MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 825

Chapter 825: Chapter 825: Sharpening the Edge

The exchanges grew tighter. Damon snapped another jab, slipped just outside Ivan’s return, and dug a hook into the body.

Ivan tried to answer with a cross, but Damon rolled under, countering with an uppercut that clipped the chin.

Ivan reset quickly, guard tight, but Damon pressed behind his footwork. He cut angles, landing the jab, then sliding off to his right to avoid the counter.

Ivan threw heavy, but Damon’s head movement was sharper now, ducking under hooks, slipping crosses by inches.

Damon let the combinations flow: jab, straight, left hook to the body, calf kick to finish. Ivan blocked some, ate others, but he struggled to pin Damon down.

Every time he tried to close the distance, Damon slipped and reset, punishing him with sharp shots on the exit.

Jim Logan spoke over the noise. “Damon’s showing the difference in striking here. Cleaner, sharper, and the head movement is on point.”

Ivan still fired back, he landed a stiff jab and a right hand in the final minute that caught Damon on the guard, but Damon returned fire instantly, a two-punch combo that snapped Ivan’s head back.

The crowd roared as the pace quickened in the closing seconds. Damon slipped one more hook, dug a counter right to the ribs, and circled out.

Ivan marched forward, still pressing, but couldn’t land clean before the horn sounded.

BAHHHH!

The fighters touched gloves briefly again, both breathing heavier now, before turning back to their corners.

Two rounds down. The chess match was gone. The fight was taking shape.

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The fighters rose from their stools, the referee checked both corners, and the horn sounded for Round 3.

Damon came out sharp, snapping his jab twice and sliding to his right.

Ivan kept his guard high, stepping forward behind small feints, trying to cut Damon’s movement.

Damon ducked under the first right hand that came his way, answering with a quick hook to the body and a calf kick that forced Ivan to reset his stance.

Ivan adjusted, stepping heavier on his lead leg, and fired a one-two down the pipe.

The jab missed, but the cross landed clean on Damon’s guard, driving him back a step.

Damon immediately circled out, flicking his jab again, his head moving side to side as Ivan pressed forward.

The rhythm broke as Damon landed a stiff straight left that snapped Ivan’s head back.

The crowd erupted, and Damon followed with a hook upstairs, but Ivan blocked it and fired back with a looping right.

Damon rolled under, countering with a sharp uppercut that drew another loud reaction from the crowd.

Jim Logan’s voice was steady. “Damon’s making those tiny slips, head just off the line, and punishing Ivan every time.”

Ivan wasn’t backing off. He stepped forward with a jab, then faked another shot.

Damon sprawled just enough, and Ivan came back up with a right hook that grazed the temple. Damon shook it off, grinning as he reset in the center.

The pace climbed. Damon landed another combination, jab, right hand, hook to the body, before slipping out of range.

Ivan fired back, chopping with his own calf kick and a cross that clipped Damon on the shoulder.

They traded again, this time both landing clean jabs that popped each other’s heads back.

By the halfway mark, the crowd was on its feet.

Damon’s head movement was sharp, his timing crisp, but Ivan was starting to let his hands go more freely, throwing in three- and four-punch combinations.

Damon slipped most of it, but a few shots got through, including a straight right that cracked against his jaw.

Damian Kormier cut in. “Ivan’s making this a dogfight now. He’s landing more, not letting Damon get too comfortable.”

Damon responded immediately, stepping in with a heavy right hook that landed flush, then ripping a left to the body.

Ivan grunted, backed up a step, then answered with his own jab-cross-hook sequence that forced Damon to retreat briefly.

They circled again, both marked up now, sweat flying with every exchange.

Damon kept his composure, slipping and weaving, then fired another stiff jab that split the guard.

He pivoted and cracked a calf kick, forcing Ivan to stumble as his base gave out.

The crowd roared at the damage, but Ivan raised his hand, nodding as if to say come on.

Damon obliged, stepping forward with a one-two, but Ivan countered with a right hook that landed flush on the cheek.

The last thirty seconds were frantic. Damon landed a jab–cross–hook, Ivan fired back with a looping combination, both men trading in the pocket.

Damon slipped under one final cross, countering with a sharp right uppercut that rocked Ivan’s head back just before the horn.

BEHH

The crowd exploded, roaring for both men as they touched gloves again, their respect visible even through the exhaustion.

Three rounds in, and neither man had broken.

Damon sat down on the stool, Victor and Joey working quickly around him. The noise of the crowd faded into the background as his mind replayed the last five minutes.

He could see it now, Ivan’s patterns.

Every time Damon went low with the calf kick, Ivan checked once or twice, but by the third exchange he either ate it or tried to counter too late. His timing on the legs wasn’t built for long wars.

When Damon feinted the level change, Ivan’s hips reacted hard, his hands dropping lower than they should.

It wasn’t wide enough to be obvious to the crowd, but Damon had felt it, one sharp fake, and Ivan’s guard wasn’t where it needed to be.

In the striking, Ivan’s jab was sharp, but it always came in doubles. After the second, he lingered just long enough for a counter right to sneak through.

Damon had tested it once in the second round and nearly landed flush.

And when Ivan fired combinations longer than three punches, his stance narrowed, his head upright.

That’s when Damon’s uppercut had snapped him back. It wasn’t luck, it was a read.

Damon exhaled slowly, water dripping down his chin as Joey poured it over.

His chest rose steady, calmer now that the picture was clear. Ivan was strong, disciplined, but the cracks were showing.

Victor crouched in front of him, speaking fast. Damon nodded, already knowing what he had to do. The mistakes were there, and he was going to make Ivan pay for them.

The championship rounds were coming.