MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 549: Letting Go

Farc Goddarm had seen enough.

Chemasov, bloodied, trapped, absorbing unanswered shots with nowhere to go. it wasn't defense anymore. It was survival. Barely.

Damon's last hammerfist smashed through the guard, shaking Chemasov's entire frame.

And that's when Farc moved.

Diving between them, his arms out wide.

"THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT!"

The arena erupted.

The bell rang but it was nearly drowned out by the sound of the crowd absolutely losing their minds.

Jim Logan's voice practically exploded over the broadcast.

"DAMON CROSS HAS DONE IT!! OH MY GOD!! HE'S THE NEW MIDDLEWEIGHT KING!!"

Chris Dalton's voice cut in, pure shock in his tone.

"DOMINANT. ABSOLUTELY DOMINANT. HE JUST FINISHED THE WOLF IN HIS OWN WORLD!"

Mike Brewer couldn't even sit anymore.

"THIS WASN'T JUST A WIN, THIS WAS A MESSAGE! DAMON CROSS DIDN'T SURVIVE CHEMASOV… HE BROKE HIM!"

The camera panned wildly over the crowd, people standing on their feet, screaming, holding their heads in disbelief.

Signs waving.

Fans jumping.

Some mouths open in shock.

Others yelling his name.

"CROSS! CROSS! CROSS! CROSS!"

And inside the cage?

Farc was kneeling by Chemasov, checking him, the champion beaten, cut, and bloodied.

Damon stayed there… unmoving.

Head down.

Tears falling freely now, dripping onto the canvas, onto the very ground where he'd just carved his name into history.

He wasn't embarrassed.

He stayed in that exact position as the cage door swung open behind him. Officials walked in, suits, UFA staff, medics heading straight for Chemasov who was still sitting against the cage wall, battered, bloodied but conscious.

But none of it pulled Damon away from that moment.

Victor was the first from his team to step in, quietly. No yelling this time. Just standing beside Damon, hand on his shoulder.

The cameras stayed locked on him.

This image, Damon Cross, knees on bloodstained canvas, head down, tears falling, the new champion of the world, would be everywhere by morning.

A symbol.

A story no one could deny.

This wasn't just a win.

This was his moment.

A lifetime of pain.

A lifetime of fighting.

And now…

The world finally had to call him what he always believed he would become.

Champion.

Standing up slowly, Damon tried to wipe his face with his glove, smearing blood and tears together, making a bigger mess of it.

But when he turned, Victor was right there.

The old man didn't say a word at first.

He just stepped forward and pulled Damon into a tight, father-like hug.

The kind of hug that didn't need words.

But Victor still leaned in close, right by Damon's ear, his voice low, proud, almost shaky.

"Look at you, kid..." Victor whispered like a proud father, voice rough, raw with emotion. "Look what you've done… look who you are."

Damon's arms tightened in that hug for just a second longer.

And despite trying to control it,

the tears didn't stop.

Not here.

Not in front of the man who had seen him grow from a hungry, angry fighter… to the best in the world.

This was bigger than a belt.

This was family.

Back home, in the quiet of their Santa Monica apartment, the atmosphere was entirely different from the roaring arena.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Svetlana sat on the couch, a pillow tucked under her arm, her other hand unconsciously resting on her stomach. Beside her sat Aoife, Damon's mother, and Macey, Svetlana's mother, all three women locked in silence as they watched the screen.

Despite Aoife's well-known dislike for violence, and the brutal nature of this particular fight, she never once looked away.

Not tonight.

Not when it was her son out there. Not when it was Damon.

When they saw Damon win… when they saw him drop to his knees, head down, shaking with emotion, tears falling after years of holding everything in, none of them could hold back their own emotions either.

Especially Svetlana.

Already emotional from the pregnancy, she covered her mouth with both hands as her eyes welled up fast, spilling over before she could stop them.

Macey gently rubbed her daughter's back, her own eyes glassy.

But Aoife…

Aoife didn't cry loudly. She didn't sob.

She just sat there, staring at the screen… her lips pressed tight… her eyes shining.

Her boy.

Her son who never cried much. Who never complained. Who had grown up through things no child should endure. Who fought through life before he fought in a cage.

And now here he was.

Breaking down on the biggest stage in the world,

not from pain, not from fear, but from finally letting go.

Pride.

That was all she felt.

Pure, unfiltered pride.

Svetlana on the side was no different.

This wasn't just some fighter on the screen.

This was her man.

Her best friend. Her partner. The father of their child.

Watching Damon break down like that, watching him finally let go of everything he buried so deep inside him, it tore her apart in the most beautiful and painful way possible.

Because she knew.

She knew how much he struggled. How much he fought not just in the cage, but in life. How often he carried his pain alone without complaint. How often he smiled when it hurt.

And seeing him there,

raw, vulnerable, real, it broke whatever wall she had left.

She cried hard.

Quiet at first… then shaking as the tears kept falling.

Her hand gently rubbed over her stomach, over their unborn child, as if trying to share this moment, this pride, this love with them too.

"This… this is your father," she whispered under her breath, voice cracking. "That's your dad…"

She was proud of him in ways words couldn't hold.

Proud of the man.

Proud of the fighter.

Proud of the father he already was.

And God… right now, she wanted nothing more in the world than to be by his side.

To hold him.

To kiss him.

To remind him that he was never alone anymore.

That whatever wars he fought, inside or out, were theirs now.

And that made her cry even harder.

Ashley came back from the hallway, wiping her hands with a towel, her little boy toddling behind her, barely steady on his feet.

"Did I miss the end? Come on…" she groaned playfully, expecting maybe a highlight replay or some crazy KO moment flashing across the screen.

But as soon as she stepped in, she paused.

Everyone was crying.

Macey quietly wiping her eyes.

Aoife sitting still, holding her own tears back like only a mother could.

And Svetlana... God, Svetlana looked completely broken in the softest way possible, hugging her stomach like it was the only thing keeping her together.

Ashley blinked, confused for a second, until she turned her head to the TV.

There it was.

Damon, knees to the mat, head down, crying into his hands. The blood on his face, the roar of the crowd around him, his body shaking, not from damage, but release.

All those walls he had built for years? Gone.

And it hit her instantly.

Ashley's mouth parted a little, that tight ache forming in her chest before she could even stop it.

"…oh," she whispered, soft, real.

The lump in her throat came fast. The sting in her eyes quicker.

Damon Cross, not the fighter, not the killer in the cage, but the boy who survived everything he wasn't supposed to.

Ashley sat down slowly, pulling her son onto her lap as tears quietly rolled down her cheeks too.

"…shit," she sniffed, laughing through the tearful mess. "Now y'all got me crying too."