MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon stayed on the balls of his feet, his stance loose but calculated.

He couldn't help but reflect on what he'd learned over the past months.

Somchai had been invaluable, teaching him pure Muay Thai, the art in its truest form, perfecting his technique.

But Wichan... Wichan took it a step further and taught Damon how to make it his own, to adopt a way of fighting that was unpredictable, adaptable, and all his own.

They balanced each other.

Somchai had gave Damon the foundation, the unshakable core of Muay Thai.

Wichan showed him how to build on it, to evolve beyond it.

He smirked faintly at the thought, ducking under a wild hook from Emarn and stepping into range, throwing a quick knee to Emarn's midsection.

The strike landed cleanly, forcing Emarn to grunt as he backed away again.

Damon didn't chase him. Instead, he reset, his breathing steady, his movements patient.

Emarn's strength was in his aggression, his ability to overwhelm opponents with speed and volume.

But even his frustration began to show. His punches came harder, his kicks sharper, but the subtle hesitations in his movements betrayed his mindset.

Damon could see it, the pressure was building.

Damon feinted a low kick, watching as Emarn instinctively shifted his weight to check it.

In that split-second, Damon launched a lightning-fast teep kick, his foot striking Emarn square in the chest.

Damon didn't stop there.

The roar of the crowd and the commentators' voices faded to the background as he locked in on Emarn.

His instinct was unbelievably sharp, and years of hard training had sharpened his instincts.

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He was in charge of the fight's pace now, and he wasn't going to let Emarn catch his breath.

Damon launched a barrage of blows as he moved into range.

His punches snapped forward with speed and precision, a jab to test Emarn's guard, a cross that forced him to shift his stance, and a lightning-fast hook aimed just below the ribs.

It hit hard, with a dull thud that made Emarn wince and take a step back. Damon didn't give up.

A quick elbow flew through the air and hit Emarn's high guard.

He had to take another step back because the force of it made his arms shake, even though it was stopped.

Then Damon hit Emarn with a hard low kick that hit him in the thigh and made him lose his balance a little.

The commentators couldn't hold back their excitement. "Oh, look at this! Damon is absolutely unloading on Emarn here!"

Damon tightened his combinations as Emarn moved back even more.

He hit Emarn with each strike, just like a piston, trying to get through his shields.

Never letting Emarn settle, he changed his sights to high, low, and mid.

A perfectly timed overhand hit Emarn on the top of the head, and then a hook to the belly made him grunt loudly.

It felt like the tide was changing for Damon.

As he got closer, he dodged Emarn's attempts to fight back.

He took a wild jab, but Damon moved to the outside and snapped a counter right across Emarn's chin.

The crowd went wild as Emarn stumbled backwards and could hardly keep his balance.

Damon wasn't done. He surged forward, now mixing in short, punishing elbows.

Each blow landed with a sharp crack, chipping away at Emarn's defenses and forcing him into a full retreat.

Damon's strikes were relentless, but not mindless, each attack set up the next, breaking Emarn's rhythm and forcing him onto the back foot.

Emarn's back nearly hit the cage, and he fired a desperate one-two combination to regain some control.

But Damon saw it coming.

He ducked under the first strike, pivoting slightly to the side, and raised his forearm to deflect the second.

The movement was fluid, almost effortless, and left him in perfect position to fire a crushing left hook to Emarn's ribs. Stay tuned to empire

The commentators were losing their minds. "Emarn is in serious trouble here! Damon Cross is not letting him breathe!"

Despite the onslaught, Damon was aware of his own limits.

The pace was brutal, and he could feel the burn in his arms and legs.

He knew maintaining this intensity would drain his stamina quickly.

But he wasn't just throwing wildly, this was calculated aggression.

He had a plan.

Emarn's guard stayed up, absorbing strike after strike, but Damon's unyielding assault left him no choice but to backpedal toward the cage.

Each step narrowed his options, and Damon exploited every mistake.

Another wild counter came from Emarn, this time a looping right hook, but Damon read it like a book.

He weaved under the strike, stepping inside and throwing a compact elbow that landed flush on Emarn's temple.

The impact drew a gasp from the crowd as Emarn staggered again.

With Emarn staggering, his legs unsteady from the barrage of strikes, he had no choice but to retreat further.

Step by step, he backed up until his shoulders met the cold steel of the cage.

Damon's lips curled into a faint smile. This was it. This was the moment he had been building toward.

This was his plan.

He didn't need to rush. He didn't need to force anything. Everything was playing out exactly how he had envisioned it.

Through hours of tape study and countless simulation rounds, Damon had dissected Emarn Petrosin's fighting style like a puzzle.

He knew the weaknesses that others might have overlooked.

One glaring flaw stood out, Emarn struggled when he couldn't maintain distance.

And if backed against the cage? His options became even more limited.

Damon had spent weeks drilling this exact scenario, watching Emarn's past fights on repeat.

Every pattern, every tendency, every mistake he knew.

This wasn't just about reacting, it was about knowing what Emarn would do before Emarn himself even realized it.

But that wasn't all. Damon could have easily taken the fight to the ground.

Emarn's grappling was rudimentary at best, and once on the mat, he would have been utterly helpless.

But that wasn't what Damon wanted.

No, a ground fight would have been too easy.

Too predictable.

Too boring.

Damon wanted to dominate him where he was strongest.

He wanted to prove that even in Emarn's world, in the realm of striking where he was supposed to shine, he could be broken.

Damon stepped in closer, his footwork smooth and measured.

His eyes locked on Emarn's, daring him to find a way out.

Emarn's breathing was heavy now, his chest rising and falling with each desperate gulp of air.

The crowd roared, sensing the impending end.

Damon shifted his weight, his body language calm yet menacing, ready to unleash the final act of his plan.