MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

"This next match, folks, is one we've all been waiting for," Jim Logan's voice boomed through the broadcast.

"Before we hit the main event, we've got Damon Cross going toe-to-toe with Landon Ellan."

Damien Korvier nodded beside him, leaning into his microphone.

"Absolutely, Jim. Damon Cross has been making waves, climbing the ranks faster than anyone expected. But Landon Ellan is no slouch, this guy's a seasoned, well-rounded fighter. This is going to be one hell of a test for both men."

Though this wasn't a pay-per-view event, the card had drawn considerable attention.

Headlined by the explosive Ismael Desayen, it was already a night fans wouldn't forget.

But at this moment, all eyes were on the co-main event.

The camera panned to Damon Cross walking through the tunnel, his trademark calm expression firmly in place.

His black and green fight kit hugged his lean, muscular frame as he made his way to the cage.

Behind him, Victor and the rest of his corner team followed closely, their faces a mix of focus and encouragement.

"Damon Cross, undefeated at 9-0," Jim continued, "is coming off a dominant submission win against a grappling specialist. He's proven he's not just a striker anymore. This fight with Ellan could cement his place among the division's elite."

"Agreed," Damien chimed in. "But Landon Ellan is ranked ninth for a reason. He's faced tough opponents, and his ability to adapt is second to none. This fight could go anywhere, striking, grappling, wrestling, it's all on the table."

Landon Ellan had already gone inside. He was calm but tense.

Jim Logan chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair as the camera zoomed in on Damon Cross walking out. "You know, Damien, I've been keeping an eye on this kid since The Supreme Fighter. The guy's got serious talent, but this is a different level now."

Damien Korvier nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, Damon's one of those fighters who just makes you go, 'How far can he go?' But Landon Ellan, man, he's been in some wars. This fight? It's not gonna be a walk in the park for Damon."

"I'm with you on that," Jim added, watching as Damon made his way toward the octagon. "The thing about Damon, though, is he doesn't just fight to win—he fights to dominate. He's calm, collected, and that last fight where he subbed Armansson? People weren't ready for that."

Damien laughed. "Oh, you mean when everyone thought he was just a striker? Yeah, that submission shut a lot of people up. But this is Landon we're talking about, a guy who's never been submitted, so I do hope he doesn't bite more than he can chew"

"Or," Jim countered, leaning forward slightly, "he's about to prove to everyone why he's the future of the division. And to disagree, Landon Ellan has been knockout, and we do know of the power Damon has in those hands."

As the commentary continued, the camera shifted to Damon and his team walking through the tunnel.

Victor was right next to him, his tone steady but firm as he leaned in close.

"You're doing good, Damon. Remember everything we worked on, especially what you learned about him. You've got this."

Damon gave a small nod, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

He kept his attention on the path ahead and didn't say anything.

There was more noise from the crowd with each step, but Damon stayed relaxed and his breathing stayed even.

Edward wasn't with them today, he had his own fight preparation to handle.

It was just Victor and the rest of the team. And that was fine with Damon. He trusted them implicitly.

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They reached the official, where Damon stopped briefly.

The inspector gave him a once-over, checking his gloves and making sure everything was in order.

The check was quick and efficient, the official giving Damon the nod to proceed.

Without hesitation, he turned toward the cage door, the sound of the crowd roaring faintly in the background.

As he approached the steps leading into the octagon, Damon paused, a fleeting thought crossing his mind.

Should he do it?

Without overthinking, he went down, his knuckles brushing the mat as he crawled up the stairs like a primal predator.

The movement was purposeful and animalistic, and with his towering frame and lean musculature, it made for an intimidating sight.

The crowd responded right away, and a wave of excitement went through the building.

Damon didn't think of himself as intimidating, not in the traditional sense.

He had no tattoos or inked stories on his skin.

And while he bore a scar on his back, it wasn't something fans knew the story behind.

To the world, he was a clean slate, his mystique rooted not in appearances but in action.

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside.

Not now.

This wasn't the time for distractions, not with a fight just moments away.

As he entered the cage, he straightened up, standing tall, his focus narrowing to a razor's edge.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

He cleared his head, letting the energy of the moment wash over him.

These weren't the thoughts to have before or during a fight.

As Damon stood into the cage, he quickly looked around at the crowd before focusing on his opponent, who was standing at the other end of the cage and lightly bouncing on his toes.

Landon Ellan was a sturdy middleweight with a compact build and broad shoulders.

His short, dark brown hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him a clean, composed look.

Wearing purple fight shorts with white trim, he looked ready and focused, his movements calm and deliberate.

Landon's demeanor was serious, exuding the confidence of a fighter who had seen it all in the octagon.

There was a moment of tension in the air as the two attackers locked eyes.

Damon, meanwhile, stood in his corner, bouncing lightly on his toes, his shoulders loose as he stayed warmed up and ready.

He didn't take his eyes off Landon, studying his opponent's every move.

This was the moment he had been waiting for.