MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

In the crowd, high up in the packed stands, Matthew stood shoulder to shoulder with his father. His hands gripped the railing so tight his knuckles were white, eyes wide, glued to the cage below. His heartbeat thumped in his ears like a war drum. The second round had been chaos. Intense. Raw. He'd watched Damon Cross fight before, every fight, in fact, from the amateur days in small halls to The Supreme Fighter. But this was different. This was history. And he was here for it. When Damon locked in the crucifix position, Matthew could barely breathe. He saw Malikin fighting back, resisting with everything he had. The struggle was obvious, Damon straining, working for the final piece to seal it. Matthew's entire body was tense. "Come on… come on," he muttered, his voice almost cracking. Then Damon made the adjustment. He sank it in. Tight. Malikin's body jerked… And he tapped. The referee dove in, waving it off. And the arena exploded. Matthew shouted with the crowd, his arms shooting into the air. He jumped in place, his dad grabbing his shoulder, both of them yelling over the chaos. "He did it! He did it!" Matthew shouted, voice half-hoarse already. His dad was grinning wide, shaking him like he was a kid again. "You were right! You called it!" Matthew was too fired up to answer. He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket with shaking hands and flipped it to selfie mode. "Cross Era! Cross Era!" he screamed into the camera, his face flushed with excitement. Behind him, the stadium was pure madness, fans waving flags, pounding fists on barriers, chanting Damon's name like he was a king. "Damon Cross! World Champion, baby!" Matthew shouted again. He turned the camera toward the cage, catching Damon with the belt wrapped around his waist, his arms raised high, soaking in the moment. He flipped the camera back to his face, breathing heavy, grinning like he couldn't believe it was real. "We're here! We saw it! Cross Era's alive, boys!" He ended the video with a fist bump to the screen before hitting post. The notifications exploded immediately. It was a moment he'd never forget. And one the world was watching. . . . In the U.S., miles away from the chaos of the arena, Joey's living room was packed. The energy in the room was electric, almost matching the roar of the crowd blasting from the TV. Joey sat on the couch, one hand clutching the edge of the coffee table like it was an anchor, his other arm draped protectively around Ashley. She rested her hands over her stomach, smiling quietly but her eyes glued to the screen. Across from them, Ash, Ashley's brother, was leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp and focused. He was built for stress, managing his family's empire now, but even he couldn't sit still. Beside him, Ty shifted in his seat, bouncing his knee nonstop. He was still sweating from his morning training session, deep in prep for the Olympic qualifiers, but nothing was pulling him away from this moment. And then there was Edward. Relaxed in the corner chair, arms crossed, but only because he was forcing himself to look calm. He was UFA now, but the weight of those gloves was nothing compared to the pride he felt watching his teammate in the biggest fight of his life. None of them said it out loud. They didn't need to. The moment Damon fought for another belt whether it was UFA or something bigger, they were going to be there. Cage-side. Live. It wasn't a question. It was a silent promise made in the shared looks they gave each other before turning back to the screen. And then it happened. On the broadcast, Damon adjusted the crucifix. Malikin thrashed beneath him, fighting like hell, but Damon locked it down. Tight. And then came the crank. The leverage. The tap. Malikin's hand slapped out. And the ref jumped in. The living room erupted. Ty launched off the couch, fists in the air, screaming. "Let's gooooo!" Ash stood up fast, shouting, his voice hoarse, "That's it! That's it! He did it!" Even Edward uncrossed his arms and let out a deep, satisfied laugh, shaking his head. "That's the champ…" Joey was grinning wide, almost tearing up, as he pulled Ashley closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "He did it," he whispered. Ashley smiled. "Yeah… he did." For a bunch of hardcore MMA heads, fighters, grinders, this wasn't just entertainment. This was their world. Their family. A sudden sharp cry cut through the noise of the celebration, silencing the room instantly. Ashley was already on her feet before anyone else moved. "Ohhh, the baby!" she said, hurrying down the hallway toward the nursery. Her voice was calm, but there was that urgency only a mother had when her child cried out. The three men all froze like they'd been caught red-handed. "Sorry, sorry," they all blurted at the same time, hands up in surrender. Joey winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was Ty, I swear," he whispered. Ty threw him a glare. "Bro, you were the one pounding the table!" Ash shook his head, suppressing a grin. "Both of you are hopeless." Even Edward cracked a smirk, holding his hands out in mock innocence. The volume in the room dropped instantly, all three of them looking toward the hallway, listening as Ashley's voice softened in the distance, soothing the baby back to sleep. They exchanged glances, a quiet truce settling over them. "Let's keep it down," Joey said under his breath. "For now," Ty whispered back, still grinning. Edward shrugged. "Until the replay." Ash chuckled, shaking his head. But they all nodded. For now. Back in the cage, as the crowd slowly settled from its deafening roar, an interviewer stepped through the cage door. The championship ceremony was still wrapping up, Victor standing at Damon's side, Svetlana quietly holding the bouquet of flowersbut now it was time for Damon to speak. The same Damon Cross who, the last time he was handed a microphone, left the world stunned with his words. But this time? This was his moment. He could say whatever the fuck he wanted. And no one was going to stop him. The interviewer stood across from him, eyes wide with excitement, holding the mic with both hands as if it was a piece of history in itself. She took a breath, steadying herself. Then lifted the mic toward him. "The new, and first World MMA Middleweight Champion…" She paused, letting the crowd pop again. "Damon Cross… how do you feel?" Damon stood there for a second, the belt heavy around his waist, the medal still hanging from his neck. His chest rose slow, calm, as if the chaos around him was happening in another world.