MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon settled into his seat, adjusting the straps of his carry-on before sliding it into the overhead compartment.

He quickly looked around the cabin and could feel the settled murmur of people getting comfortable.

The business-class section was spacious, with wide seats and enough legroom to stretch out.

He couldn't help but smirk as he sat down and fastened his seatbelt.

Victor had made a joke about it earlier.

"Business class, huh? Better enjoy it, kid, 'cause you're paying for it."

At the time, Damon had laughed, brushing it off.

But now, as he reclined in the soft leather seat and glanced at the menu options, actual meals instead of snack-sized pretzels, it hit him.

He wasn't just some kid scrapping for a chance anymore.

He had money.

Real money.

The fight payout had been respectable, $12,000 to show, $12,000 to win, but the system had its own twist.

He could still remember the notification that lit up his interface after his full payment from the UFA.

[Fight Earnings Multiplied: 10x Bonus Applied. Total Earnings: $264,000]

[Total Balance: $274,000(10k from TSF)]

Damon chuckled to himself, shaking his head. It felt unreal.

He went from living in a small alleyway and hotel with his mom to sitting in business class with over a quarter million dollars in his account, it was like stepping into someone else's life.

Leaning back, he glanced out the window as the plane started to taxi. Thailand was next.

The money was nice, but it wasn't going to distract him.

His thoughts were still on the training camp and how he needed to do well there in order to rise and get recognition, but nit just that.

If he wanted to keep seeing a ding in his balance after each fight, he should train and better himself.

"Still," he muttered under his breath, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Rich."

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to savor the thought before mentally shelving it.

And of course to say he was just doing this because he loved fighting or whatever would be lying. Sure, he loved fighting.

But.

Besides the system, the reason that pushed him to fight was money, survival, and getting it felt satisfied... but he wanted more... he didn't want to go back to that ever again.

Damon took a quick look around at the people on board as the plane sped up.

Most of them were quietly reading magazines, messing around on their phones, or talking to their neighbors in a low voice.

Also, Damon had made sure to handle one last thing before heading to Thailand, sending his mother $64,000.

He knew she would resist, but he didn't care. Why else was he working so hard if not to take care of her?

When she tried to push back, saying she didn't need that much and that he should save it for himself, he refused to argue.

The money was already transferred.

She'd raised him, supported him, and now it was his turn. Damon had one thought as he boarded the plane, This is what all the fighting is for.

With the plane steady in the sky, Damon shifted in his seat, glancing around for something to pass the time.

He spotted a passenger nearby flipping through a magazine, and it reminded him of the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him.

He reached forward, sliding out a magazine that looked standard enough.

A vague smile formed on his lips. "Well, it's not like I have anything better to do," he muttered, flipping it open casually.

But his grin vanished instantly, his eyes widening in shock.

Inside the pages was another magazine with a nude woman looking back at him with confidence.

Damon's face turned red as he snapped the magazine shut with a sharp flick, glancing around like a guilty child.

His gaze darted from one passenger to the next, scanning for any sign that someone had noticed.

Thankfully, everyone seemed blissfully unaware, engrossed in their own activities.

Damon let out a shaky sigh of relief and leaned back, holding the magazine at arm's length like it might explode.

"Who the hell puts this stuff in here?" he whispered to himself, shaking his head.

His lips curled into an embarrassed smirk as he slid the magazine back into the pocket, determined to act as if the moment had never happened.

Leaning back, he stared out the window, hoping to distract himself from his brief encounter with the unexpected.

But Damon couldn't resist the temptation. The outer cover of the magazine provided a perfect disguise, it looked like an everyday read.

He opened it again, flipping through the provocative pages with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

He thought he was in the clear until the woman seated beside him, also holding the same magazine, spoke up, her tone casual but curious. "What do you think about their article on summer trends? Personally, I feel like oversized sunglasses are overrated. Thoughts?"

Damon froze. His mind scrambled for an answer. What summer trends? What sunglasses? He hadn't even glanced at the actual articles. "Uh… yeah, I mean…" he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to come up with something remotely convincing.

But before he could embarrass himself further, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

A young man probably about his age or lower, seated behind him leaned forward, drawing Damon's attention away from the awkward exchange.

The young man leaned in, his grin infectious. "You're Damon Cross, right? From the UFA?"

Damon blinked, his brain cells still catching up to the moment. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

The guy's excitement was palpable as he stood up and moved to Damon's side. "Man, can I get a picture? If you don't mind!"

Damon nodded, his reflexes taking over. "Sure, no problem."

The teen quickly held up his phone and leaned in close for a selfie.

Damon put on a polite smile, angling his head toward the camera. The flash went off, and the guy beamed as he checked the photo.

"Thanks, man! This is awesome. You're a beast in the cage!" The teen walked back to his seat, grinning ear to ear.

Damon gave him a polite nod, but then something clicked. His stomach dropped.

The magazine.

His eyes darted down, and there it was, sitting wide open on his lap, the nude woman staring back at him in full glory.

Damon's face flushed as he slapped the magazine shut and stuffed it into the seat pocket.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have paid attention. The teen was too thrilled with his photo, and the rest of the passengers were still minding their own business. Damon leaned back in his seat, exhaling sharply.

"That was way too close," he whispered to himself, running a hand over his face. He couldn't believe he'd been so careless. If anyone had seen that… he shuddered at the thought.

For the rest of the flight, he resolved to keep a low profile and avoid any further incidents.

He pulled out his earbuds, popped them in, and stared out the window, hoping to leave the embarrassing moment behind.