MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The team poured into the ring as soon as the ref waved it off.

Damon stepped up onto the apron and waited for the doctors to check Trevor before he climbed in.

By then, Kenji was already on his feet, breathing heavily but grinning, sweat and blood streaking his face.

The cheers from Team Cross filled the gym.

They reached him first, grabbing his shoulders and lifting him up as the others followed, chanting his name.

Damon stood by the ropes, arms crossed, watching for a few seconds before giving a small nod.

He stepped forward and clapped Kenji on the back once he was set down again.

"You did everything we worked on," Damon said simply.

Kenji nodded, still catching his breath. "I wasn't sure I could pull it off… until it happened."

Damon smirked. "Now you know."

With that win, Team Cross remained undefeated.

Every fight so far had gone their way, and another one of Ivan's team was heading home. The pressure on the opposing side was starting to mount.

Across the gym, Trevor sat on his stool with a towel pressed against his face.

Ivan stood behind him, stone-faced, offering no words of comfort. It wasn't hatred, just disappointment.

Another one of his fighters had come up short, and the gap between the teams was widening.

The cameras caught everything. The handshake between Kenji and Trevor.

Damon stepping over to give a nod to Ivan without waiting for one in return.

And the moment where the two teams passed each other without words, just stares. Tension was building again.

Back in the locker room, the energy was high. The fighters whooped and laughed, replaying moments of the fight.

Kenji sat quietly, a water bottle in hand, listening more than speaking. Damon eventually sat beside him.

"You kept your style," he said, "but you made it sharp. You didn't become someone else, just a better version of what you already were."

Kenji nodded again. "I didn't think I'd enjoy grappling... but shutting him down like that? Felt good."

Damon chuckled. "That's the feeling of control. Keep chasing that."

The cameras eventually cut off, and the gym quieted down. Team Cross had another win.

Another fighter under Ivan's leadership was going home. The scoreboard was clear, and the streak was alive.

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After the announcement Damon's team was still stoked.

As they returned to the locker room, the celebration still echoed in the background, shouts, laughter, claps on the back.

But Damon didn't join in. He peeled away from the group and motioned for Kaito Mori to follow.

They found a bench near the back, out of the camera's line of sight. Damon sat first, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. Kaito sat beside him, quiet and focused.

The win was great, but there wasn't time to let the momentum turn into distraction. Another fight was coming.

Damon looked over at him. "Chase Dunham," he said flatly. "You know what you're walking into?"

Kaito nodded once. "I've watched the tape. He's athletic, aggressive. But wild. Sloppy with his entries. Leaves his chin up."

Damon cracked a small smile. "Good. But don't get caught up in what you think he'll do. He likes chaos. If you let him drag you into a brawl, he'll land something stupid. That's what he's hoping for."

Kaito didn't reply, just listened.

"You're sharper. Cleaner. Stick to that. Manage the range. Make him miss, then make him pay. Don't let the crowd or the energy get in your head. Control the pace. You're not there to trade. You're there to show him there's levels."

Kaito gave a small nod again. "I won't give him anything."

Damon stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Good. You're not just fighting Chase. You're answering a question for everyone watching. All the ones who think you're quiet. That you don't stand out. Show them why they've been sleeping."

Kaito's eyes didn't waver. "I will."

Behind them, the celebration was fading as the team regrouped. They were still undefeated, but now the focus shifted. Another fighter was about to step into the spotlight.

The mission continued.

While the celebration for Kenji's win had just started to fade, it didn't take long for the team to shift gears and gather back around the ring.

The mood was still electric, but now it carried anticipation instead of relief.

The lights dimmed slightly as the next bout was queued. Announcer got into position, and the screen lit up with the names.

Kaito Mori vs. Chase Dunham

Damon stood with the team near the barricade, arms crossed, eyes locked on the ramp. Reader support at M*VLEM*PYR made this translation possible.

Chase came out first. His walk was loud and brash, full of confidence.

The American flag draped over his shoulders, he shouted into the fighters, arms raised, hyping himself up with every step.

He slapped hands, pointed to his corner, and shouted something back toward the cameras.

Kaito Mori stepped out next.

He walked like a man going to work. Calm, sharp, locked in. His eyes didn't shift left or right.

He reached the steps and paused only to bow before entering the cage.

Chase bounced on his feet, already pacing. He was saying something across the cage, trying to get under Kaito's skin. But Kaito didn't flinch.

Damon watched it unfold with quiet confidence. He wasn't worried about Kaito rising to the bait.

He knew what was about to happen.

Kaito stood in his corner, eyes on his opponent, hands loose at his sides, breathing steady.

The ref brought them to the center. Chase grinned. Kaito just stared.

The referee kept it professional, laying out the rules clearly.

"No strikes to the back of the head. No knees to the head of a grounded opponent. Protect yourselves at all times. Listen to my commands."

Then came the instruction to touch gloves.

Kaito raised his hand halfway, out of respect, out of formality.

Chase didn't even glance at him.

He stepped back with a grin, turned toward his corner, and tapped his fists together instead.

Kaito simply nodded, not fazed. He let his hand drop and stepped back to his corner without a word.

Damon, watching just outside the cage with his arms folded, didn't react either. He already knew the type of fighter Chase was.

The ref glanced between them one last time, then pointed.

"Ready?"

Both corners gave the signal.

The referee stepped back and raised a hand.

"Fight!"