MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Cellan's strengths stood out right away. His boxing was crisp, powerful, and fast.

Damon could tell that Gustalam's left hand was particularly lethal, a weapon he used with pinpoint precision.

He didn't just throw punches; he threw them with an intent to finish.

This skill, paired with his speed and agility, made him a menace at close range, and he could close the distance on taller opponents with impressive footwork, something that Damon would have to be cautious of.

Then there was Gustalam's wrestling background.

The guy knew how to mix up his game, shooting for takedowns when his opponents least expected it, using his wrestling both offensively and defensively.

He could keep an opponent guessing, constantly shifting between strikes and takedowns.

Damon respected that versatility, knowing it could disrupt his own rhythm if he didn't stay sharp.

Damon also couldn't ignore how strong Gustalam was. The man had a rock-solid chin, and every fight showed how tough he was.

Even when he took a beating, he pushed through, as if the harder the fight, the stronger he became.

And that cardio, Damon had to admit, Gustalam's stamina was something else.

He'd seen him stay active and dangerous through grueling five-round battles, barely slowing down, his pace relentless and unyielding.

But no fighter was perfect, and Damon found areas where he could exploit weaknesses. Gustalam's reach disadvantage, for one.

Standing around 5'9", he was shorter than most middleweights, which meant he sometimes struggled against opponents who could control range well.

Damon's 6'2" height advantage might allow him to keep Gustalam at bay, forcing him to fight from a distance where his power wasn't as effective.

Another thing that caught Damon's eye was Gustalam's inconsistency. Since his iconic fight with Ismael Desayen, his performances had been a bit unpredictable.

While he'd never lacked aggression, Damon had seen moments where Gustalam struggled to maintain his top form, especially against more elite-level opponents.

It was something Damon would keep in mind; if he could push Gustalam hard enough, maybe he'd find that inconsistency creeping back in.

And then there were those defensive vulnerabilities. Gustalam's aggressive approach sometimes led him to drop his guard, exposing him to counters.

Damon spotted instances where he'd been caught by clean shots because he was so focused on pressing forward.

A well-timed counter or a sharp combination could capitalize on those openings.

Damon also noticed Gustalam's reliance on boxing over a complete striking game. He rarely threw kicks, which limited his versatility compared to other middleweights.

Damon's Muay Thai background gave him an edge here, he could vary his attack, using kicks to control range and keep Gustalam from getting too comfortable in close quarters.

Lastly, while Gustalam's wrestling was solid, he rarely used it offensively on the ground.

He could defend well and had a good takedown game, but his ground control and submission game weren't as threatening.

Damon saw this as an opportunity; if he managed to get Gustalam down, there was potential to outmaneuver him or wear him down with control rather than risking a stand-up brawl.

In summary, Damon knew he'd be up against a relentless powerhouse with solid boxing, agility, and resilience.

Gustalam would bring the fight to him, no doubt, but Damon felt ready, seeing a path to victory by exploiting the gaps he'd found.

Now, with a clear plan forming, it was time to take his newfound knowledge into the Simulation.

Damon got into bed and pulled the covers over his body to get ready to start the simulation. He was about to close his eyes and jump in when his phone rang.

The screen lit up in the dark room.

Curious, he stretched out an arm, grabbing the phone from the bedside table.

He glanced at the notification, his brows lifting slightly in surprise when he saw the message:

[Hey, I heard about your trip to Thailand.]

Damon paused, reading the message from Svetlana. A small smile crept onto his face as he typed back a reply.

[Yeah, looks like I'll be training there for a while. It's all pretty last-minute.]

He set the phone down for a moment, considering how to approach it.

The trip was a big opportunity, but it would mean being away from everyone he was close to.

As the thought settled in, his phone lit up again with another message.

[That's amazing! But… I'm gonna miss having you around here.]

He felt nice from what she said, and it reminded him of how much he valued his connection with her. He carefully chose his words as he typed back.

[I'm gonna miss you too. But I'll be back soon, and we can always keep in touch, right?]

A moment later, her reply came through.

[Of course. Just promise you won't come back with an accent!]

He laughed, and the stress of the day began to melt away. He typed one more message and then put down his phone.

[Deal. I'll catch you tomorrow?]

As he lay back, a sense of peace settled over him.

Damon was just about to slip into the simulation again when it hit him.

"Ah, damn it, I didn't tell Mom about Thailand," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

He let out a sigh as the thought raced through his mind. Was it really time to go now? He was getting ready for a long trip around the world while she had just told him about her problems.

But as he lay there, he shook his head. "I'll think about it tomorrow," he murmured to himself, closing his eyes.

There was still time to sort it all out, at least until after his fight with Gustalam.

No point overthinking it now.

With a final exhale, he let the tension fade, easing back into his plans for the night.

The blank white scene shifted, morphing into a gym with a spacious ring in the center.

Damon watched as a figure began to take shape before him, pixel by pixel, growing clearer with each passing second.

Standing before him now was Cellan Gustalam. Stocky and powerful, Gustalam was built for close-range combat.

At 5'9", he had a compact, muscular frame, his body honed through years of training.

His arms were thick, built for delivering crushing hooks and uppercuts, and his torso looked like a wall of muscle, ready to absorb punishment and keep moving forward.