MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 731: Between Rounds

The horn had barely stopped echoing when Damon stepped through the cage door.

José was already seated on the stool, his chest rising fast, sweat running down his back.

Rafael was checking his gloves and rubbing his shoulders. Another assistant dabbed at a small mark near his left eye, but it wasn’t serious.

Damon crouched in front of him. He kept his tone firm.

"You’re doing well, but you let him off the hook."

José nodded once, still breathing through his nose.

"When you rocked him, you backed off too clean. That moment, that was your window. You had space to finish, but you paused."

Rafael translated quickly. José nodded again, eyes still locked on Damon.

Damon continued. "I get it, you didn’t want to rush and gas out. That’s smart. But when you hurt someone and they’re up against the fence, you don’t reset. You pressure, you force the mistake."

He pointed briefly toward the center of the cage. "You’re reading him well. Your jab is landing. Your body shots are slowing him down. But now he knows you’re measured. He’ll start swinging wild to shake momentum."

Damon leaned in slightly.

"Next time you clip him, don’t hesitate. Don’t wait for the perfect shot. You don’t need five punches. You need two smart ones, one to pin him, one to drop him."

José nodded again. No emotion, just understanding.

"Keep the center. Don’t let him circle off for free. Cut the cage and angle him into the fence. If he leans to his right like he did earlier, throw the hook, then the knee."

Damon gave his shoulder a quick pat. "You’re winning. Stay sharp. Stay active. Don’t get lazy with your guard, he’s gonna swing. Make him pay for it."

The ten-second warning sounded.

"Breathe. You’re in control now."

José stood up as the stool was pulled away. Damon stepped back, exiting the cage, eyes still on his fighter.

Round two was next.

The second round began with a different pace.

José stepped out of his corner with more intent. His footwork was tighter, and his positioning sharper.

He didn’t waste time taking the center, he claimed it immediately. Dorian circled right, arms higher than before, still blinking from the damage taken in round one.

Damon stood just outside the cage, watching closely, arms crossed, saying nothing now.

José had heard the instructions. This round was about whether he could apply them.

The tempo picked up fast.

José opened with a jab to the chest, then snapped a quick low kick across Dorian’s thigh.

Dorian fired back with a looping right hand, but José had already moved. He circled left, cutting Dorian’s space instead of resetting completely like before.

This time, he didn’t give up ground.

Dorian threw another right hand, this one aimed at the temple, but José rolled under it and came up with a tight left hook that clipped the jaw. Dorian backed off instantly. José chased, but with control.

He feinted high, then stepped in with a stiff jab that snapped Dorian’s head back again.

Dorian covered up, and José went straight to the body, left hook, right hook, both landing clean on the ribs.

Dorian tried to clinch, but José pushed off and angled around him, keeping the cage behind his opponent.

Dorian swung wide, an overhand right that missed badly. José ducked and answered with a knee to the midsection. It landed hard. Dorian winced and stepped back, his breathing heavier now.

Damon called out calmly, "Don’t follow, angle!"

José listened.

He didn’t chase in a straight line. He stepped left, then fired a lead hook to the body followed by a short elbow that grazed Dorian’s forehead.

Dorian’s guard stayed high now. He wasn’t thinking about offense. He was trying to survive the pressure.

But José didn’t overdo it.

He gave just enough space to bait Dorian into reacting. A second later, Dorian fired a desperation jab.

José parried it and countered immediately with a sharp right hand over the top. It wasn’t a full power shot, but it caught Dorian clean on the cheek.

Then José capitalized.

He backed Dorian up with another jab, faked the right hand, and when Dorian flinched, he threw a perfectly timed step-in knee that landed high on the chest. Dorian stumbled and caught himself against the cage.

This time, José didn’t hesitate.

He threw a quick hook upstairs, forcing Dorian to duck, then launched a right uppercut that barely missed. Dorian circled out fast, hands wide, trying to reset.

José didn’t chase blindly.

He followed in control, throwing a jab and low kick to keep the pace high, making sure Dorian couldn’t rest.

Dorian tried to fire back with a counter left, but it lacked speed. José slipped, then returned a sharp cross to the nose. Dorian’s head snapped back again.

The fight had shifted.

Dorian was still dangerous. He had power and heart. But José was taking over.

The timing was better. The footwork was smarter. He wasn’t just fighting now, he was executing.

The second round was still going, and there was time left. But every second was now José’s to manage.

The pace had risen.

And so far, he was handling it perfectly.

José kept to the center, staying behind his jab. The timing was sharper now.

He slipped Dorian’s counter and punished him with a straight to the nose, then cut the angle with a low kick that landed hard.

He didn’t stop there. Damon’s voice echoed behind him, short, direct reminders, and José followed the cues, adjusting his distance instead of chasing.

Dorian responded with tighter form. He blocked the next combination and fired a quick elbow inside.

It grazed José’s temple. José clinched for control, threw a knee to the thigh, then broke free with a short hook that caught Dorian square.

Dorian backed off. His balance held, but José was gaining control.

José cut him off, stepped in with a tight right cross, it snapped Dorian’s head back. For a second, Dorian froze. That was the moment.

José hesitated.

The window closed fast. Dorian moved, regained posture, and fired back with a lead uppercut that grazed the chin and pushed José off rhythm.

They reset.

José missed his chance. Damon didn’t yell. He just stood, arms folded, reading José’s posture.

The pace stayed high. José threw a rear body kick that landed flush.

Dorian winced but returned with a stiff jab that marked José’s cheek. Both men moved like they still had more to prove, and the pressure didn’t let up.

There were no theatrics. Just sharp choices, minor openings, and two men trying to edge ahead in a fight where one slip could swing the round.