MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

As time went on and Damon's departure from Thailand got near, he became more and more focused.

The simulation had become his safe place since the system came back and he bought the wrestling program.

He felt like the days were just a blur of sweat and repetition, but each workout got him better.

Damon jumped into the Simulation every chance he got and did things that were meant to test him in every way.

Drills for wrestling, defenses against takedowns, and strategic escapes. It was hard to do well in every lesson.

These fights, whether they were against Balim Chemasov again or against other fighters, were hard but satisfying.

He began to see patterns in his movements and weaknesses in his form, all of which he worked tirelessly to correct.

His transitions got smoother, his defenses against takedowns got stronger, and he slowly gained more confidence on the ground.

Damon kept up the same level of physical training when he wasn't in the simulation.

He split his time between the mat, the gym, and learning everything Wichan could teach him in their last days together.

As Damon left the simulation, he leaned back against the wall and let out a deep breath.

His mind kept going back to the question, "If I can get this much better in just a few days, what could I do in months?" Years?

It gave him a little thrill, but he stopped himself and thought for a moment.

He might have been getting a little too obsessed.

His biggest strength had always been his constant desire to go further.

But if he didn't learn to pace himself, it could also be his downfall.

He shook his head, smirking at his own thoughts. Obsessed or not, it's working.

When Damon got back to the real world, he quickly opened his system screen and went to the [Masteries] tab.

He saw the familiar blue-and-gold screen and quickly read through the updates.

His level of Muay Thai skill stayed the same five stars, with the last star only half full. Nodding,

Damon wasn't shocked. He was already very good at Muay Thai, but it would take a little more time and work to fully learn the art.

But when he saw his Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, he laughed even more. It had gone up a lot and was now at three and a half stars.

The extra half-star meant that his grappling game was getting better, slowly but surely.

Then his gaze moved to his wrestling. It had been at one and a half stars just a few days ago, but now…

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Damon chuckled, the grin on his face unmistakable. "This is too easy," he muttered, though he knew better than to underestimate the work he still had ahead of him.

Closing the system interface, he glanced out the window.

Damon heard a knock at the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. He stood up, brushing his hands over his shorts before opening it.

A young man stood there, someone Damon recognized from the gym, but they hadn't spoken much before.

The guy looked a little nervous, shifting on his feet as he met Damon's gaze.

"Kru… calling you," He spoke in broken English with a thick accent, stressing each word carefully as if he wasn't sure of how to say it.

Damon raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Thank you," he said simply, offering a small smile to ease the guy's awkwardness.

The young man nodded back and turned to leave, visibly relieved.

Damon closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. Kru Wichan is calling me? That was unexpected.

Wichan hadn't actively sought him out for days, leaving Damon to his own devices while training others.

He glanced back into the room, his eyes landing on his bag and the small suitcase he'd packed for tomorrow's flight. Everything was in place for his departure.

Straightening his posture, Damon patted down his shirt absently and opened the door again.

Damon stepped out of his room, his steps purposeful. He knew exactly where Kru Wichan would be.

This wasn't the first time he'd been summoned, and Wichan was nothing if not consistent about where he liked to hold conversations.

As he approached the spot, the sound of voices became clearer.

Damon slowed his pace, his sharp eyes catching a familiar silhouette, a shorter figure standing beside Wichan.

"Is that…?" he muttered under his breath.

The man turned, and Damon's suspicions were confirmed. Standing with Kru Wichan was none other than Kru Somchai.

Damon's brow furrowed slightly in surprise.

He hadn't seen Somchai in months.

He'd wondered before why Somchai hadn't been the one to train him, but when he'd asked, Wichan had brushed it off with a simple explanation: family matters.

Damon squared his shoulders and walked closer, bowing his head respectfully as he approached. "Kru," he greeted, his tone formal.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Both men turned to him, Wichan with his usual stoic expression, and Somchai with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Damon," Wichan said, nodding slightly. "Good. You came quickly."

Somchai crossed his arms, looking Damon over as if assessing him for the first time. "You've changed," he remarked, his voice carrying a calm yet curious tone. "Months of Wichan's training will do that, I suppose."

Damon smiled faintly, keeping his composure. "It's been… intense, but worth it."

Wichan let out a small grunt, stepping forward. "We have something to discuss. Both of us." He gestured for Damon to follow them further into the private area.

Damon nodded and fell into step behind them, curiosity stirring in his chest. Whatever this was, it felt important.

Somchai nodded at Wichan, signaling for him to take the lead. Wichan stepped forward, his posture straight, his hands clasped behind his back as he began to speak.

His English was clear enough to understand, though his words carried the weight of a non-native speaker carefully choosing what to say.

"Mongkol," Wichan started, his voice steady, "is not just decoration. It is more than… something pretty you wear on head."

He paused, his sharp eyes meeting Damon's as if gauging whether he understood the gravity of the topic. Satisfied, he continued.

"It is tradition. Symbol of respect. Respect for gym, for kru, for family… and for fight itself," Wichan explained, gesturing slightly as he spoke. "Long ago, Mongkol was given only to fighters who were ready. It showed they trained hard. Discipline, patience, honor, without these, no Mongkol."

Damon nodded slowly, absorbing the words.

"Mongkol is not only symbol, but protection," Wichan added, his tone deepening. "Kru bless it before fight. Give it power, like… spiritual shield. When you step into ring, it is not just you. You take kru, gym, and all who support you into battle. Mongkol reminds you."

He paused for a moment, his expression serious. "But… Mongkol must be earned. Not just given because you want. It shows trust. Kru believes you are ready for ring, not just body, but mind. Spirit."

Somchai chimed in, his tone lighter yet equally firm. "In Muay Thai, we do not fight for self only. Mongkol reminds us… we fight for something bigger. Gym, family, tradition."

Wichan nodded at Somchai's addition, then looked back at Damon. "You understand now?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Damon nodded earnestly, his respect for the tradition deepening with each word. "Yes, Kru. I understand."

Damon's eyes caught the item in Somchai's hands. It was the Mongkol, a beautifully woven headpiece that radiated a sense of tradition and pride.

The braided cords were a deep red and gold, the colors interwoven with intricate patterns that seemed to tell their own story.

Small charms hung delicately from the sides, their subtle shine catching the light as it moved.

Wichan stepped forward, his voice firm yet warm. "Unfortunately, me and Somchai cannot travel with you around the world while you go into battle. That is why… we give this."