MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The screen inside the stadium looped the slam again, Damon's German suplex from round two.

The angle showed Alex's body folding mid-air, his legs high, his shoulders crashing into the canvas. The crowd's reaction played beneath it, replay after replay.

Then the knockout kick.

That final exchange was now frozen in time on screens around the arena. Damon pulling the lead hand down, slipping the grip just long enough to clear a path.

Then the shin came up clean, cracked into the side of Alex's head. It was very sudden.

Damon sat on the stool, gulping water from the bottle Victor handed him. The noise around the cage was deafening, but he didn't say anything.

He just looked up briefly as the replays played again, eyes locked on the screen for a second before shifting back down.

Victor laughed as he leaned over. "That lead hand pull into a head kick? Jesus, that's cold."

Damon didn't answer. He just nodded once, still catching his breath. He hadn't expected the kick to end it. It was a calculated shot, not a gamble, but the result still surprised him.

On the other side of the cage, Alex had been sat up by the med team.

His eyes were open. Confused, but open.

They checked his jaw, neck, ran the standard light checks.

He blinked slowly, nodding as someone spoke close to his ear. Then he gave a weak thumbs up, and the crowd let out a collective sigh of relief.

The noise turned into applause, not for the result, but for the fight. For what both men had shown inside the cage.

Alex's corner gathered around him. They knew what had happened.

Meanwhile, Damon stood up from the stool.

Victor grabbed his wrist and raised it before the ref even did.

Their team entered the cage a second later, some clapping, some laughing, one of them just shaking his head. "You actually knocked him with that kick?"

Damon finally smiled a little. "Yeah. Didn't think it would land that clean."

The camera zoomed in on his face as the stadium lights dimmed slightly for the announcement.

But the moment didn't need words yet. The visuals said enough.

He wasn't just fighting anymore.

He was building a highlight reel that couldn't be ignored.

Damon truly hadn't expected the fight to end like that.

He had planned to punish Alex a little longer before releasing the clinch. His next step was to activate the King of the Cage eye.

That was the moment he'd been waiting for, to break Alex down fully, then finish it with precision.

But the kick ended it.

Alex dropped before Damon could even reset his stance. It wasn't a wild strike. It wasn't rushed. But it was clean and fast, and it landed harder than Damon expected.

Even Damon looked down in surprise.

He didn't say anything, but his posture told the story. He stood still for a few seconds longer than usual, staring at the man on the canvas.

Alex Tereira wasn't someone known for getting finished easily. In fact, only one fighter had ever dropped him before, Ismael Desayen, and even that had taken perfect timing.

This one came at the end of a clinch.

Just a grip break, a lead arm pulled down, and a high kick placed exactly where it needed to be.

He wasn't disappointed but the abruptness caught him off guard.

Now, with the fight over, the King of the Cage eye would have to wait.

Only after catching his breath did Damon fully register what had just happened.

He was the middleweight champion.

And the light heavyweight champion.

At the same damn time.

He sat still for a moment, holding the water bottle in one hand, breathing slow and deep. The realization washed over him, not in shock, but in quiet weight.

He looked over at Victor and said the words out loud, just to make sure they were real.

"I'm champ-champ."

Victor chuckled, a slow, proud laugh as he gave a short nod. "Yep. Look behind you."

Damon turned around.

His face broke into a genuine smile the second he saw them, four people who meant everything to him.

Svetlana stood near the cage gate, eyes glassy but proud.

Right beside her was her mother, Macey, holding her phone with one hand, recording every second.

Next to them stood his mother, Aoife, holding the smallest and most important person of them all.

Ava.

His little girl looked at him from her grandmother's arms, her tiny smile bright under the lights.

Damon's expression softened. He smiled wider than he had all night.

The belts could wait. The interviews could wait.

Right now, his family was here. And for the first time since the cage door closed… he felt it. He had really done it.

Damon also noticed something else.

Unlike his first title win, where the emotion had hit him hard, where he'd cried and sat on the mat overwhelmed by what he had just accomplished, this one felt different.

It was still exciting. It still meant everything. But it wasn't the same kind of shock or disbelief.

He wasn't stunned that he won.

He believed it. He had felt it before the fight even started.

There was no question in his mind that he belonged here, that he could beat Alex, and that becoming champ-champ wasn't some fluke or fairytale, it was the outcome of everything he had put in.

The preparation. The setbacks. The long hours in silence.

This time, it wasn't just emotion. It was confirmation.

And that feeling, that quiet certainty, set something else in motion.

A new mindset.

What else can I do?

What more can I accomplish?

He had just become a two-division champion. He was 30-0. Undefeated. Not just winning, but dominating. The streak was the longest in UFA history. He held that record now.

And yet… he was only twenty-four.

It was a strange thing to sit with. Most fighters his age were still trying to break into the top fifteen. Some were just getting their first UFA call. A lot hadn't even entered the UFA yet.

Many champions he had watched growing up hadn't hit their peak until they were pushing thirty. Some even later.

And here he was. Not at the end. Maybe not even at his prime. But already standing at the top of two divisions. Already a name etched into history.

It didn't make him feel finished. It made him wonder how far this could really go.

Because he wanted more.

He didn't know what more was.

But he wanted it.