MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The anticipation was high as another Quarterfinal showdown loomed just days away. Fans barely had time to process PDD's brutal knockout before the next major fight took center stage, Cuba vs. Japan.

Noal Rameiro vs. Tushin Okado.

Noal Rameiro, the Cuban powerhouse, was a freak of nature. His explosive athleticism, Olympic wrestling pedigree, and granite chin made him one of the most feared fighters in the division.

He was built like a statue, a walking muscle tank that defied the laws of age and physics. At his best, he could explode out of nowhere, sending opponents into another dimension with his sudden bursts of violence.

Tushin Okado, Japan's representative, was a calculated assassin.

If Noal was a nuclear warhead, Tushin was a katana, sharp, patient, and devastating when the moment was right. He had a background in judo, paired with elite-level kickboxing, making him a well-rounded killer inside the cage.

Fans argued back and forth online about who had the edge.

"Noal is too explosive. He'll break Tushin like he did to so many others!"

"Tushin's precision is deadly. Noal gets reckless, and Tushin will put him to sleep!"

"If this goes past the first round, I favor Tushin. Noal's cardio isn't holding up in a war."

"Noal doesn't need cardio if he ends it early!"

The energy in the arena was at a fever pitch as Noal Rameiro and Tushin Okado met in the center of the cage.

Both men touched gloves, a brief, silent exchange of respect. But when they stepped back, their eyes told a different story. There was no hesitation, no feeling-out process.

The fight began immediately.

Tushin wasted no time taking the center of the cage, bouncing lightly on his feet, his stance wide and composed.

He flicked out a sharp jab, testing the distance. Noal barely reacted, his posture loose, hands slightly lowered, eyes locked onto his opponent like a predator sizing up its prey.

Tushin threw another jab, following up with an inside leg kick. It landed flush, but Noal didn't flinch. Instead, he exploded forward, throwing a nuclear right hand that just missed Tushin's chin.

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"He's already swinging with bad intentions!"

Tushin circled away, keeping his guard high, throwing fast leg kicks to slow Noal's forward pressure. But Noal wasn't slowing down. He feinted a level change, making Tushin brace for a takedown, then snapped his head back with a sharp jab instead!

Tushin's footwork was clean, his defense solid, but he could already tell, Noal wasn't normal.

Every strike, every movement from the Cuban had a terrifying confidence behind it. He didn't hesitate, didn't second-guess. He only advanced.

Tushin fired a counter left straight, POP! It landed clean! Noal's head snapped back—

But he didn't even blink.

"OH! He just ate that like it was nothing!"

Tushin stayed composed, chopping another leg kick, circling to the outside. Noal kept stalking, feinting with his hands, forcing reactions.

Then, like a bullet, Noal suddenly dropped levels and shot for a takedown.

Tushin saw it coming.

He sprawled hard, stuffing the attempt, but Noal wasn't done. He adjusted mid-shot, muscling Tushin's legs off the ground and lifting him!

The arena exploded.

"NOAL JUST PICKED HIM UP LIKE HE WEIGHED NOTHING!"

Tushin knew what was coming. He twisted in mid-air, adjusting his weight to land safely, but the moment he hit the ground, Noal was already on him.

Noal landed in top position and immediately unleashed hell.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Elbows, hammerfists, brutal short punches, Tushin's head snapped back with every impact. He desperately framed against Noal's neck, trying to shrimp away.

Then, for a moment, Tushin saw his chance.

He managed to sneak his leg over Noal's shoulder, an armbar attempt!

But Noal saw it too.

Before Tushin could lock it in, Noal brutally slammed him down, breaking the grip instantly!

The crowd roared.

"Tushin tried to catch him, but NOAL'S TOO STRONG!"

Tushin scrambled, trying to get back to his feet, but Noal grabbed his waist and hoisted him up again!

The Cuban lifted him just enough to re-adjust, then suddenly dropped a massive knee straight into Tushin's liver!

Tushin's body locked up. His face twisted in pain as his legs betrayed him. He stumbled backward, his breath completely stolen.

Noal didn't hesitate. A right hook to the temple!

Tushin collapsed against the cage!

The referee hovered nearby. He needed to see something from Tushin. Anything.

But Tushin could barely lift his arms.

Noal stepped in.

BOOM! ANOTHER KNEE!

The shot snapped Tushin's head back, his body crumbling to the canvas.

Still, the referee hesitated.

So Noal didn't stop.

He rained down punches, each one landing cleaner than the last, until the referee FINALLY jumped in!

IT WAS OVER.

The moment the ref waved it off, Noal stood up, shaking his head as he looked down at Tushin's motionless form.

The commentators were just as stunned.

"He ate a clean counter, lifted him, smashed him, and made it look effortless!"

The ref raised Noal's hand.

Cuba advanced to the semifinals.

Japan's run in the tournament was officially over.

The tournament was reaching its boiling point. The quarterfinals had been brutal, showcasing the best fighters each country had to offer. Now, only four nations remained in the middleweight division.

The final matchups were set.

IRELAND vs. ENGLAND

RUSSIA vs. FRANCE

Across every weight class, the story was the same, fighters dropping like flies, leaving only the strongest to battle for the ultimate prize.

With only four(six) nations left, the tournament had entered its most crucial stage.

The stakes had never been higher, victory in the upcoming matches meant securing a place in the semifinals, where the winners would either clash with each other or face one of the remaining contenders from the opposite bracket.

The weight of history loomed over these fights. Ireland and England had long been rivals, both in combat sports and beyond.

For the English fans, this was a chance to prove their dominance in MMA. For the Irish faithful, it was about standing tall and proving that their fighters weren't just riding on momentum, they were built for war.

On the other side, Russia vs. France carried a different kind of tension. The Russian fighter represented one of the strongest combat sports nations in the world, known for their wrestling and relentless pressure.

The French fighter, however, had the agility and unpredictability that had made him a dangerous opponent throughout the tournament.

The winners of these bouts would move on to the semifinals, bringing them one step closer to the ultimate goal: becoming the first-ever World MMA Tournament Champion.

The world was watching.

Only two would survive.