MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 819

Chapter 819: Chapter 819: Adjustments in the Storm

The horn sounded for Round 2, and both fighters rose from their stools. Sweat glistened under the lights, the crowd still buzzing from the madness of the first round.

Chase came out lighter on his feet this time, but not as reckless. His hands were higher, his movement more measured.

He still feinted, still swayed side to side, but the wild spins and flying knees were gone, for now.

Jim Logan caught it right away. “Interesting. Chase is a lot more cautious now. After that slam at the end of round one, maybe he realized not everything has to be a highlight reel.”

Damian Kormier nodded. “Yeah, you can see it. He still wants to explode, it’s in his style, but he’s holding back. That tells me José earned respect in that first round.”

José, on the other hand, grew sharper. He stalked forward with his same patient stride, guard high, chin tucked, every step heavy with intent.

He snapped a jab straight into Chase’s face, followed by a punishing low kick that echoed across the arena.

Nix kept it steady. “This is where José thrives. If Chase isn’t willing to gamble, José builds confidence. He’ll start adding more power, more combinations, and that’s dangerous.”

Chase circled, snapping a teep to the body, then slid out of range. But José walked him down, checked a leg kick, and fired a right hand that grazed the temple. José’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the tide shifting.

The crowd sensed it too, the energy building as José pressed forward, his confidence growing with every step.

José advanced with that same cold patience, every strike heavy, every step forcing Chase to backpedal.

He flicked out the jab again, snapping Chase’s head back, then chopped at the legs with a thudding low kick.

The crowd winced at the sound.

Chase raised his guard high, blocking the next hook, then slipped back against the fence.

He wasn’t throwing with his usual chaos, no spins, no flying knees, but he was showing flashes of discipline.

His footwork stayed loose, his shoulders rolled, deflecting shots as José kept pressing.

Jim Logan spoke over the exchange. “This is the pressure of José Alvarez. He’s not wasting anything. Everything he throws, it hurts. And Chase, he’s being forced onto the back foot.”

Damian Kormier nodded. “Yeah, but you gotta give Chase credit here. He’s showing some defense, staying composed even with José walking him down. He’s not getting wild.”

José stepped in with a jab-cross, then ripped a left hook to the body that landed with a thud.

Chase grimaced, backing off, then suddenly changed levels, shooting in for a takedown. The crowd gasped.

José widened his stance, stuffing the shot immediately, throwing his hips back.

Chase scrambled, trying to transition into a single leg, but José circled, pried free, and shoved him back toward the center. The crowd roared at the exchange.

Nix analyzed calmly. “That’s smart from Chase. Even if the takedown doesn’t land, it forces José to respect another option. And it breaks his rhythm.”

José reset quickly, eyes locked, his confidence unshaken.

He stalked forward again, peppering Chase with jabs and leg kicks, forcing him toward the fence.

Chase’s breathing grew heavier, but his eyes flickered with something different now, calculation.

José feinted low, dipping for a body shot. That was the moment.

Chase suddenly dropped his level, fainting a takedown of his own. José’s instincts pulled him down to defend, his weight shifting, right into Chase’s trap.

“Uppercut!” Jim Logan shouted as Chase unleashed it.

The shot ripped straight up the middle, catching José flush under the chin.

His knees buckled instantly, his eyes wide, his body staggering back. The crowd exploded in a single roar.

Damian Kormier shouted over the noise. “Ohhh! That uppercut rocked him bad! José’s hurt!”

José stumbled, trying to steady himself, but his legs weren’t there. He stepped back, his guard high but shaky. Chase saw it, blood in the water.

Chase pounced ruthlessly, swarming with strikes.

A right hand landed clean, then a left hook, then another uppercut as José’s back hit the fence.

His head snapped back with every shot, the crowd screaming as Chase poured it on.

Nix’s tone sharpened. “José’s in big trouble! Chase is unloading everything, this could be the end!”

The referee hovered close, the fans on their feet, as Chase pressed forward with a relentless barrage, José barely hanging on.

José’s legs wobbled as he backed into the fence, his guard half up. Chase surged forward, digging a right hand into the body before whipping a left hook over the top that clipped José clean on the temple.

The crowd roared as José tried to cover, but his defense was slow. Chase stepped in tight, unleashing a crisp one-two, then ripped another uppercut up the middle that snapped José’s head back.

Jim Logan’s voice cracked. “José is hurt bad! He’s not defending himself properly!”

José threw his arms up, blocking some of the storm, but Chase varied his shots, hook to the head, dig to the body, back upstairs with a short right hand. Every connection drew gasps from the crowd.

Damian Kormier leaned forward, urgency in his tone. “He’s shelling up, he’s just eating shots. He needs to move, or this is going to get stopped.”

The referee hovered close, eyes locked on José, warning him to fight back. José tried, he swung a desperate jab, then a looping right hook, but they were slow, telegraphed, and Chase walked straight through them.

Chase planted his feet, ripping a knee up the middle that forced José upright against the cage.

He followed with a brutal right hook and another uppercut, sweat flying as José’s head snapped back again.

His legs buckled, and his hands dropped for a moment before he raised them weakly.

Nix spoke flatly, cutting through the noise. “He’s absorbing too much. The ref is about to step in.”

Chase poured it on,short punches in bunches, left, right, left again. José’s guard sagged, his head jerking with every strike.

He tried to circle out, but Chase trapped him, pinning him against the fence with relentless combinations.

The referee stepped closer, shouting, “Show me something!”

José covered again, but nothing came back. Chase landed a final right hand clean, and José slumped lower against the cage.

That was enough. The referee dove between them, wrapping Chase up and waving it off.

The arena exploded.

Chase threw his arms in the air, pacing in a wide circle before climbing the cage and pounding his chest at the roaring fans.

José slid down to one knee, blinking hard as the doctors rushed in to steady him.

Jim Logan’s voice was nearly drowned out by the noise. “Chase Dunham with a TKO finish! Ruthless pressure once he had José hurt!”

Damian Kormier shook his head. “That was vicious. José fought hard, but once he got rocked, Chase didn’t give him a second to recover.”

Nix wrapped it up clean. “That’s the danger of Chase Dunham. He might take risks, he might frustrate you, but when he senses the finish, he doesn’t let you off the hook.”

Chase flexed on the cage, shouting to the crowd, while José sat with his corner, battered but conscious, nodding that he was alright.