MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 813

Chapter 813: Chapter 813: Under the Bright Lights

Fight day had arrived. The sun rose over Las Vegas, and the energy in the city was already different. Every billboard, every commercial, every conversation on the strip seemed to point toward one thing, Cross vs. Novak.

For Damon, the morning started steady. He moved through light drills with Victor, keeping his body loose and his timing sharp.

Nothing too heavy, just enough to feel his rhythm and burn off the nerves that came with waiting.

The hours passed in stretches of quiet focus.

By late afternoon, it was time to shower, change, and prepare for the night ahead.

When they arrived at the arena, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The car door opened, and cameras were waiting.

Svetlana stepped out first, dressed elegantly, her presence commanding attention as flashes lit the walkway.

Ava followed, wearing a small, carefully picked dress, her hair done neatly. She clung to Damon’s hand, smiling wide at all the noise around her.

Finally, Damon stepped out. He was dressed sharply, his posture calm and assured despite the storm building inside the building.

The photographers went wild, shutters firing as the Cross family made their way through the entrance.

The night had begun.

Damon went in early, his steps steady as the team moved through the corridors of the arena.

By the time they reached their designated room, everything was already in place.

Gear bags lined the benches, water bottles stacked neatly in the corner, and the faint hum of the crowd outside vibrated through the walls.

Svetlana and Ava stayed close, slipping into the private space reserved for family.

Damon leaned down, kissed Ava on the head, then handed her over to Svetlana before heading into the locker room.

Inside, he stripped out of his suit and changed into his training attire, shorts, shirt, wraps ready to be tightened.

The air in the room shifted as he laced up, the casual calm giving way to fight-night focus.

When he rejoined his team, Victor was already pacing with the mitts in hand, while the other coaches prepared the warm-up drills.

Damon stretched, loosened his shoulders, and began moving, his body easing into the rhythm.

Light shots, light movement, enough to remind himself that the engine was ready to run.

Soon enough, the muffled cheers outside grew louder. The event had begun.

The prelim fighters made their walkouts, the sounds of the first introductions echoing faintly through the halls.

The early bouts came and went, the crowd building in energy as each finish or decision pushed the card closer to the main event.

The night was heating up, and Damon knew his moment was drawing closer.

Soon enough, the moment Damon had been waiting for arrived.

Two of his fighters were about to meet in the finals of The Supreme Fighter. Ronny McGregor versus Max Taylor.

The crowd was already hot after the earlier bouts, every finish and close decision raising the energy.

Now, the arena lights dimmed, and the big screens flashed with the promo package for the lightweight final. Fans rose to their feet, buzzing with anticipation.

The music hit, and the first fighter made his walk. Ronny stepped out, his hood pulled over his head, bouncing lightly on his toes as he slapped his chest and pointed toward the cage.

The Irish flags in the stands waved high, his supporters making their presence felt with loud chants.

Moments later, Max made his entrance. Calm, composed, no wasted movements.

He walked slowly, his gaze locked on the cage, the underdog spirit still burning despite the pressure of the stage.

The crowd responded with a wave of cheers, appreciating the grit that had carried him this far.

At the commentary desk, Jim Logan leaned forward, his voice cutting through the roar of the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the lightweight final of The Supreme Fighter! Ronny McGregor versus Max Taylor, two young men who’ve fought their hearts out all season long, and tonight, one of them leaves with the crown.”

Nix followed, grounding the tone with his signature precision. “Both men are undefeated inside the tournament, but it ends tonight. One of them takes the title, the other takes their first loss. The question is, whose pressure cracks first?”

The camera panned to the cage as both fighters finished their walkouts, stepping inside the Octagon under the bright lights. The crowd’s energy was electric, the stakes undeniable.

As the referee checked the fighters one last time, the commentary team settled into their breakdown.

Jim Logan started it off. “Alright, here we go—Max Taylor versus Ronny McGregor, the lightweight final of The Supreme Fighter. And I gotta say, this matchup is fascinating. Max Taylor, we’ve seen it all season, he’s a pressure fighter. He comes forward, he throws in combinations, he doesn’t give you space to breathe. He’s the guy that forces a war whether you want it or not.”

Damian Kormier nodded, jumping in. “Yeah, Max is a dog, man. He bites down and goes. And what makes him dangerous is that he’s not afraid to eat a shot just to give two or three back. He drags you into the kind of fight most guys aren’t comfortable in.”

Nix leaned forward, his tone balanced. “But then you’ve got Ronny McGregor. Completely different style. He’s calm, he’s composed. He’s a sniper. He fights long, he uses that lead hand like a measuring stick, and when you make a mistake, he makes you pay. The left hand is his money shot, but it’s not just power, it’s timing, it’s accuracy. He’s very Collin NcGyver-esque in the way he controls distance and punishes over-aggression.”

Jim gestured toward the cage. “And that’s the key. Can Max close that distance without walking into the left? Because Ronny wants you to overextend, and Max has a tendency to do that. If Max can cut him off and turn it into a dogfight, he’s got a real shot. But if Ronny dictates the pace, this could be a long night for Max.”

Damian grinned. “That’s why this fight rules, man. It’s chaos versus composure. One guy never stops, the other guy never gets rattled. Styles make fights, and this is a perfect clash of styles.”

Nix nodded. “And don’t forget, they’re both fighting for more than just a crown here. The winner gets a contract, gets a spotlight, and puts themselves on the map. That pressure changes everything.”