MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

The sound was primal, visceral, like a bat cracking against concrete.

It echoed through the arena, freezing the crowd mid-cheer, silencing the commentators mid-sentence.

Landon's head collided with Damon's knee at full force, the timing so precise it could've been choreographed.

The point of Damon's knee hit Landon just above the temple, dealing the fighter a devastating blow that sent shockwaves through his body.

Landon's forward momentum was immediately reversed, his body snapping back unnaturally as though he'd hit an invisible wall.

His neck arched awkwardly, his arms stiffening in mid-air before dropping to his sides like dead weight.

His legs betrayed him next, locking momentarily before giving out entirely.

He fell backward in a heap, landing on the canvas with a thud that was overshadowed by the collective gasp of the crowd.

For a moment, everything stood still.

The referee, Hank Binn, rushed forward, his eyes wide as he knelt to check on Landon.

The fighter was lying still, with his chest rising and falling slowly and his limbs being stiff in a way that didn't make sense.

He had blood running from the side of his head where Damon's knee had hit him, and his left temple was already starting to swell in a horrifying way.

Jim Logan's voice broke through the stunned silence, his tone a mix of awe and concern. "That… that might've been the cleanest, most devastating knee we've ever seen in the UFA. Damien, I don't think Landon's getting up from this."

Damien Korvier, uncharacteristically silent for a moment, finally found his words. "Jim, that wasn't just a knockout… that was a statement. Damon timed that knee perfectly, and the power behind it… you don't see things like this often. Landon's out cold, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's serious damage here."

Medical staff rushed into the cage and checked on Landon while Damon stood nearby and took deep breaths to calm his chest.

He looked back and forth between Landon and the judge, and his face was hard to read.

Despite the brutality of the moment, there was no gloating, no celebration.

Damon knew what he had done, and he knew the consequences of such a strike.

Damon slowly backed toward his corner, the gravity of the moment sinking in.

The replay screens showed the moment in excruciating detail, the seamless timing, the raw force of the knee, and Landon's immediate stiffening as though his body had been turned to stone.

Fans in the arena covered their mouths, some unable to look away from the devastation on display.

It was over.

Completely, undeniably over.

Hank Binn raised his hand toward Damon, signaling the end of the fight. "That's it! It's over!"

Everyone was silent.

The sound, the impact.

The blood.

Blood usually drew excitement from fans, a primal reaction to the chaos of a fight.

But this was different.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

This wasn't something to cheer for.

That knee had sounded like someone might have died.

Even though Landon could be seen moving slightly as the medics surrounded him, the energy in the arena remained frozen.

No roars, no chants, just hushed murmurs and looks of unease from the crowd.

The commentators broke the silence, their voices careful and measured.

"A knee connecting to the head there," Jim Logan began, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "We saw some blood, and let's hope Landon Ellan is alright. That was… devastating."

Damien Korvier nodded, exhaling audibly into the mic. "Jim, that knee sounded like a gunshot. I mean, I can't imagine the force behind it, especially when Landon's momentum met Damon's strike head-on. The power is just… wow. You don't hear something like that often. That's career-changing damage."

The replay played on the screens again, the impact shown in brutal detail from multiple angles.

Each replay drew gasps from the crowd. Some turned their heads, unable to stomach watching it again.

Hank Binn stood nearby as the medical team worked on Landon, his face tight with concern.

Damon paced slightly in his corner, his breathing steady but his expression unreadable.

The crowd's unease lingered, the excitement of a fight replaced by the heavy weight of uncertainty.

Even the fighters in the back watching the screens couldn't help but feel the impact.

But when Landon finally stood up, supported by the medics on either side, the crowd erupted into cheers.

Relief and admiration replaced the uneasy silence, their voices echoing through the arena.

Yet, as Landon staggered to his feet, it was clear he had no idea where he was.

His vacant expression told the story, a man lost in a haze, oblivious to the fight, the crowd, or even his own name.

The medics had worked quickly.

One had wrapped a thick bandage around the side of Landon's head where the knee had connected, staunching the bleeding.

Another had shone a small flashlight into his eyes, assessing his pupils for signs of severe trauma.

His team hovered nearby, concern etched into their faces.

Damon watched from his corner, his expression unreadable.

He searched for that feeling.

Regret.

Remorse.

Anything.

But he didn't feel it.

The satisfaction he thought might come from such a decisive finish wasn't there. Neither was the guilt. It was… nothing.

A hollow void where emotion should have been.

Damon's mind churned, trying to grasp how he should feel.

He had trained for this, prepared for this.

It was part of the game.

But watching Landon stand there, barely aware of himself, made Damon question something deeper.

He didn't know what to make of it.

And maybe that was what unsettled him the most.

It wasn't that Damon didn't enjoy the win, he loved fighting, with all its challenges and consequences.

But what unsettled him was the absence of guilt.

He had inflicted damage that could ruin a life.

What if Landon woke up and didn't recognize his family?

The thought should have haunted him.

But it didn't.

Watching the medics tend to Landon's dazed, bloodied form, Damon felt… nothing.

No regret, no remorse. Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

And that emptiness was more unsettling than anything else.