MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat
Chapter 661 - 661: The Official Decision

Damon stood in the center of the cage, sweat still clinging to his body.

His breathing was steady. His coaches stood behind him, proud but quiet, letting the moment build.

Across from him, Nankalayev kept his head up, still composed despite the loss. The cutman held a towel to his eyebrow, but his eyes never dropped.

The referee stepped between them, gripping both fighters' wrists. Deuce Baffer, standing just outside the frame with his mic in hand, raised his voice over the sound of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "referee Nark Gokdart has called a stop to this contest at three minutes, forty-two seconds of Round Three. Declaring the winner, by submission—"

The crowd was already reacting, noise building with every word.

"—and STILLLLLLLLLL UNDEFEATED...

DAMON!!!!! 'THE RONIN!!!!' CROSS!!!"

The arena exploded. Damon raised both arms, nodding as his team swarmed in.

Victor clapped a hand on his shoulder, while another coach handed him the Irish flag, which Damon draped over his back without saying anything. His mouthguard was still in. He looked calm.

Nankalayev gave a respectful nod and walked over. Damon turned and the two shared a brief handshake.

The cameras caught every second. Fans were already posting clips of the submission.

Slow-motion replays ran on the screen above, showing the final choke and the transition before it.

The commentators spoke as the scene settled.

"That was a clinic," one of them said. "Damon Cross just submitted one of the best defensive wrestlers in the division."

His co-commentator agreed. "That submission wasn't luck. He set it up across rounds. He made Nankalayev adjust, then capitalized on every mistake."

Damon walked toward the center of the cage again, this time for the post-fight interview.

The flag still hung over his back. The crowd was still roaring. He didn't smile for the cameras. He just nodded once and waited.

He had done what he came to do.

One of the commentators, Rich Aldarez, stepped away from the desk and walked toward the cage.

He wore a dark blazer and held the mic with practiced ease. The crowd noticed immediately, and the volume dipped just slightly in anticipation.

Damon stood in the center, still breathing steadily, the flag hanging off his shoulders. Rich gave him a short nod before raising the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with your winner, still undefeated, your middleweight champion, Damon Cross."

The crowd responded with another wave of cheers. Damon gave a small smile, but he kept his posture relaxed.

"Damon, that was one of the most composed and technical performances we've seen in this division," Rich said. "You just submitted a guy known for being almost impossible to finish. Walk us through what that moment was like."

Damon shrugged slightly, his voice low but clear. "I was just following my body. I didn't think too much about it. We'd drilled a lot of those transitions. It felt right in the moment, so I trusted it."

Rich nodded. "It looked like you were making reads the whole time, adjusting, reacting. Did anything surprise you about Nankalayev in there?"

"He's strong," Damon said. "Smart, too. You don't get to his level by being easy to deal with. He made me work for every inch. I respect that."

There was a brief pause before Rich leaned in slightly. "You've now submitted one of the toughest light heavyweights in the game, and you're undefeated. What's next?"

Damon didn't hesitate. "The title."

That answer pulled another wave of noise from the crowd. Damon glanced around once, then looked back at Rich.

"I came up to this division to prove I can compete at the top," he continued. "That's two fights now. I've shown I can strike, I can wrestle, I can finish. I'm not here to waste time. I want that belt."

Rich Alvarez leaned in, holding the mic steady.

"One more before I let you go," he said. "Alex Tereira's watching. You just called for his belt. Do you have a message for the champ?"

Damon didn't answer right away. He looked at the camera.

Then he raised one hand and said it loud, with a small grin.

"Chama!"

The crowd roared.

Rich chuckled, backing off with a smile. "That says it all."

Rich raised his eyebrows, nodding. "Well, I think you've made your case loud and clear. Damon Cross, ladies and gentlemen."

Damon stepped back as the crowd roared again. He didn't raise his arms. He just looked into the camera, jaw set, and gave a single nod before turning to his team.

Victor clapped his back and leaned in to say something, but Damon just kept walking toward the cage door. His message had already been delivered.

Damon stepped through the tunnel into the hallway behind the arena. His body was still buzzing with adrenaline, but his face relaxed the moment he saw them.

His mother stood holding Ava, who squirmed excitedly in her arms. Svetlana was beside her, smiling wide, already moving toward him.

Damon walked over and reached out. Ava stretched toward him with both hands, babbling the second she was in his arms.

"Da-da-da-da! Boom! Da-boom! Go-go, fight!"

He laughed and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, baby. Daddy won."

Ava slapped her tiny hand against his shoulder. "Punch! Punch! Boom!"

Svetlana leaned in and kissed him softly. "You did it."

He nodded and held Ava tighter. She kept babbling, half words, half sounds, as if she was telling him every moment she'd seen or imagined.

"Damon... go pow! Pow! Boom!" She made a little fist and waved it in the air.

He smiled and looked down at her. "You're gonna be trouble."

Svetlana chuckled. "She didn't even blink when they cheered. Just stared at the screen like she knew."

Damon glanced at his mother, who gave him a proud nod.

Damon shifted Ava in his arms so she was sitting more comfortably against his chest.

Her little hands clung to his shirt as she looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Dada win?" she asked, the words soft and wobbly.

Damon smiled. "Yeah, baby. Daddy won."

She tilted her head. "You hit big man?"

He nodded, still grinning. "I did."

Ava made a little fist and tapped it softly against his chest. "Pow-pow?"

"Exactly," he said. "Pow-pow. Then he fell down."

She blinked, thinking. "He cwy?"

Damon held back a laugh. "Maybe inside."

Ava scrunched her nose, then pointed a finger at him. "No cwy, Dada. You 'trong."

He nodded. "I didn't cry."

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. "Wuv you, Dada."

"I love you too, baby girl."

She patted his shoulder, then whispered like it was a secret, "Next time... you fwy."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Fly?"

Ava nodded seriously. "Like bird. Boom! Kick!"

He laughed and looked over at Svetlana, who was trying not to laugh herself.

"I guess next time I'll fly, huh?" he said, kissing the top of Ava's head.

She nodded, satisfied with that answer. "You fwy. Den win 'gain."