MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon pulled Svetlana into a firm hug, and she met him halfway, arms tight around his waist.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek gently, whispering something only meant for him.

Whatever it was, it brought out a smile that softened every sharp line of his face.

Then came Macey. She stepped in and hugged him like a son, strong and full of pride. "I'm proud of you. You did well," she said, no hesitation in her tone. Damon felt it deep.

Macey and Victor would never replace his real mother, but they were more than just mentors. They were part of his foundation.

Victor especially had filled something Damon never liked to admit he lacked, a father figure who stood firm without ever needing to say it aloud.

When he finally reached Aoife, she stood holding Ava in her arms. Her smile was proud, but her eyes were wet.

Not crying, just full. She was holding back, but the weight of her love was there, plain and visible.

Damon stepped into the hug gently, wrapping his arms around both of them at once.

Ava squirmed, then reached for him with tiny hands. He pressed his cheek to her head and let his mother's arms surround them both.

They soon separated, but Damon held onto his mother's hand a little longer before leaning in close.

"Hey… when they announce the winner," he said quietly, "I want you to wrap the belt around me."

Aoife blinked, confused at first. "Me?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. "Are you even allowed to do that? I don't want to get you in trouble."

Before Damon could respond, Victor stepped in with a grin, arms crossed casually. "It's fine," he said. "They allow it. Family can do it, some fighters ask their coaches, some their kids. You won't be breaking any rules."

Aoife looked between the two of them, still processing it. She wasn't the type to step into the spotlight, not even now.

But Damon's quiet nod and the way Ava reached out for him again seemed to settle something inside her.

She gave a nervous but genuine smile. "Alright. If they let me… I'll do it."

Officials entered the cage one by one.

Damon moved with calm, shaking hands with Ronan Black and a few of the others, offering nods of respect even to those he barely knew.

He kept it brief, eyes still occasionally darting to his family near the cage.

Then Deuce Baffer stepped through the gate, holding the microphone, his suit crisp and voice already audible even before the speakers caught it.

The referee motioned Damon and Alex to the center of the cage.

Damon stepped forward confidently, while Alex, still groggy, standing with some support, followed as expected.

The referee reached for both their wrists, holding them steady.

The cameras zoomed in. The tension was mostly gone, replaced now with a formal anticipation.

The result was clear, but the announcement still held weight.

Outside the cage, the commentary team kept the energy going.

"Double champs are rare," Jon Goodman said. "There's only been a few in UFA history. You talk about fighters, Collin Ncgyver, Damien Kormier, anander Numes, Hank Sehudo, and now we're adding Damon Cross to that conversation."

Marvin Duke nodded. "And at twenty-four. That's what's wild. Most fighters aren't even in title contention at that age. Damon's now a two-division champ with a thirty and 0 record."

"Unheard of," Rich Alvarez added. "And he didn't coast his way here. He's been fighting killers. You can't question this run."

Back inside the cage, Deuce raised the mic. The noise swelled again. All eyes locked on the center.

The moment was nearly here.

Deuce Baffer stepped forward with practiced confidence, his voice steady but charged as he brought the mic to his lips.

The crowd quieted just enough for the announcement to ring out clearly, the words hanging heavy in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed, "referee Mark Kellington has called a stop to this contest at four minutes and twenty-seven seconds of round number three... declaring the winner by knockout..."

He turned slightly, pointing with his free hand.

"Aaaand... NEEWWW undisputed UFA Light Heavyweight Champion of the WOOOORLD..."

The pause hit perfectly, just long enough to let the weight of the moment settle before the release.

"DAAAAMON 'RONIN' CROSS!!!"

The arena exploded. Horns, cheers, whistles, everything hit at once like a wave.

The moment Damon's name rang out across the arena, Aoife already had the belt in her hands.

She stood just outside the circle of cameras and celebration, the gold plate heavy with weight far beyond its material.

Damon had spoken to Ronan Black earlier, and the UFA president gave a simple nod of approval. He hadn't hesitated. Why would he?

Aoife stepped forward as the announcer's voice faded into the roar of the crowd. Her fingers trembled slightly as she approached her son.

She had held him when he was born, when he was sick, when he couldn't sleep. Now she was about to crown him a champion.

She struggled for a second with the belt. It wasn't complicated, her hands just wouldn't stay still. The nerves made it harder, not the design.

But she got it done. When the final click locked the plate into place, Damon turned without a word and wrapped his arms around her.

She hugged him back tightly, burying her face against his shoulder. It didn't matter that thousands were watching.

The emotion caught up to her fast. She couldn't hold it back anymore.

Aoife cried, her son had become something more than she could've imagined, and still, he was hers.

Damon turned after the hug, glancing across the cage. Alex stood near his corner, head held up despite the loss. Their eyes met. Alex gave a small nod and extended his hand.

Damon stepped forward and shook it firmly. No words were needed. Alex showed no visible frustration, no anger, no disappointment, just calm acceptance.

It was the same unreadable face he'd worn before the fight, even now after being knocked out.

Damon respected it. He didn't push a conversation, just nodded back before turning again.

His eyes found Ava, reaching for him from his mother's arms. He stepped over quickly and scooped her up, holding her gently against his chest.

"Hey, baby," he said softly.

Ava's eyes lit up and she immediately started talking, her words running into each other too fast to follow.

"I saw you and you go boom and then he—he fall down and the man was loud and—Mama say you win—an' I scream—an' I clap and grandmama say 'That's my boy!'—an' you were kicking and boom and—!"

Damon laughed under his breath, smiling wide as she kept going, barely stopping for breath.

He held her tighter and kissed the side of her head. "That so? You watched the whole thing?"

She nodded quickly, curls bouncing. "Uh-huh! You were big! Like pow pow big!"

"Pow pow big," he repeated with a smirk, shaking his head.

Ava beamed like she'd won the belt too.

Ava looked up at him, still wide-eyed from all the excitement, and asked in the most serious voice she could manage, "Can I fight the big man too?"

Damon blinked, caught off guard. She looked so small in his arms, clutching the shoulder of his hoodie with both hands, her cheeks round and eyes full of curiosity.

He stared for a second before shaking his head slowly. "No, baby. Daddy fights so you don't have to."

She frowned a little, clearly not satisfied. "But I wanna kick! Like this!" She kicked her little foot out in the air, nowhere near hard, but with the full force of toddler energy.

Damon laughed. "You're dangerous already."

"I'm strong!" she said proudly, trying to flex one of her arms, which just made her sleeve scrunch up awkwardly.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I know you are. But Daddy's job is to fight the big guys. Your job is to eat your food, do your drawing, and stay safe."

Ava nodded slowly like she was still thinking about it. Then she laid her head on his shoulder and mumbled, "Okay. But next time I want the shiny belt."

Damon smiled, holding her tighter. "Deal."