MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon stepped out of the white van, dragging his suitcase and carrying two bags over his shoulders.

Walking into the Training Center.

The facility was massive, filled with state-of-the-art equipment and buzzing with the energy of fighters and trainers preparing for their sessions.

Over the past week, he had taken the time to say his goodbyes.

He had spent quality moments with his mother and had shared several heartfelt conversations with Svetlana.

Despite their close connection, nothing romantic had happened between them.

Damon felt a lingering sense of anticipation, as if a final push might elevate their relationship to something more.

But he refrained. He was heading away for a month or more, and he didn't want to leave things unresolved or make promises he couldn't keep.

Before arriving, Damon had gone to the hospital for a blood test. He assumed it was to check for performance-enhancing drugs.

He felt bad for anyone who might be disqualified for weed, as for PEDs well...

As he walked further into the Training Center, Damon noticed the fighters standing in clusters, their voices low, and their faces tense.

The room was filled with anxiety. Damon scanned the group, trying to gauge the mood.

He spotted Kevin, who was leaning against a wall, looking restless. Damon approached him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Eyy, bro."

Kevin turned around, his smile fading as he took in Damon's serious expression. "Yoo Damon, you good?"

Damon nodded, glancing around at the other fighters. "Yeah, just trying to figure out why everyone's so quiet."

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The officials just announced that elimination matches will happen today."

Damon's eyes widened. "Wait, how's that going to work? I thought we were supposed to be split into teams by the UFA coaches first."

Kevin shrugged, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, that's what we were told. But now only 16 of us will make it into the house. The coaches will be watching these elimination matches to decide who they want on their teams."

Damon's stomach tightened at the news. He looked around, seeing the nervous energy in the room, and realized the stakes were higher than he had anticipated.

He gave Kevin a firm nod. "Got it. Thanks for the heads-up." Appreciating the gesture.

Kevin gave a small, encouraging smile. "You got this."

Damon took a deep breath and straightened up.

He moved towards the area where the fighters were gathering for the elimination matches.

Two hours later, an official stepped forward, silencing the room with his presence.

"Alright, everyone, here's how it will work. We'll call out names, and if your name is called, head to the office," he said, pointing to a door across the room.

The mood of the room shifted very quickly. Nervous glances and hushed conversations spread among the fighters. "Are those the ones disqualified?" someone whispered, eyes darting toward the door.

The official cleared his throat and began reading names. "Daniel Barkley."

A fighter, his face pale and eyes wide, moved toward the door, his footsteps heavy and uncertain.

"James Davison."

A tall man, his posture stiff, gave a curt nod before heading to the office. His eyes betrayed a mix of boredom and concern.

The official continued, calling two more names. With each name, the tension in the room grew so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Fighters exchanged worried looks, their hands fidgeting, their breaths shallow.

When the official finally finished reading, he folded the paper and scanned the room with a firm gaze.

"Four of you will skip the first round of eliminations due to the actions of others. The rest of you will face the eliminations as planned. Go change into your gear and meet me back here."

A collective sigh of relief was followed by a wave of nervous energy.

Fighters hurried to the lounge room.

As the fighters began to disperse, the official's voice cut through the murmur.

"Ethan Grove, Mandy Lane, Carlos Rodriguez, and Mason Reed, you four will stay behind. You won't be participating in this round."

The four named fighters exchanged relieved glances, their faces lighting up with unexpected joy.

A few fighters cast envious looks their way, but most simply shrugged, resigned to the situation.

Damon, having not heard his name called, felt a wave of relief and excitement.

Fighting was what he loved, and he wasn't about to let himself be weighed down by envy.

Damon lifted his baggage, checking that it was securely fastened before heading to the locker room.

He quickly changed into his fighting gear, the familiar fabric settling comfortably around him.

Outside, the cameras continued their relentless filming, capturing every moment of the day's drama.

Damon was sure they were amplifying the tension to stir up more excitement and animosity among the fighters, with the disqualification and the surprise eliminations.

He knew the eliminations would spark tension. Fighters who had formed bonds would feel the sting of seeing their friends go.

Even if they weren't close, the departure of a familiar face could create friction in the group.

But Damon didn't give a damn about who was who's friend. He wasn't here to make friends; he was here to compete.

As he finished adjusting his gear, his focus sharpened.

As Damon walked toward the hall where the octagon cage was set up, he noticed a group of fighters already distancing themselves from their so-called 'friends.'

It was no surprise, competitiveness ran deep in everyone who stepped into the ring.

If they had to face one of these former allies and lose, the stakes were even higher.

Reaching the cage, Damon and the rest surrounded the cage.

The official stepped forward and surveyed the crowd with a serious expression.

"Good," the official said, his voice cutting through the murmur of the fighters. "I will call out two names. When your name is called, step into the cage and give your best performance to secure your place in the house."

Damon took a deep breath. He wished he was picked first, while he wanted to see how everyone fought, he didn't want to stay here and watch fights while waiting for his.

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