MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 451: The Unblemished Record

It wasn’t long before the matchups were released, and as expected, the news spread fast.

Damon’s opponent was from Brazil, an undefeated fighter, just like him.

The stakes were high. 0 vs. 0.

In MMA, an undefeated record carried weight. It wasn’t just about pride, it was about perception.

A fighter with a clean record had an aura of invincibility, a psychological edge that couldn’t be bought or trained.

When two undefeated fighters met, it wasn’t just another fight; it was a battle to see whose legacy would remain untouched and whose would take its first stain.

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For Damon, this was familiar territory.

He had seen what happened when fighters obsessed over keeping their 0 intact, it made them hesitant, cautious, afraid to take risks.

But he wasn’t like that. He never fought to protect a number.

Still, it mattered.

An undefeated record was a symbol. And if he took this guy’s?

It would push higher.

In MMA, an undefeated record could mean two things.

One: You hadn’t faced real adversity. Maybe the matchmaking had been kind, the right fights at the right time, never truly being tested. Some fighters built their records this way, carefully managed, never pushed beyond their limits.

Two: You were the real deal. No matter who stood across from you, no matter the style, the skill, the danger, you walked through them all. You adapted, overcame, and proved time and time again that there was no answer for you.

Damon knew which category he belonged to.

And come fight night, he was going to make sure everyone else knew too.

Damon’s opponent was from Brazil.

Leandro "O Gigante" Silva.

A towering middleweight, physically imposing even for the division.

Silva had a reputation in the South American fight scene as a monster, someone who moved like a light heavyweight but carried the speed of a welterweight.

He had spent years running through competition in BLF, and now, he was stepping into the world stage for the first time.

What made Silva different was his ability to fight smart while still being a brute. He wasn’t just a brawler, he was calculated.

His striking was precise, and his ability to mix in grappling at the right moments made him a well-rounded threat.

With the matchups officially announced, the buzz around the tournament reached a new level.

The undefeated vs. undefeated narrative added even more weight to Damon’s fight. Fans and analysts debated the outcome, but many were already calling it, this was the biggest fight of the tournament’s first round.

Leandro Silva was no joke. His undefeated run in BLF had been dominant, and many believed he was Brazil’s best middleweight outside of UFA.

But Damon wasn’t concerned about the hype. He had dealt with hype before. He was the hype.

At the team facility, Damon sat with Victor and the others, watching footage of Silva. The Brazilian’s fights were methodical.

He didn’t waste energy, knew when to push forward, and his physicality allowed him to bully opponents in the clinch.

His striking was clean, but his power was what stood out, every shot he landed had serious weight behind it.

Victor pointed at the screen. "He’s strong, yeah, but not clean enough. He commits to his shots too much. If you take that away, he crumbles."

Damon nodded, his mind already working through openings. "He hasn’t fought anyone who can keep up with him technically. He’s used to overwhelming guys."

"Exactly," Victor said. "He’s a shark that’s never fought another shark."

The analysis continued, but Damon already knew the approach, pressure, technique, control.

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Silva was a wrecking ball, but wrecking balls only worked if they landed cleanly.

Damon’s training had been running smoothly, but it was clear to everyone that he was the one in control.

There was no micromanagement, no unnecessary input from the coaching staff, especially not from Tommy Hughes.

Tommy was still present, standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching every session with his usual stern expression.

But that was all he did. He didn’t throw out corrections, didn’t bark orders, didn’t act like the head coach.

And Damon understood why.

Tommy might not admit it, but he was walking a fine line. He had already lost one of Ireland’s fighters.

If Damon decided he didn’t want to fight for them, that was it, Ireland was done. No more chances.

No more representation in the tournament. And that would be on Tommy.

So, he kept quiet.

Damon didn’t need his advice anyway.

His training camp was already structured, his preparation calculated. Victor had everything running smoothly, and even if Tommy had something to say, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

The gym had a strange energy now, a mixture of focus and tension. The team members who had survived this far were putting in work, but the losses Ireland had already taken still loomed over them.

They needed Damon to win. And Tommy, no matter how much he hated being in this position, needed Damon more than anyone.

With the next event creeping closer, preparations intensified. Fighters sharpened their techniques, finalizing game plans, and dialing in their weight cuts.

For Damon, though, things had been smooth. He never let himself slack, but the truth was, he had it easier than most.

His body was in peak condition, his skills refined, and his mind was locked in.

The real work had been done long before he even set foot in England.

Now, it was just about maintaining everything and stepping in there ready to break whoever stood across from him.

Still, outside of training, he wasn’t blind to everything else around him.

England had been great, a country filled with history, culture, and more than enough places to explore.

But he hadn’t had time to appreciate any of it. He barely left the gym, the hotel, or the arena. It had been fight, recover, train, repeat.

And he knew Svetlana had been wanting to explore. She had mentioned it a few times, nothing too direct, but he could tell.

Since arriving, she had been interested in visiting different spots, seeing the city for what it was beyond just fight week locations.

But between the tournament, training, and his schedule, they never got the chance.

Damon didn’t say anything about it, but he made a mental note.

If things went the way they should, if he handled business in this next fight, then maybe he could ease up a little.

Not abandon training, obviously, but at least breathe for a second.

Let himself enjoy the moment before diving headfirst into the next war.

For now, though, all of that could wait. The only thing that mattered was winning.