MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon let out a laugh, half exhausted, half amused, while he sat on the assault bike, his legs burning and his arms sore from the relentless motion.

Beads of sweat trickled down his face, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself past his limit.

The gym was mostly empty now, and the sounds of earlier action were becoming quiet.

Few fighters stayed behind to clean up or pack up their stuff.

Victor had been holed up in his office for most of the day.

.

.

Damon had stamina for days, but even he felt the toll of the workout.

After a hard session of hitting drills, takedown defense, and groundwork practice, he had been on the machine for what seemed like forever.

His defense against takedowns still needed work, and even though his base work was good, today's training was mostly about learning new counter moves and situations to get ready for future fights.

Finally, Damon stopped pedaling, the assault bike slowing to a halt.

He swung his arms loosely to shake off the soreness and stepped down, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him.

He grabbed a water bottle from the nearby bench, chugging the cool liquid as he leaned back against the wall.

He felt like he was making progress on his weaknesses one drill at a time, even though the day's work had been hard.

A group of trainers stepped out of the locker room as the door creaked open.

They looked like they were finishing up for the day as they were wearing casual clothes and carrying gym bags over their shoulders.

As they walked past Damon, one of them called out, "Hey, we're heading out. It's getting late."

Damon nodded, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. "Yeah, I'm finishing up. See ya."

The group waved briefly before heading toward the exit, their voices fading as the gym grew quieter.

Damon glanced around the near-empty gym.

He could feel the ache in his muscles and knew it was time to wrap up.

He had already done enough today, so there was no need to do more.

He could also wait for the simulation later, which would give him another chance to push himself without hurting himself.

He took one last drink of water and then grabbed his bag.

He was going to the change room to finish up.

Even though there was always work to do, Damon knew how important it was to pace himself.

Of course, he had elixirs that could heal almost any injury, but that didn't mean he wanted to endure the pain in the first place.

Healing was one thing, but avoiding the agony altogether was another matter entirely.

Damon took his time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his muscles after a long and grueling day.

It was one of those rare moments where he allowed himself to fully relax, enjoying the brief reprieve.

Once he was done, he dried off, dressed, and headed out of the locker room.

Before leaving, he cleaned up the area where he had been working out, putting everything back in its place.

Damon always made a point to leave the gym as tidy as he found it, discipline was as much about respect as it was about training.

He was also great full of having a roof to train in.

Bag slung over his shoulder, he walked to Victor's office and gave the door a firm knock.

"Come in," Victor called out.

Damon opened the door and stepped inside. Victor was leaning back in his chair, looking exhausted but focused.

Papers were scattered across his desk, and his laptop screen glowed with what seemed like emails or reports.

"Done training?" Victor asked, his tone casual.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Damon nodded, closing the door behind him. "Yeah. Just wanted to say bye before I headed out."

Victor gestured to the chair in front of him. "Sit down for a second."

Damon hesitated briefly before taking a seat.

Victor rarely called him in for casual chats after training; it was usually something important.

"What's up?" Damon asked, curious.

Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. "So, the UFA just called."

Damon raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "The UFA? What about?"

Victor sighed, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. "They're dealing with some last-minute drama. One of the fighters for an upcoming Fight Night pulled out, ACL tear or something serious. It's left them with a big gap in the card, and they're scrambling to fix it."

Damon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "Sounds like a mess. What does that have to do with me?"

Victor leaned back in his chair, staring at Damon with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

The usually laid-back mentor wasn't one to mince words when it came to important matters.

"Kid," Victor started, his voice calm but firm, "the UFA called. They're looking for a short-notice replacement for an upcoming Fight Night. One of the fighters pulled out with an ACL tear, and they want to know if you're up for it."

Damon raised an eyebrow, his interest immediately piqued. "I mean... I'm always–"

Victor held up a hand, cutting him off. "Let me finish."

Damon leaned back, crossing his arms. Victor rarely interrupted him unless he had a valid point to make.

"Let's think about this before we make any decisions," Victor said, his tone deliberate. "You've fought seven matches last year, Damon. Seven. That's more than most fighters handle, and on top of that, you just came off another fight not long ago. This match is in three weeks. You're climbing the ranks fast, but we've got to be smart about this."

The fact that Victor had called him by name instead of "kid" or something casual caught Damon's attention.

It wasn't often that Victor dropped the nicknames, and it meant he was being serious.

Damon leaned back in his chair, absorbing Victor's words.

He wasn't used to hearing hesitation in his mentor's tone, but Victor's reasoning was sound.