MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 723: Teams Are Set

The draft continued without delay. Each coach took their time, but neither dragged it out.

There were no surprises, just focused decisions. Both knew exactly what they wanted from their teams.

Soon, the selection came to an end.

Each team had four lightweights and four middleweights.

Damon’s middleweight picks:

José Alvarez (Brazil)

Elias Murad (Lebanon)

Theo Brunner (Germany)

Kaito Mori (Japan)

José was the power striker with clean form. Elias had strong grappling and calm, tight pressure.

Theo brought raw strength and athleticism but still needed polish. Kaito was a counter-puncher, sharp, patient, and efficient.

Ivan’s middleweight picks:

Dorian Vega (Mexico)

Arman Petrov (Russia)

Chase Dunham (USA)

Thami Zulu (South Africa)

Dorian was aggressive and loud, all forward motion. Arman had a sambo base and strong top control. Chase was a well-rounded grinder.

Damon looked over at Ivan’s team as they stood together.

One of them caught his eye more than the rest, Thami Zulu.

He remembered his fight from the footage. Fast hands, awkward angles, and power in both legs.

Damon didn’t know much about South African fighters. Outside of PDD, no one had really broken through at the top level. But Zulu looked different. Calm, explosive, and not afraid to take risks.

He wasn’t on Damon’s team, but that didn’t matter.

Damon planned to watch him closely.

Sometimes it wasn’t just about your own fighters. It was about seeing who else could rise. Zulu had something. It wasn’t polished, but it was there.

Now it was just a matter of whether he could keep it together once the fights began.

Ronan stood in front of both teams, cleared his throat, and let the room settle.

"Alright," he said. "You guys picked your fighters. You know what your teams look like. Now we move forward."

He paused, looking over both groups of eight.

"Here’s how it’s gonna go: You’re split into two teams, Team Damon, Team Ivan. You’ll train. You’ll spar. You’ll live together. Every day’s gonna be on camera. That’s part of it."

He stepped closer, pointed to each coach alternately.

"Each week, you’re gonna fight. Lightweights first, then middleweights. Winners stay in. Losers go home. Simple."

He glanced at Damon, then Ivan.

"Damon, Ivan, it’s your job to get your guys ready. Not just fit. Mentally ready. Fight-ready. You pick the first fight of the week."

Then he turned back to the fighters.

"Fighters, listen up. You’re here for one reason: to earn a spot in the UFA. Nothing else matters. You win, you stay. You lose, you pack your bags."

He let that sink in.

"This isn’t practice. It’s real. Cameras aren’t distractions, they’re witnesses. So be loud if you need to be. Be strategic if that’s who you are. But when it’s time to fight, leave it all in the cage."

He looked at both coaches one more time.

"Coaches, set your teams for week one tonight. Pick your first fights wisely. We train tomorrow morning. First fight will drop in two weeks."

He paused, then added quietly:

"This is more than a TV show. It’s a real path. If you win here, you’re fighting on the big stage."

He nodded once, firm.

"Let’s get to work."

He turned and left them standing there, eight fighters ready for war, two coaches already planning their next move, and a season that had officially begun.

Soon enough, Damon and his fighters made their way into the team locker room. No cameras here, just fighters and the man they’d be training under for the next few weeks.

Damon waited until everyone had settled in. Some leaned against the walls, others sat on benches. A few stood with arms crossed, still sizing each other up.

He stepped forward.

"Alright," Damon said. "You made it here. That’s step one. But this isn’t a celebration. This is work."

He looked around the room, meeting a few of their eyes as he spoke.

"I picked each of you for a reason. Not because you’re perfect, but because you have something I can work with. Some of you are more experienced. Some of you are raw. Doesn’t matter. From here on out, you’re on a team."

He glanced at Ronny, then Max, then the rest.

"Tomorrow morning, we start with drills. Movement. Basics. I want to see how you train, how you listen, and how you spar. That’s how I’ll figure out who’s ready and who needs work."

No one spoke. They just listened.

"One more thing," Damon added. "Fights come fast. I don’t wait two weeks to make picks. I’m watching now. How you talk. How you carry yourself. How you train."

He folded his arms.

"If you want to fight early, make sure I notice you for the right reasons."

The room stayed quiet, but the tension changed. A few of them straightened up. Some looked at each other. It was clear now, first impressions mattered, and they had already started.

Damon nodded once.

"Get rest. Light meal. Water only. Training starts at six."

He stepped back, letting them take it in. First day was over. But the real test would start tomorrow.

One of the assistant coaches Damon had brought along stepped up beside him.

"You’re doing well," he said.

Damon nodded. "I guess I gotta learn fast."

He wasn’t a full-time coach. Not yet. But he understood fighting, understood discipline. That part translated.

The rest, handling a team, managing energy, planning sessions, that would come with time.

Across the building, something similar was happening in Ivan’s locker room.

Ivan stood in front of his fighters, laying out the plan. He told them what they’d be doing, when it would happen, and what he expected.

They’d start with warm-ups, positional drills, and light sparring. Conditioning in the afternoon. Discipline at every step. Anyone acting out would be sent home.

While the fighters got ready to turn in for the night, both coaches stepped away with their assistants.

Now came the next part, setting up the training schedule, choosing partners, and making sure no one got injured early. One bad injury could change the whole season.

They needed smart planning.

It was time to build the road to the first fight.

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