MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 476: One Step Away

Damon moved around the cage, beating his chest, adrenaline still surging through his veins. His breathing was steady, but the rush of victory was undeniable.

He didn’t go out of his way to provoke the fans this time, but he also didn’t hide his celebration.

He had every right to celebrate.

He had dominated Noal Rameiro.

His team stormed the cage, yelling, embracing him, screaming in triumph.

They had made it.

The Finals.

Victor reached him first, pulling Damon into a tight embrace. He wasn’t one for dramatics, but this was huge.

"You did it, lad," Victor said, pride in his voice. "One more."

Damon grinned, nodding. "One more."

The energy was unreal. His team surrounded him, patting his back, hyping him up, their excitement contagious.

Deuce Baffer stepped forward to make the official announcement, but Damon was still absorbing the moment.

It wasn’t over.

But he was one fight away from making history. Your journey continues at novelbuddy

Becoming one of the first winners of the World MMA Tournament, alongside the other weight class champions, was a historic opportunity. Damon knew this wasn’t just about winning a tournament; this was about cementing a legacy.

As his team continued to celebrate around him, his mind was already shifting forward. He had watched his next opponent fight tonight.

Enton Malikin.

The Russian was no joke. The way he had dominated DPP with relentless wrestling and sheer physicality had been terrifying to watch. He wasn’t just a grappler, he was an overwhelming force.

Damon felt the challenge.

And it excited him to death.

This was exactly what he wanted. A true test.

Damon walked toward Noal, still catching his breath but showing no signs of exhaustion. The Irishman extended his hand, and Noal, ever the warrior, met it with a firm shake.

"You’re a strong bastard," Damon admitted, his grip steady.

Noal, still breathing heavy, gave a wide-eyed nod, his thick Cuban accent rolling off his tongue. "My fren… you… you are an animál. I feel like I fight wit’ a lion, hermano. A big, strong lion… who do jiu-jitsu, too."

Damon smirked. "A bear that wrestles."

Noal blinked, tilting his head. "Bear? No, no, no… no bear. You like… like… how you say? A… a…" He paused, snapping his fingers, then pointed at Damon. "A monster!"

Damon chuckled, nodding. "That’s what they say."

Noal wagged his finger, his expression serious. "No, no, listen, my fren. I been here long time. I fight many men. Big men. Strong men. Fast men. But you? You…" He took a deep breath and nodded again. "You special."

Damon nodded back, giving Noal the respect he deserved. "Appreciate that, man."

Noal leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Listen to me. You beat me? You must win. You must win the whole thing, okay? You understand?" He tapped his own chest for emphasis. "No play around, no take break. You go, you fight, you win, okay, my fren?"

Damon grinned. "That was always the plan."

Noal’s face broke into a grin as well, his teeth flashing. "Okay… okay… Good. You win, you the champion. You the king. You the… the… what you say?*"

Damon raised a brow. "The best?"

Noal snapped his fingers again. "YES! The best! The best in the world! But if you lose, huh?" He suddenly wagged his finger again, mockingly stern. "Then you… you no good. You no my fren no more. I delete you from my phone!"

Damon let out a laugh, shaking his head. "I’ll make sure you don’t have to do that."

Noal clapped him on the back one last time. "Good, my fren. Good. Now go. Go be the best!"

Damon turned back to his corner, where his team was already gathering to escort him out.

Damon smirked to himself as he walked toward the referee, shaking his head slightly. "Doesn’t even have my number, but that’s cool." he muttered under his breath.

Even though he already knew he was on the path to being the best, hearing it from someone like Noal Rameiro, someone who had been in the game for years, someone who had fought the greats, felt different. It meant something.

The referee finally called him to the center of the cage, where Noal was already standing, his chest still rising and falling with deep breaths. Damon took his spot, his expression calm and unreadable, while Noal gave him a tired but approving nod.

Then, something unexpected happened.

The crowd, who had been relentless in their hatred for him before, had shifted. Sure, there were still boos, it was England, after all, but there were cheers too.

A lot of them. It was hard to tell if it was the Irish fans overpowering the boos or if some English fans were finally acknowledging his performance.

Damon took a quick glance around, absorbing the moment. It was surprising, but he wasn’t about to dwell on it. Love him or hate him, the crowd was loud, and that’s all that mattered.

The referee grabbed both their wrists, ths crowd glancing between them before turning toward the announcer.

Damon exhaled slowly, waiting for the final words.

The referee stood between Damon and Noal, gripping both their wrists. The announcer stepped forward, microphone in hand, his voice cutting through the roaring crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, referee Mark Goddard has called a stop to this contest at 3 minutes, 22 seconds of Round Number One! Declaring the winner by submission… and advancing to the World MMA Tournament FINALS…"

He paused, letting the crowd swell with anticipation. Some fans already knew what was coming and began chanting, while others waited in stunned silence.

"DAAAAAMOOON CROOOOOOOSSSS!"

The referee raised Damon’s hand, and the cheers nearly drowned out the remaining boos. Damon flexed his fist in victory, standing tall in the center of the cage. His expression was composed, but there was an undeniable fire in his eyes.

The Irish fans in attendance erupted, chanting his name, waving flags, and pounding on the barricades.

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Noal, still catching his breath, stepped toward Damon. He gave a small shake of his head before grinning and pointing at him.

"You... you good, man! You strong! Strong! I see now! You da future, my fren’!" Noal said in his thick Cuban accent, his voice booming even without a mic.

Damon smirked, reaching out to shake Noal’s hand.

"I respect you, man," Damon said. "You’re a legend."

Noal grabbed Damon’s hand and pulled him in for a quick hug, patting him on the back.

"Legend? No, no! You da legend now, my fren’! No more runnin’! You already there!" Noal grinned. "I tell you, brother, if you win this, pfffft... they need to make new belt just for you! BIG BELT!"

Damon chuckled, shaking his head as Noal playfully raised his arms like he was holding an invisible giant championship belt.

The camera zoomed in on Damon as he took one last look around at the crowd, then glanced toward the camera and pointed.

One fight left.

One final step.

The finals were set.