MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The fight was getting closer, and with it came the weigh-ins and the conference. Damon made the drive out to Las Vegas, but this time, he wasn't alone.

Svetlana and Ava came with him, turning the trip into something more than just business.

For Ava, it was her first time in Vegas. The two-year-old sat in her car seat with her face pressed to the window, her eyes wide at the sight of the skyline.

The massive hotels, the flashing billboards, and the endless stretch of neon lit up her expression with wonder.

She pointed with both hands every few seconds, babbling out her excitement in a way that made Damon and Svetlana laugh.

"Big house!" Ava exclaimed as they passed one of the casinos, her little voice filled with awe.

Svetlana leaned over to adjust her seatbelt, smiling. "Not a house, baby. A hotel."

Damon glanced at them in the mirror, a small grin on his face despite the weight of the week ahead.

He had been to Vegas countless times, but seeing it through Ava's eyes made it feel new again. For a moment, the stress of fight week eased.

They pulled into the hotel where the UFA had set them up.

Security and staff were already waiting, cameras lingering at a distance to catch even the smallest glimpse of fighters arriving.

Damon parked, stepped out, and opened the back door to lift Ava from her seat. She clung to him, still pointing toward the towering buildings around them.

"Daddy, big lights," she said, her voice hushed like she was looking at magic.

"Yeah," Damon replied softly, resting her against his chest. "Big lights."

Svetlana slipped her hand into his as they walked through the entrance together.

Inside, the lobby buzzed with energy, fighters checking in, reporters hovering near the velvet ropes, and fans lingering in hopes of catching photos.

Damon ignored the noise, focusing only on his family as they headed toward the reception desk.

The weigh-ins and conference were set for the next day, and the eyes of the fight world were already turning toward him.

But for now, Damon let Ava's laughter and Svetlana's quiet smile take the edge off the storm waiting for him.

The next day, the weigh-ins began. Damon sat in the back, away from the stage, his tracksuit zipped up as he leaned against the wall.

The room buzzed with movement fighters pacing, coaches giving last-minute reminders, and officials checking numbers on clipboards.

From behind the curtain, Damon could hear the announcer calling names one by one, introducing fighters as they stepped onto the scale.

Each name was followed by cheers, flashes from cameras, and the quick formality of face-offs before the next match-up was called.

Lightweights went first, their rivalries sparking noise from the crowd.

Then came the featherweights, the bantamweights, the middle of the card filling the arena with energy as fans reacted to every face-off.

Damon stayed seated, calm, listening. He could pick out certain chants from the audience whenever a popular name was called, and he could tell which fights had captured the crowd's interest most.

Victor stood beside him, arms folded, eyes on the curtain. "They're building it," he said quietly, nodding toward the noise outside. "All of this leads up to you."

Damon didn't reply right away. He adjusted his water bottle, his thoughts steady.

The sound of the crowd didn't rattle him, but it was impossible to ignore the anticipation.

Every fighter before him was a reminder that the show, the conference, the hype, all of it was designed to set the stage for him and Ivan.

Another name was called, and the crowd roared.

Damon glanced at the monitor in the corner of the room, showing the fighters on stage.

He watched as two welterweights squared up, their foreheads nearly touching, security already leaning in.

Damon smirked faintly and shook his head. He knew Ivan would bring that same fire, maybe more, when their turn came.

He also knew Victor's words from the other night were still sitting in his head: End it in the cage. Don't get lost in the noise.

The announcer's voice carried again, hyping the next bout.

Soon enough, it was time for the main event. The crowd inside the arena buzzed with anticipation, the announcer's voice rising over the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you've been waiting for. The main event of the evening. One of the most anticipated fights in the world today!"

The lights shifted toward the stage as the announcer continued.

"First to the scale, he is the interim middleweight champion of the world. Undefeated as a professional. Known for his relentless pace and power… fighting out of Moscow, Russia… Ivan Novak!"

The curtain pulled back, and Ivan walked out to a roar from the crowd. His jaw was tight, his expression calm but defiant. He stripped down to his fight shorts and stepped onto the scale.

The official glanced at the numbers before raising his hand. "One hundred and eighty-four pounds!"

Ivan raised a fist, a slight grin tugging at his lips as the crowd cheered. He flexed once for the cameras, then turned toward his corner with a nod.

The energy stayed high, but the arena shifted again as the announcer's voice thundered once more.

"And now, his opponent. He is the reigning light heavyweight champion. The reigning middleweight champion. Undefeated with the longest active win streak in UFA history. A two-time World Tournament winner. Tied for the youngest champion in the UFA, Fighting out of Limerick, Ireland… The Irish Ronin, Damon Cross!"

The reaction was deafening. Fans shot to their feet, the noise rolling through the building like a wave.

Damon stepped out from the back, his tracksuit loose around him, eyes sharp as he made his way to the scale. Cameras flashed nonstop, chants breaking out in different corners of the crowd.

He pulled off the top layer and stepped onto the scale. The official leaned in, checked the screen, and nodded. "One hundred and eighty-five pounds on the dot!"

Damon raised both arms, his expression calm but commanding.

The crowd roared again, even louder, the list of achievements that had just been read out echoing in their heads.

He wasn't just a champion, he was the champion. The man with belts in two divisions, the one no one had figured out how to beat.

Ivan stepped forward, his eyes locked on Damon's. Damon met the stare without blinking, his jaw set, his hands resting easily at his sides.

The ceremonial weigh-in had arrived, the moment where words meant little, and presence meant everything.

The crowd, the cameras, the lights, it all built toward the inevitable clash.