised, legs spread. The official nodded.

"Gear check." Damon bit his mouthguard, the official looked, then nodded again. "Alright, wrap."

Damon moved aside. The official approached him. He tapped the gloves, checking tape and fit.

"Good."

Then he shined a flashlight under the gloves, no surprises. He patted Damon's limbs, scanned his shorts.

The official looked at Damon. "Cup check."

Damon patted his groin. The official nodded, then applied Vaseline across Damon's cheekbones, nose bridge, and brows in swift, practiced strokes.

"Good luck."

Damon nodded and turned, light on his feet. He bounced once, then moved toward Victor. They hugged quickly. Victor leaned in.

"Alright, son. Time to carve your name deeper into history."

Damon nodded. "Thank you."

He gave a glance to Joey and the other assistant coaches, he gave a nod of confidence.

Then he turned and stepped toward the cage. He crouched, touched the ground with both hands, and climbed the steps on all fours like a primate, a movement he hadn't done in years. It felt right tonight.

He entered the cage and stood up slowly, eyes scanning the space like he was taking in a familiar room after a long absence.

He walked the perimeter, hand grazing the cage wall, feeling the tension in it.

Alex Tereira hadn't come out yet.

Damon exhaled through his nose and kept moving, each step loose and smooth. It was quiet inside the cage, a bubble of stillness in the middle of chaos.

He was ready.

On the side of the cage, front row and close enough to see every breath he took, Svetlana sat beside Aoife and Macey.

The lights were bright, and the crowd buzzed around them, but their seats had just enough space and calm to talk over the noise.

Ava was on Svetlana's lap, clapping her hands gently and kicking her little feet against her mom's legs.

Her hair was tied into two small puffs, and she wore a little Damon Cross hoodie that hung loose on her shoulders.

Then she looked up and froze. Her eyes locked onto the man in the cage.

She stared for a second, then gasped.

"Dada!"

Her hands shot forward, pointing with both arms as she bounced on Svetlana's lap.

"Dada! Dadaaaa!"

Before Svetlana could stop her, Ava tried to wriggle down and run forward, her tiny legs kicking in determination.

Svetlana gently caught her around the waist. "Whoa, easy, baby. Daddy's working, okay?"

"Workin'?" Ava blinked up. "Dada work?"

"Yes, baby. Daddy has to finish first, then we can see him after."

Ava pouted, resting her head on her mother's chest for a moment before lifting it again. "He fightin'? Dada fight?"

"Yes," Svetlana said softly. "He's going to fight, but he's okay. He trained a lot."

"Why dada fight?"

Aoife smiled faintly at the question, her eyes never leaving the cage. Macey leaned in, watching Ava's curious face.

Svetlana answered carefully, "Because that's his job. He's the best at it."

Ava tilted her head. "He punch bad guys?"

"He punches... the other man, yes," Svetlana said, then kissed her forehead. "But they're both strong, it's just a sport."

Ava's eyes were wide. "He win?"

Svetlana smiled. "Yes. Daddy's going to win."

Ava pointed again. "He see me?"

"He will after," Svetlana said, brushing a curl behind Ava's ear. "Let's cheer quiet for now, okay?"

Ava nodded, then whispered loudly, "Go, Dada!"

Svetlana smiled. "That's perfect, baby."

Ava settled back in her lap, but kept her eyes on the cage, watching every move her father made, mouth slightly open in awe. The match hadn't even started yet and she was already impressed.

Aoife sat quietly, but her discomfort was obvious. Her fingers stayed clasped together in her lap, and her posture hadn't relaxed since the music started.

This was her first time watching Damon fight live. Not on a screen, not behind closed doors, right here, with her son walking into a cage just meters away.

She had never liked it. Not the crowds, not the shouting, and definitely not the violence. She didn't like how people treated it like a sport when it always felt like survival.

She hadn't wanted Ava here either. She had argued about it for days, but in the end, she'd given in.

She understood this was a big night for Damon. He had asked for them to be there, and she didn't want to repeat the mistake of missing another title moment.

She missed his first one. She stayed home and told herself it was better that way. But when the highlight reels played and the media celebrated, the guilt settled in.

Macey sat beside her, watching the same cage. She reached over and gave Aoife's wrist a small squeeze.

"He's good," she said. "You've seen how serious he is. He's not reckless."

Aoife nodded, but her eyes didn't leave the cage.

Macey didn't try to say more.

She had watched fights before, some of Victor's earlier bouts, back when their relationship was barely holding together.

She didn't always understand the sport, but she knew what it meant to be there.

And Damon was family. Maybe not by blood, but he loved her daughter, and that was enough.

She loved him like her own child, he was a wonderful man and was happy that her daughter and him treated each other well. She wanted him to know she was in his corner.