MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

As soon as the fight ended, Chirper exploded with reactions.

The platform was flooded with posts, fans and analysts alike marveling at Damon's performance.

Comments ranged from respectful awe to outright hype, showcasing just how much of an impression he had left.

@Filiosg24:

"Easy work for Damon Cross. That wasn't even a fight, it was a clinic. #CrossEra #IrishMMA"

@Millergun7:

"Damon Cross is scary. Grappling, striking, composure, he's got it all #WorldMMA"

@Caster1601:

"Cillian looked like he walked into a lion's den. Cross just proved the gap between 'good' and 'elite.' #CrossEra"

@PunchDrunkPanda:

"This is why they call it the Cross Era. The man doesn't just win, he dominates. #MMA #SubmissionKing"

@RealObserver:

"The way Damon baited Cillian into making mistakes was next-level. That arm triangle? Flawless. #IrishMMA #FutureChampion"

@TheNotoriousFanboy:

"Damon Cross is what happens when preparation meets skill. Cillian never stood a chance. #RespectButFacts #CrossEra"

@MemeLord:

"Damon to Cillian: 'Thanks for coming, mate. Enjoy the lesson.' #Cold #CrossEra"

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Even fighters and analysts chimed in, offering their thoughts:
Your journey continues on empire

@FTalkFight:

"Man, Damon Cross is looking untouchable. That kid's got championship material written all over him."

@AnalystMMA:

"Let's be honest, that wasn't just a qualifier, it was a message to every middleweight in the World MMA Tournament."

The hashtags #CrossEra, #MMA, and #IrishPride trended globally within minutes, turning Damon's victory into a viral moment.

And now, the world was watching even closer.

Cross Era was real and it was not stopping.

This was even worse for the other fighters still waiting to compete.

The way the fans were talking, it already felt like Damon had won this entire qualification phase, even before the other fights had taken place.

The confidence in him was overwhelming.

Meanwhile, Damon walked back to the locker room, calm and composed.

He wasn't even sweating.

The fight had been clean, clinical, and quick, but he knew better than to get carried away.

As he sat down, Damon allowed himself a moment to reflect.

Sure, it was satisfying to dominate like that, but a small part of him wished he could have a win like that in the UFA.

That fast.

Maybe even faster.

But Damon knew the reality. Wins like this didn't come easy at the top level.

The reason this match had ended so quickly was because of Cillian's mistakes, overextensions, predictable movements, and a lack of composure.

UFA fighters, especially the top-tier ones, rarely made those kinds of errors.

They were sharp, disciplined, and unforgiving.

As effortless as this fight felt, he knew the challenges ahead would be nothing like it.

The official turned to the remaining two fighters, gesturing for them to head back to their assigned locker rooms.

"You two, go prepare. Your match is up next."

To be fair, they had a slight advantage compared to Damon and Cillian, they had more time to warm up, strategize, and compose themselves.

But that didn't change the excitement brewing among the spectators.

The next fight had people buzzing.

James Phillip, the fighter Damon thought looked familiar, was a name that carried weight in certain circles.

It turned out he was a UFA fighter, though not one that Damon had paid much attention to.

The other fighters and fans, however, recognized him immediately.

But even with his UFA experience, James wasn't a big sensation.

He wasn't a champion or even a top contender.

His reputation hinged on his raw power and striking ability, but that was about it.

The real interest wasn't necessarily about James proving himself at the top level, it was simply the curiosity of seeing him fight again.

It had been a long time since his last bout, and fans were eager to see what he still had in the tank.

Yet, even with that intrigue, the consensus was clear: James Phillip wouldn't measure up to Damon.

For all his striking power, Damon's name had already overshadowed him, and the fans didn't see James as a real threat to the Cross Era.

With his fight done, Damon leaned against the wall and glanced at Victor.

"So, when I qualify," Damon began, his tone casual but curious, "how's this going to work? Am I staying here in Ireland to train?"

Victor nodded, a small smirk forming. "Unless you want to spend a fortune flying back and forth every week, yeah, you'll have to settle here for a bit."

Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I better get used to Ireland then," he said with a faint smile.

"What about the UFA?" Damon asked after a moment, his voice tinged with concern.

Victor sat down on the bench across from him, leaning forward slightly. "The UFA will be fine, but you probably won't be able to compete for them while the tournament's happening. This is a big deal, Damon. It'll take all your focus."

Victor paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"If you're worried about the title shot, don't be. It's not going anywhere. And if my word isn't enough for you…"

He smiled, his confidence unwavering. "Win the tournament. No one's going to deny you anything after that."

Damon chuckled, shaking his head. "I trust your word, Victor. Always have."

Victor nodded, leaning back. "Good. Now let's focus on finishing this qualification phase first. One fight at a time."

Damon smirked, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into a quiet determination. "One fight at a time," he echoed.

Victor stopped mid-step, turning back toward Damon.

His expression shifted from casual to curious as he glanced at his watch, then back at Damon.

"Yeah?" Victor asked, folding his arms and leaning slightly against the doorframe.

Damon hesitated, clearly struggling with whatever was weighing on his mind.

His hands fidgeted briefly before he finally spoke.

"I have a very important question to ask," Damon began, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

"It's about Svetlana. I know it's not the time, and with everything going on, it might sound ridiculous."

Victor raised an eyebrow, his curiosity deepening. "Alright," he said calmly, stepping back into the room. "What's on your mind?"