MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 626: The Coronation

Deuce Baffer stepped to the center of the Octagon, microphone in hand, his voice echoing through the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, referee Garne Rowen has called a stop to this contest at 4 minutes, 40 seconds of the first round, declaring the winner by submission due to a rear-naked choke…"

As he spoke, Ronan Black approached Damon, the championship belt in hand.

"…ANNNDDDDDDDD!!!

STILLLLLLL!!!!

THE UNDISPUTED, UNDEFEATED UFA MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!!…"

Ronan wrapped the belt around Damon's waist as the crowd erupted.

"…Damon 'The Ronin' Cross!"

The arena shook with applause as Damon stood tall, the belt gleaming around his waist.

Ava clung to his leg, her tiny hand gripping his shorts, unaware of the magnitude of the moment. Damon looked down at her, a soft smile breaking through his stoic demeanor.

The commentary team added their voices to the celebration.

"Damon Cross has done it again, folks. A dominant performance, a statement victory."

"He's not just defending his title; he's cementing his legacy."

As the noise swelled, Damon raised his arms, the crowd's cheers washing over him.

Damon crouched low in front of Ava, still holding the belt in both hands. She looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes, her little hands already reaching for the shiny gold.

"You wanna hold this?" he asked with a soft smile.

She babbled something incoherent, one hand gripping his wrist while the other smacked the belt plate.

Damon laughed gently and turned the belt around in his hands, then slowly lowered it behind her.

He carefully wrapped it around her small waist, holding both ends like he was fitting a royal robe on a princess.

Of course, the belt was massive, more than half her size, so he didn't even try to clasp it. Instead, he held the ends together gently over her tummy.

Ava looked down at it, eyebrows furrowed like she was inspecting treasure. Then, as if understanding the attention, she raised her arms and gave a squeaky cheer.

"There it is," Damon said with pride in his voice. "The real champ."

She clapped her hands against the gold, then turned and stumbled into his chest. Damon caught her, pulling her into a hug before kissing the top of her head.

Her small fingers found the edge of the belt again as she leaned against him, completely at peace.

Damon just smiled and whispered, "Don't worry. This one's for you."

Svetlana stepped forward, gently scooping Ava into her arms.

The baby clung stubbornly to the title, both tiny hands grasping the edge of the gold plate as if it belonged to her.

The belt was far too heavy for her to hold, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"She's not letting go," Svetlana said with a quiet laugh, adjusting her hold so the belt could rest awkwardly across Ava's lap. "Your daughter's already claiming the throne."

Damon chuckled, brushing his hand over Ava's head. "Like father, like daughter."

He turned just as Ronan Black extended a hand. Damon shook it firmly. The UFA president leaned in, muttering something only Damon could hear, but it made him smile and nod in appreciation.

Then, from the corner of the cage, one of the commentators stepped in, mic in hand, weaving through the celebration with practiced ease.

The crowd still buzzed around them, chanting, flashing lights, phones raised. But the atmosphere quieted slightly in anticipation as the mic was raised between them.

"Damon Cross," the commentator said with a grin. "You did it again. One more defense. A flawless victory. I don't even need to ask how you're feeling, because we can see it on your face—but I'll ask anyway. How does it feel?"

Damon smiled as he looked around the arena. He adjusted his stance slightly, letting the moment settle in.

"I feel amazing, really," he said into the mic. "To have this many people behind you, supporting you... and to have my family here too, there's nothing better."

The commentator nodded. "Damon, coming into this match, what was your mindset? Because throughout the fight, we saw what some might call trolling, or at least a very relaxed approach. It didn't look like you felt any pressure."

Damon chuckled. "Look, I take every fight seriously. When I was preparing for Ivan, I trained hard, no shortcuts. When it switched to Shane, I didn't ease off, I did the same work. Even if I believed I could walk him down whenever I wanted, which I showed I could, I still trained. What people saw wasn't disrespect. It was confidence. The moment the bell rang, I could feel the difference between us. And I think he felt it too."

He paused, glancing toward the crowd before continuing.

"I know it's a hard pill to swallow, for him and for anyone still rooting for him, but this was probably the last time he'll ever fight for a title. I made sure of that."

The crowd reacted with a mix of cheers and scattered whistles.

The commentator raised his brows, impressed. "Now, another question. There's been talk, rumors and some direct words from you, that this was your last fight at middleweight. Are you confirming that tonight?"

"Yes," Damon said, without hesitation. "I'm stoked. I've done what I can in this division for now. At this point, there aren't many matchups that excite me here. That could change later, sure. But right now, it's time to move up."

"Well said. Damon Cross, congratulations once again. A dominant performance, and a new chapter ahead."

"Thank you."

The commentator turned back to the crowd.

"Your middleweight champion, ladies and gentlemen, Damon 'The Ronin' Cross!"

The crowd erupted again, the chant of "CROSS! CROSS! CROSS!" rising through the arena.

Damon smiled as he returned to the back with his family, the roar of the arena fading behind them. The energy had shifted, calmer now, warmer.

He reached for the belt in Svetlana's hands, gently lifting it away now that Ava had finally let it go.

Their daughter lay quietly against her mother's chest, her small thumb resting in her mouth, eyes soft and half-lidded from the weight of the long night.

She looked peaceful, completely unaware of the chaos and history that had just unfolded.

Svetlana adjusted her hold, brushing a hand over Ava's back. Damon leaned in, kissed the side of his daughter's head, then glanced at his wife with a smirk.

"She held onto it longer than Shane did," he said.