MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 835

Chapter 835: Chapter 835: Quiet Victories

Joey soon left the house to head back to his family.

Before leaving, he had updated Damon, his brother was finally doing better, the knee fully healed from surgery and strong enough to walk again.

He was already looking for work, wanting to move forward after everything.

It was good news, a quiet victory that felt overdue.

When Joey left, the apartment returned to calm. Fight week was behind them, and for the first time in days, the air felt light again.

Damon let himself breathe, knowing life outside the cage was still moving forward too.

He felt genuinely happy for Joey. After everything they’d been through, Joey deserved the peace and stability he finally had, a strong family, a partner he loved, a son growing up healthy.

But his thoughts stayed a moment longer on Joey’s brother.

Damon made a quiet note in his head to see if there was anything he could do to help him find work.

The man’s life had shifted overnight, from being a fighter to suddenly having to think about something entirely different.

Even if the knee had healed enough for day-to-day life, it wasn’t the kind of healing that could carry a professional career again. Fighting, or any heavy physical sport, was off the table.

Damon knew that reality could hit hard. He didn’t want Joey’s brother to feel like the world had shut its doors just because one part of it ended.

It was a small thought, but it stayed with him, a promise to help where he could.

That night, Damon stayed up with Svetlana after Ava was asleep. They sat together in the quiet living room, the lights low, the sound of the ocean faint through the windows.

He told her about Joey, the proposal plans, the nerves, and how proud he felt seeing his friend reach this point in life.

He made her promise not to mention it to Ashley, even teasing that it wasn’t gossip, just something he wanted to share with her.

Svetlana listened closely, smiling to herself. She wasn’t cold, just naturally reserved, but around him she let go of that shyness.

She shared pieces of her own day, small updates, little details she wouldn’t bother to tell anyone else.

It was a quiet exchange, easy and natural, the kind that came from trust.

They didn’t need to speak much or plan anything; it was enough to sit close, talk about the people they cared for, and let the long week settle into calm.

Damon woke up early, made breakfast for everyone, and then headed out for training.

Today’s session was focused on taking him deeper into pure boxing. His hands were already sharp, and the system had pushed his boxing to a five-star level, but he knew that was still different from living in the ring full-time.

Pure boxing demanded another layer of skill, tighter footwork, cleaner defense, and a rhythm built only for punching.

No kicks, no takedowns, no threat of elbows. It was a different world, and if he wanted to cross over and win, he had to sharpen everything even more.

The gym was quiet when Damon walked in, only a few early birds moving through their warmups. He gave a nod in greeting, then slipped into the locker room to change.

He could’ve trained in his own space, but Victor had called him late last night, saying he’d arranged coaches who could help expand his skills, or at least guide his transition into boxing.

As Damon wrapped his hands, the weight of it settled in. He wasn’t just sharpening for one path anymore.

Light heavyweight still demanded his attention, boxing was now on the table, and deep down, he still felt the pull toward heavyweight.

Before, it had all seemed possible. Every challenge, every division, felt like something he’d reach in time.

But standing here now, he realized the clock wasn’t as open as he thought. He still had time, but which path to start on first? That was the question that wouldn’t leave his head.

Damon leaned against the heavy bag, letting the tape bite into his knuckles as he finished wrapping.

Light heavyweight still had names lined up, real contenders waiting for their shot. He hadn’t run through that division the way he had middleweight.

Heavyweight was another ocean entirely, new size, new power, a different kind of risk. And now boxing sat on the table, pulling at him in a way nothing else had.

He wasn’t trying to become a boxing world champion. That wasn’t the point.

The point was to test himself, to stand across from specialists and beat them at their own craft. But that would take focus, time, and a whole new rhythm.

So which came first? Defend the light heavyweight strap and keep the MMA machine moving, or jump straight into boxing while the hype was fresh?

He bounced a fist against the bag lightly, lost in thought. There wasn’t a wrong answer, but there sure wasn’t an easy one either.

Damon stepped away from the bench, rolling his shoulders loose.

He moved in on the heavy bag and started his usual warm-up, slow jabs first, testing range, letting his hands wake up.

The thud of leather echoed across the mostly empty gym.

But this time there were no kicks, no half-faints toward knees or calves. Just hands.

Straight shots, hooks, uppercuts. He focused on the stance, the weight shift, the small pivots. Everything that mattered in pure boxing.

He slid to his right, snapping a double jab, finishing with a right to the body. The bag swung back and he caught it, reset his guard.

His footwork felt a little off, heavier than he liked, but that was why he was here. MMA let him blend things; this had no room for shortcuts.

Step, jab. Step, hook. Breathe. Reset.

He could feel the difference already. Pure boxing punished wasted movement. No clinch rescues, no kicks to reset distance. Just hands and timing.

Damon hit the bag again, sharper this time, and exhaled slow through his nose. Today wasn’t about power; it was about rewiring how he thought in a fight.