MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Victor patted Damon on the back. "Good job there, you're a natural."

Damon chuckled. "It's only right. He stood in my corner; now I stand in his."

Damon cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the cage, "Keep going for the legs!"

Edward responded instantly, throwing a crisp combination of punches that forced Luis to raise his guard.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

He followed up with a low leg kick aimed at Luis's battered thigh.

But Luis anticipated it, checking the kick with his shin.

Damon winced as the sharp sound echoed through the arena. Luis was adapting quickly, and it was clear he was paying attention to the advice being shouted from Edward's corner.

Damon leaned toward Victor, frustration creeping into his tone. "How do fighters even do this? How do you give advice without the other guy figuring it out?"

Victor stood with his arms crossed, his eyes glued to the cage. "Seems we need to develop some team codes," he said, his voice calm. "It's fine for now. Luis can't keep listening forever, and Edward isn't dumb."

Victor didn't elaborate further, and Damon nodded, his focus returning to the fight.

Edward, despite the check, kept pressing forward.

He threw feints, mixing up his timing and targeting Luis's legs with precision.

The strategy was clear, dismantle Luis's mobility and force him into a striking game where Edward had the advantage.

Damon noticed Luis's stance shifting, his weight favoring his uninjured leg.

Edward's focus on the legs was working, but Luis wasn't giving up easily.

Damon could see it, Luis was setting up something, waiting for an opportunity to counter.

"Stay sharp, Eddie!" Damon shouted, his voice cutting through the tension. "Don't get reckless!"

Edward nodded slightly, his eyes locked on Luis, who began circling the cage, looking for his moment to strike.

The fight was becoming a chess match, each man waiting for the other to make a mistake.

Edward pressed forward, maintaining his sharp kickboxing stance.

His jab flicked out with precision, keeping Luis Ortega at bay.

Luis, clearly cautious of Edward's striking power, stayed defensive, circling and looking for an opening to counter or shoot for a takedown.

"Edward is still working those combinations," the commentator noted. "But you can see Luis is starting to anticipate the leg kicks."

Damon watched from the corner, his arms crossed, studying the unfolding exchange. Edward's rhythm was clear, almost too clear.

Edward threw another combination: a quick jab-cross followed by a low kick.

Luis checked the kick again, visibly preparing for the same sequence he had seen multiple times.

Victor leaned in toward Damon. "He's getting predictable," he muttered, just loud enough for Damon to hear.

Damon nodded but didn't call out immediately.

He could see Edward's focus, his determination to chip away at Luis's defenses, but the repetition was becoming a problem.

Luis wasn't engaging offensively anymore; he was waiting, like a coiled spring ready to pounce on any mistake.

Edward launched another jab-cross, stepping into the pocket.

Luis raised his guard, anticipating the follow-up kick.

But this time, Edward feinted the jab and stepped back slightly, resetting.

"Smart adjustment," the commentator noted. "Edward's testing Luis's reactions now."

Edward moved his feet quickly and carefully as he moved back into range.

He threw a half-hearted jab, but it was more of a fake, and Luis's guard instantly went up.

That's when Edward moved.

He planted his back foot, twisted his hips, and and then delivered a powerful leg kick.

The impact was brutal, the sound of shin meeting thigh echoing through the room like a gunshot.

Luis stumbled, his compromised leg visibly buckling under the force.

He grimaced, his balance now shaky.

"That one hurt!" the commentator exclaimed. "Luis is in trouble, he can barely stand on that leg."

Edward seized the moment, closing the distance.

He stepped in with a clean jab, snapping Luis's head back, followed by a crisp cross that forced Luis to retreat further.

Luis tried to circle away, but Edward cut him off, staying on the offensive.

This time, Edward threw a spinning back kick aimed low, slamming into Luis's already damaged thigh.

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The strike sent Luis stumbling back into the cage, his legs nearly giving out.

Damon yelled from the corner, "Keep the pressure! Don't let him recover!"

Edward stayed composed, his movements calculated.

He faked a jab again, drawing Luis's guard up, and then unleashed the moment he had been building toward.

He twisted his entire body with precision, sending a spinning heel kick straight toward Luis's temple.

The strike was fast, fluid, and perfectly timed.

Luis didn't even see it coming.

The kick landed flush with a sickening crack, and Luis's body dropped to the canvas like a marionette with its strings cut.

The referee, Hank Binn, wasted no time, diving in to stop the fight as Edward stood over his fallen opponent, fists clenched, adrenaline surging.

"It's over!" the commentator roared. "Edward Whittaker with an absolutely devastating spinning heel kick! That's how you make a debut!"

"What a setup," the co-commentator added. "Luis was trying to stay defensive, but Edward just picked him apart. That was a masterclass in striking."

Damon let out a loud cheer from the corner, a wide grin on his face.

Victor clapped hard, nodding with approval as they both moved toward the cage.

As soon as the judge ruled the fight over, Edward raised his hands in victory. He looked happy and proud.

Damon and the team stepped into the cage and immediately made his way to Edward, who was still basking in the glow of his victory.

He grabbed Edward, pulling him into a quick, firm hug.

"You did it," Damon said, his voice full of pride. "That was incredible."

Edward grinned, still catching his breath. "Thanks, man. Couldn't have done it without you guys."

The commentators continued their analysis as the two embraced.

"And there you have it, folks," Rick said. "An impressive debut by Edward Whittaker, but it wasn't without its moments of danger. His corner clearly told him not to follow Luis down, but despite the mistake, he showed remarkable composure and found a way to finish the fight."

"Absolutely," Michael chimed in. "Edward's ability to recover after falling into Luis's trap speaks volumes about his mindset and skill set. Not every debutant can bounce back like that."

As Edward raised his hand to acknowledge the small crowd, Damon stood back, watching with a sense of satisfaction.

Edward Whittaker had arrived, and he had done so in spectacular fashion.