MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The meeting ended with a quiet "click" as the door shut behind them. Victor and Damon smiled at each other in a way that said a lot without words.

"Well," Damon said, letting out a low whistle, "that went better than I thought."

Victor's grin widened. "Better? Kid, that was a home run."

Victor had done something really cool, and Damon had to agree. He didn't think the meeting would bring much, maybe a bump(which is still a lot) to $20k or $25k for show and win. But what Victor managed to secure? That was on another level.

From a modest $12k to show and $12k to win, Damon's new contract now promised $50k to show and $50k to win.

"That's insane," Damon muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "From $12k to $50k? How the hell did you do that?"

Victor smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Kid, it's all about leverage. They know you're hot right now—seven wins, no losses, highlight-reel knockouts. They see dollar signs every time your name pops up. All I did was remind them of that."

Damon chuckled, his mind already racing. He wasn't just looking at the numbers in isolation, he was multiplying them in his head, factoring in the system's rewards.

At $50k to show and $50k to win, each fight was essentially a million dollars in his pocket. Two fights, and he'd clear a 2 million.

He had expected to negotiate for something more modest, maybe $20k to $25k. But this? This was a game-changer.

"You realize," Damon said, his tone laced with amusement, "you just made it so I could buy a damn Ferrari soon enough."

Victor laughed, patting Damon on the shoulder. "Let's worry about keeping you in the win column first, champ. Then we'll talk Ferraris."

As they walked toward the exit, Damon's mind was still full.

"Seriously, though," Damon said, glancing at Victor, "thanks for this. I couldn't have done it without you."

Victor waved a hand dismissively. "You're the one stepping into the cage, kid. I'm just here to make sure you get what you're worth. And trust me, this is only the beginning."

When Victor left the building, he walked with a spring in his step and a rare look of excitement on his face.

Damon was right behind them, still thinking about the huge deal he had just signed.

Victor turned around and waved for Damon to get in.

"See, what I'm about to tell you," Victor began as he slid into the driver's seat, "is even bigger than that contract. This isn't just beneficial for you, Damon, it's going to revolutionize MMA as we know it."

Damon buckled his seatbelt, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, you're killing me here. What is it?"

Victor turned on the engine, and as they drove out of the parking lot, the soft sound of the engine filling their ears.

Even though he kept a serious face, Damon could see something in his eyes that made him want to know more.

"So, here's the deal," Victor began, glancing briefly at Damon. "What I'm about to tell you is still under wraps, but it'll be announced officially by the end of the month."

"Alright," Damon said, leaning back in his seat. "Hit me with it."

Victor's voice dropped slightly, "They're forming a global governing body for MMA, like FIFA for football. The idea is to oversee the sport at an international level, unify the rules, and organize something we've never had before."

Damon frowned, intrigued. "A global governing body? Like, what would they even do?"

Victor smirked. "Oh, just something that'll blow everyone's mind, a global MMA tournament. Think of it like the World Cup, but for fighting. Each country will select its representatives, the best of the best, and they'll compete on an international stage."

After a moment, Damon's eyes grew a little wider as the thought hit him. "Wait, you mean countries would send their top fighters to compete? Like a medal or a cup? That's… insane."

Victor nodded, his voice gaining momentum. "Exactly. Fighters from every corner of the world, all representing their nations. Heavyweights, middleweights, flyweights, you name it. Each weight class gets its own tournament, I'm still not sure on that tho. The finals would be watched by millions, maybe even billions. And for fighters like you? It's the ultimate chance to prove yourself on a global stage."

Damon let out a low whistle, his mind racing. "That's… next-level. But how's it gonna work? The logistics alone sound like a nightmare."

Victor chuckled, turning the wheel smoothly. "That's the beauty of it. They're using the existing MMA infrastructure, promotions like UFA, TWO, and others. Each organization will nominate fighters based on rankings and performance and help countries choose. The new governing body will handle the rest, venues, broadcasting, and sponsorships."

Damon ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, that's huge. So, what does this mean for me?"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Victor gave him a sidelong glance, a sly smile playing on his lips. "It means you better keep winning, kid. Because if this thing really kicks off, they're gonna want the best. And if you keep going the way you are, you'll be a shoe-in to represent Ireland."

Damon leaned back, letting the magnitude of Victor's words sink in. A global MMA tournament. A chance to fight not just for himself.

As Damon sat in the car, the big idea Victor had told him kept going through his mind. A grand MMA tournament, a lot to take in.

He was interested in the idea, but he couldn't help but wonder how it would work in practice.

"What about the countries without strong fighters?" Damon muttered to himself. "Do they just not qualify? Or will it be like other sports where they have wildcard entries?"

Victor glanced at him briefly, catching his murmuring. "What's on your mind?"

Damon shrugged. "Just thinking… it's not exactly fair for countries without a solid MMA scene. And even if they have fighters, they might not get far."

Victor nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "True. But that's the nature of competition. It's not about fairness, it's about skill. If a country doesn't have fighters who can hang, they're not gonna make it far, but that's how the sport grows."

Damon mulled over Victor's words, leaning his head against the window as the car hummed along.

The idea of different weight classes gave him a small sense of relief.

At least there would be multiple opportunities to represent a country.

But that brought another thought, one that made his stomach tighten slightly.

If it came down to representing Ireland, there was no doubt who the favorite would be, Collin NcGyver. Ireland's pride. A fighter whose name was practically synonymous with Irish MMA.

Damon couldn't help but respect Collin; the man was a legend, after all, once his role model.

Welp, as long as he gets to play for his mother's birth country, also his, it's not like he really cared about nationality and all that.

Either way, Damon felt good about this competition. It was good for martial arts, as most people rejected the idea of fighting being a sport because of violence.