MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon capitalized on the moment, stepping forward with a lightning-fast right hand that caught Mikal on the temple as he landed.

Mikal staggered slightly, but recovered, bouncing back on his feet.

Damon noted the reaction. Mikal's chin was good, but the shot had landed clean.

If he could string his attacks together, he might be able to overwhelm him.

Mikal pressed forward again, switching stances fluidly.

He fired a low kick, then immediately leapt into a flying knee. Damon sidestepped, his movements sharp and calculated.

As Mikal landed, Damon fired a hard body kick, the sound echoing through the arena.

Mikal grunted, his body jerking slightly from the impact. He backed off, his hands dropping for a moment.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Demien Korvier said. "Damon is staying calm and picking his shots. That body kick was beautiful."

Mikal circled, shaking out his arms. His grin had faded, replaced by a look of focus.

He darted in again, throwing a flurry of punches, two hooks and a straight.

Damon blocked most of them, but the last hook clipped him on the side of the head, forcing him to step back.

Mikal smelled blood, pressing forward with a spinning back kick aimed at Damon's midsection.

Damon absorbed the blow on his arms, the impact stinging but manageable.

He planted his feet, firing back with a sharp elbow as Mikal stepped in too close.

The elbow landed clean on Mikal's jaw, sending him stumbling to the side.

"Damon's striking is so precise," Jim Logan said. "Every shot has a purpose. He's not wasting energy."

Mikal recovered quickly, bouncing on his toes again.

He was clearly trying to reassert his rhythm, but Damon could see the cracks starting to form.

Mikal was slowing down, his movements a fraction less sharp.

The body kick had taken its toll, and the constant pressure was wearing on him.

Damon stayed patient, moving forward with calculated aggression. He fired a low kick, then a jab-cross combination that forced Mikal to retreat.

Damon pressed the advantage, throwing a feint to draw Mikal's guard up before stepping in with a powerful left hook to the body.

The shot landed hard, and Mikal's face twisted in pain. He backed up, his hands dropping slightly as he tried to recover.

Damon didn't let him off the hook. He followed up with a series of strikes. another low kick, a right hand, and a high kick that Mikal barely managed to block.

The crowd was on their feet as the momentum shifted fully in Damon's favor.

"Damon Cross is turning up the heat!" Demien Korvier shouted. "Mikal's on the defensive now!"

Damon stayed focused, his mind clear. He wasn't just fighting Mikal, he was fighting the game plan he'd built in the weeks leading up to this moment.

And so far, it was working.

The round ended with Damon landing a clean jab that snapped Mikal's head back just as the horn sounded.

Both fighters returned to their corners, sweat dripping and chests heaving.

"That was an incredible round," Jim Logan said. "Damon Cross is showing composure beyond his years, but Mikal Tereira is still dangerous. This fight is far from over."

Damon sat on his stool while his coaches talked him through some changes.

He paid close attention, but his mind was already thinking about the first round and getting ready for the next one.

Victor stood next to Damon, and his calm attitude kept the energy in the corner steady.

He didn't give Damon the normal criticism and advice; instead, he gave him a thumbs up.

"You're looking sharp out there, kid," Victor said, patting Damon on the shoulder. "Keep that same focus."

As he leaned back on the stool, Damon took a big breath. His chest rose and fell in a rhythmic way.

His coach poured water over his head, and it ran down his face and cooled his skin.

Ty, standing nearby with the rest of their crew, couldn't resist chiming in. "You're not gonna take it to the ground? All that training in BJJ and wrestling, I thought you'd at least test it out."

Damon smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he glanced at Ty. "His ground game is ass," Damon replied casually, wiping his face with a towel. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ty raised an eyebrow. "The fun? What are you, crazy? You could finish this fight easy."

Damon shook his head, his smile widening. "Easy doesn't make me better. I want to improve. If I can get a real challenge, I'll learn more about myself. That's what matters."

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a faint hint of approval in his expression.

He crossed his arms, speaking firmly but without judgment. "Just don't get reckless. I get what you're saying, but make sure you're still in control."

Damon nodded, his grin fading slightly as he took Victor's words to heart. "I've got this," he said confidently.

The team stepped back as the second-round bell echoed through the arena. Damon stood, bouncing lightly on his feet, his eyes focused as he prepared to meet Mikal in the center of the cage once again.

"Alright," Victor said, clapping him on the back. "Go remind him why you will take his rank."

Damon grinned as he stepped forward, the noise of the crowd swelling in his ears.

The commentators leaned in as the fighters rose from their corners.

"The break is over," Jim Logan said, his voice excited. "The coaches have given their advice, and now we're heading into the second round. In the first round, Damon was absolutely in control. Let's see if he can keep that momentum going."

"Yeah," Demien Korvier added. "But let's not count out Mikal just yet. He's unpredictable, and he's not one to back down easily. Let's see how he adjusts."

The bell rang, signaling the start of the round.

Damon stepped forward immediately, his stance lighter than before, his movements sharp and deliberate.

Mikal mirrored him, his grin returning as he began bouncing on his toes, ready to close the distance.

But Damon had other plans.

Before Mikal could settle into his rhythm, Damon exploded forward with a rapid series of strikes.

His elbow darted out like a piston, catching Mikal's guard as the crowd roared at the sudden aggression.

"Whoa! Damon's coming out fast this round!" Jim exclaimed. "This is not the patient striker we saw earlier!"

Mikal's eyes widened slightly, his grin faltering as Damon followed the elbow with a flurry of punches.

A sharp jab connected, snapping Mikal's head back, followed by a hook that forced him to cover up.

Demien's voice rose. "Damon's switched gears! He's turning up the pressure, not giving Mikal any room to breathe!"

Mikal tried to circle out, but Damon stayed on him, his strikes relentless.

He mixed in a few feints, keeping Mikal guessing, before subtly stepping back just out of range.

Sensing a chance to reset, Mikal lowered his hands slightly, but Damon was already in motion.

Damon shot forward again, driving a knee up toward Mikal's midsection. Mikal instinctively raised his leg to check the strike, his shin meeting Damon's knee just in time.

But Damon wasn't finished.

Without losing balance, Damon allowed the knee to withdraw just enough for the tip of his foot to brush the canvas.

Then, in one fluid motion, his leg shot back up like a coiled spring, this time aiming for Mikal's head.