MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Balim's voice cut through the noise, loud and commanding. "Be patient! Don't rush!" he yelled at Logan from the side of the cage.

Logan, breathing heavily, heard his coach but his frustration was evident.

The round had just started, and he had already gone for more than two takedown attempts, each one failing to find its mark.

Damon had sprawled, countered, and stayed light on his feet, making it difficult for Logan to execute his game plan.

Now, Logan took a step back, shaking his head as if to clear the frustration.

He knew he needed to slow down, control his movements, and pick his moments.

Damon, on the other side, felt a surge of pride.

His training was being put to the test, and each failed takedown attempt by Logan only meant one thing: his work was paying off.

Every sprawling drill, every counter-move drilled in camp was serving him well.

Damon bounced on his feet, his muscles coiled, waiting for Logan's next move.

He was glad his training was shining through in real time, it meant he wasn't just surviving, he was learning, polishing his skills as he fought.

Logan circled, eyes locked on Damon, and for the first time in the fight, he seemed to be taking his time.

Damon wasn't about to let his guard down, though.

He threw a sharp jab, testing Logan's patience, followed by a low leg kick that thudded against Logan's thigh.

Logan flinched but stayed calm, absorbing the kick as he took a step forward, his eyes still calculating.

Damon smirked, feeling the fight slowly tilting in his favor.

The patience of his opponent was a double-edged sword, it gave Logan focus, but it also allowed Damon to dictate the pace.

Suddenly, Logan threw a quick one-two combination, forcing Damon to duck and weave.

Damon countered with another leg kick, chopping at Logan's base, making sure to keep him guessing.

From the corner, Whittier yelled, "Stay on him, Damon! Keep working the legs!"

Damon nodded subtly, keeping his distance and sticking to the plan.

Damon threw a powerful leg kick, which Logan managed to check, but Damon had no intention of letting up.

He immediately followed with a quick left hook aimed at Logan's side.

Logan barely dodged it, his reflexes sharp, but in that moment of defense, Logan saw an opportunity and threw a counter punch.

Damon, always watching, dropped low under the punch, expertly slipping it, and with a burst of power, he surged forward, driving Logan toward the cage with a solid push.

Logan's back hit the fence with a thud, and for a brief moment, the fight paused.

Both men locked eyes, their breaths heavy, their bodies coiled like springs.

Logan braced himself, expecting more of Damon's measured strikes. But Damon had something else planned, something Logan wouldn't see coming.

Damon kept the pressure on, throwing a few sharp body shots to keep Logan on the defensive, making him focus low.

Each punch landed with a satisfying thud against Logan's ribs, forcing him to lower his guard.

Damon was setting the trap, making Logan believe the fight was still focused on these short, hard strikes.

Then, without warning, Damon shifted his weight, feinting a jab to Logan's midsection.

Logan instinctively dropped his hands to block, and that's when Damon struck.

With explosive power, Damon launched into the air, driving his knee straight toward Logan's head.

PAHHHH!

The sound echoed through the room, a deafening crack that made the crowd gasp.

Logan's eyes widened in shock just as the knee connected flush with his jaw.

The impact was brutal, his body instantly going limp as the force of the blow knocked him backward.

Logan collapsed, his body crumpling against the cage before sliding to the canvas, completely motionless.

The room fell silent for a split second, stunned by the suddenness of the knockout.

The jumping knee had come out of nowhere, executed with perfect timing and devastating accuracy.

Damon stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The fight was over. He had set the trap, and Logan had walked right into it.

But even as the silence lingered and the medics rushed to Logan's side, Damon didn't look down at his fallen opponent.

Instead, something deeper compelled him to lock eyes with someone else. He turned his gaze toward Belam Chemasov.

Standing over Logan's unconscious body, Damon stared at Chemasov, his chest still heaving from the intensity of the fight.

It wasn't just a stare, it was something more, a subtle challenge, a declaration without words.

Damon didn't know if it was his growing confidence, adrenaline, or something else driving him to do it, but in that moment, he felt the need to direct his attention to the legendary coach.

Belam wasn't one to miss such moments.

He stood there, arms crossed, and though his fighter had just been knocked out cold, Chemasov's expression didn't waver.

Instead of anger or frustration, he smirked, acknowledging the unspoken message Damon was sending.

Damon smirked back.

For a moment, the exchange between fighter and coach went unnoticed by most, still stunned by the ferocity of the jaw-breaking knee.

But that silent connection, one of mutual respect, maybe even foreshadowing.

It wasn't until one of Damon's teammates broke the silence with an excited cheer that the rest of the room snapped out of their daze.

The cheers erupted, filling the space as Team Whittier surged toward the cage, clapping and shouting in celebration.

Damon's team poured into the octagon, crowding around him, lifting his spirits even higher as they patted him on the back.

All the while, medics were tending to Logan, who had started groaning as consciousness slowly returned.

The fight was over, but for Damon, it felt like something much bigger had just begun.

Hank Binn grabbed Damon's wrist and stepped into the center of the cage.

The noise of the surrounding fighters began to fade as the referee prepared to make the official announcement.

With the microphone in his hand, Hank's voice echoed through the arena.

"And the winner by KO, advancing to the Quarterfinals... Damon Cross!"

As he raised Damon's hand high into the air, the cheers erupted once more.

Damon's teammates roared in celebration, clapping him on the back while cameras flashed from every direction, capturing the moment.

This win was just a step toward his ultimate goal. He allowed himself a brief smile before glancing toward his coaches, giving them a nod of gratitude.

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