MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 575: Late Stoppage?

PDD tried to break free, but Damon adjusted his grip, circling off the cage and pulling him slightly off center, using angles to stay ahead.

Each time PDD pushed back, Damon responded with a sharp knee or a hidden strike to the ribs.

They weren't full power, but they were placed well.

Control was returning as soon as he lost it. The pressure was shifting again.

Damon stayed locked in the clinch. PDD kept trying to posture up and break free, but every time he created a gap, Damon filled it with a short strike, an elbow across the temple or a knee to the body.

PDD shifted his hips to the left and tried to underhook. Damon responded instantly, he switched his grip, looped his arm around the inside, and stepped his right leg behind PDD's lead.

With a sudden turn and drop of his weight, Damon dragged him down.

It was a technical drag-down, smooth and efficient.

PDD hit the mat and tried to scramble, but Damon followed through, staying chest-to-chest as he pinned him against the canvas near the cage wall.

One knee wedged near the hip, the other sliding up to control the posture.

The top control was sharp. No space to move.

PDD bucked his hips and turned to one side, trying to create motion. Damon adjusted, keeping heavy pressure through his chest and hips.

He pulled PDD's head back toward the mat, then postured just enough to create space for his right hand.

Then came the strikes.

Damon dropped a hard elbow.

Then another.

PDD brought his arm up to shield his face, but it wasn't enough. Damon's shots started slicing through the defense, bouncing between the forearms and finding gaps near the temple and cheekbone.

Blood started to show.

PDD twisted, planted his feet, and tried to bridge, explosive but desperate.

Damon rode it out, flattened him again, and delivered another pair of heavy elbows that cracked against the top of the head.

"Damon's pouring it on now!" the commentator shouted. "Those elbows are vicious! PDD's stuck!"

PDD wasn't giving up.

He shifted again, trying to turn toward the cage to wall-walk, but Damon floated with him, hooking the far arm and smashing another elbow down as he pinned him back to the mat.

Now Damon postured fully. He raised both arms and rained punches. Left. Right. Elbow. Right again.

Every strike snapped PDD's head back or crashed into the arms. The shots were clean, and they were fast.

PDD tried to shrimp his hips out, just enough to pull guard.

But Damon passed straight into half-guard, keeping his base strong as he trapped the legs and threw two more hammerfists that forced the referee to move closer.

"PDD's trying to stay alive in there, but Damon is overwhelming him!"

Damon kept working, his breathing controlled, eyes locked in. He wasn't just swinging wild.

He was placing every strike. Every shot was meant to break the defense and end the fight.

PDD's hands started to slow.

The elbows came down again, sharp and direct.

The fight was slipping away from him.

And Damon could feel it.

PDD's hands were no longer reacting with rhythm. They moved to block, but slowly.

The earlier fire, the frantic urgency, was dulling under the weight and damage. His guard opened for half a second.

Damon didn't waste it.

He postured, then dropped his hips low and shot his right arm under PDD's neck in a sudden transition.

It looked like he was going for a head-and-arm choke, but instead, he used it to pull PDD's upper body off the mat just enough to expose his face.

With one knee still pinning the legs and his other foot planted for balance, Damon wrapped the left arm around the back of PDD's head.

Then he started throwing short, compact elbows from the side. Not big swings, just sharp, repeated strikes from inches away, targeting the same spot near the cheek and temple.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

PDD tried to twist out, but Damon pulled tighter. He wasn't giving him space to move or breathe.

The elbows kept coming. Six. Seven. Eight.

Each one dug deeper.

The ref stepped in closer, eyes locked on PDD.

Damon pushed the framing arm aside, sat slightly higher on the chest, and trapped both of PDD's wrists against his own thigh with one arm.

Then, with the other, he hammered down a final elbow, straight to the nose.

That was it.

The referee jumped in, waving his arms as he threw himself between them.

"Stop! That's it!"

He wrapped his arms around Damon and pulled him back as Damon let go without resistance.

"IT'S OVER!" the commentator shouted. "Damon Cross with a brutal, technical finish! That was dominance start to finish!"

PDD didn't collapse, but he lay there flat, blinking and dazed, one hand lifting too late as the damage settled in.

"He couldn't defend anymore," the second analyst said. "He was still awake, but that was going to get worse quick. That was a good stoppage."

But the other didn't agree, " I would think he should have stopped it on two elbows In, PDD was already dazed and couldn't defend the moment he was down, heck I think before Damon did that weird move of his."

Damon stayed kneeling for a moment, breathing steady, blood scattered across his arms and gloves.

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Then he stood up, looked out into the crowd, and walked to the center of the cage.

Another name crossed off.

The first defense done.