MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 594: Tuning the Blade

The weeks that followed were focused and precise. Damon made sure of it.

The American had proven himself not just as a finalist, but as a machine.

Damon had seen enough to know that the guy wasn't all talk, and if Damon wanted to stay undefeated, he needed to train like it was his first title shot all over again.

Each day was structured. Striking drills in the morning. Wrestling in the afternoon. Grappling at night. Conditioning in between.

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The mat squeaked under their feet as they circled. Damon lowered his stance, hands up, tracking Ty's movement.

Ty stalked.

They clashed in a collar tie.

Ty dug for inside control and snapped Damon's head down hard, but Damon absorbed it, kept his feet under him, and slid to the side with a shrug to break the grip. They reset without speaking, the rhythm already set.

Ty faked a shot low. Damon didn't bite.

Then Ty shot in for real, a snatch single-leg, fast for his size.

Damon sprawled, hips dropping heavy, arms locking in overhooks to stuff the shot.

Ty kept driving. Damon stepped around, caught the far leg, and rolled into a scramble.

Ty tried to post, but Damon kicked off the mat and reversed, ending on top.

He floated to side control with tight chest pressure.

Ty bridged. Damon adjusted his base and hooked the near arm, flattening him again.

Ty exploded, rolled to his knees, and tried to peel away. Damon didn't chase immediately.

He stayed behind the shoulder, waited for Ty to open up, then re-anchored with a waist grip and dragged him down flat.

"Beautiful mat return," Victor called from the edge of the cage.

Damon locked a wrist. Ty turned, looking for space to sit out.

Damon circled, dropped a tight spiral ride, and started shifting pressure between shoulders and hips.

Ty tried to lift. Damon posted a leg, blocked the movement, and adjusted again, clean control, zero space.

They rolled for another minute. Ty finally slipped out through a hip switch and stood.

Damon didn't wait. He faked high and shot deep, lacing his hands behind Ty's knee and lifting.

He turned the corner, dumped Ty straight to the mat, and landed in half guard.

Ty locked a knee shield. Damon pummeled through and forced his knee across the center.

Ty tried to bridge and scramble. Damon floated again, this time settling into a deep crossface.

He flattened Ty, transitioned to mount, and dropped his hips low to keep balance. Ty threw off a reversal attempt. Damon leaned forward, pressing Ty's wrists to the mat.

"Alright, time out."

Victor spoke up, as he smiled, stopping the exchange, "Alright you guys take a break, when I come back we can reset and go again."

Damon wiped sweat from his jaw and drank again, his breath evening out. Ty leaned against the cage, arms resting on the top bar.

"Thanks for coming today," Damon said.

"No problem," Ty replied. "Your wrestling's actually improved. If we were the same size, that round would've been a war."

Damon smirked at the compliment, nodding once. He respected Ty's skill too much to pretend it didn't mean something.

"By the way," Damon asked, tossing the bottle aside, "how's the Olympic dream going?"

Ty exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Long road, man. The qualifiers are brutal this year."

He pushed off the cage and rolled out his shoulders. "You gotta go through the national trials first. Only the top guys from that get to the continental qualifiers, like Pan-Ams for me. And even if you win that, you still might need to hit the World Qualifier if the spot isn't secured."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "So even if you're the best in the country, you're not guaranteed?"

Ty nodded. "Exactly. Country gets the spot, not the athlete. So even if I win trials, if our nation doesn't earn the Olympic berth in the weight class, I gotta go fight internationally to secure it."

He chuckled, almost bitter. "It's cutthroat. Politics, timing, brackets, everything matters. But I'm healthy, my weight's stable, and my coaches think I've got the best shot yet."

Damon nodded again, quietly impressed.

"You'll get there," he said. "And when you do, make sure they know who you trained with."

Ty smirked. "If I medal, I'll throw your name out in the post-fight."

They both laughed, letting the moment settle.

Ty squinted at Damon for a second, like he wasn't sure if he was serious.

"Going up?" he repeated. "Man, you trying to make life hard for light heavyweights too?"

Damon smirked, waiting.

Ty shook his head with a laugh. "Look, you got the skills, no question. You're one of the most well-rounded guys I've rolled with. Timing, pressure, transitions, you've got the full set."

He grabbed a towel and wiped the back of his neck before continuing.

"But that weight shift?" Ty pointed at Damon's chest. "That's real. It's not just mass, it's how your frame handles it. How your gas tank holds. And how you take shots from guys built like trucks."

He paused, then grinned. "But honestly? If you can adjust to the size and still keep that speed and balance, you're gonna give a lotta dudes headaches. You're already a problem in your own weight. Going up just means bigger problems."

Damon nodded thoughtfully.

Ty leaned in like he was giving secret advice. "Just don't start doing that heavyweight shuffle, y'know, that slow walk where dudes look like they're dragging a couch."

Damon laughed. "Noted."

Ty slapped his arm. "You'll do fine. Just don't let the size change your style too much. Keep the killer in you, no matter the weight."

Victor returned just as Damon and Ty slapped hands for the reset. He held a towel slung over his shoulder and a water bottle half-drained in one hand.

"Alright, enough lounging," Victor called out as he stepped back onto the mat. "Let's run it again. This time, Ty on top. I want to see Damon work from the bottom."

Ty grinned as he knelt down. "So I get to be the bully now?"

Damon smirked and lay back, adjusting his posture with calm control. "If you can hold me."

Victor dropped to one knee beside them, watching closely. "No lazy setups. I want pressure, angles, control. Damon—don't muscle out. Use technique. Ready?"

Both fighters gave a short nod.

"Go."