Chapter 77 - Chapter 76: Untitled Battle

After days of speculation and negotiations, Nate Diaz finally agreed to step in, but not without setting conditions that left the UFC brass stunned. Leaning back on his yacht deck in Cabo San Lucas, sunglasses on, tequila glass in hand, he casually told the matchmaker over the phone:> "Look, man, there's no way I'm going to drop to 150 pounds in ten days. I'm sitting at almost 185 right now. If you want me to fight, cool, but it has to be at 170 pounds. Not a single pound less, or there's no deal."The request sounded outrageous, almost like a joke. But Diaz knew exactly what he was doing. With Rafael dos Anjos injured and the UFC scrambling to save its blockbuster card, he held all the leverage. Dana White's options were evaporating by the hour, and Diaz could feel it through the line."Deal," Dana White finally spat through gritted teeth, each syllable echoing his frustration. He had no choice.The call was immediately patched through to Yogan's manager, David Chen. The news blared over the loudspeaker inside the AKA Training Gym's office, where the entire team had gathered. For a few seconds there was silence, and then an uproar erupted."No! Absolutely not!"Coach Javier was the first to explode, his face red with anger, practically spraying spit as he barked into his phone."You want Yogan, a fighter who just moved up from Featherweight, to jump two entire divisions and fight a cruiserweight-sized monster known for durability and strength? Even though Diaz is a Lightweight on paper, at 170 pounds he's a fully hydrated welterweight beast! This isn't a fair fight at all. This is playing with Yogan's career! I absolutely disagree!"Even Daniel Cormier, usually the joker of the group, had lost his smile. He spoke with measured seriousness:"That Diaz guy has a granite chin and endless cardio. In the welterweight division he's got huge advantages, and he's a jiu-jitsu grandmaster. This is a crazy risk. We shouldn't take it."For once, every core member of the team was in complete agreement. The risk seemed too great, the timing too short.But before they could send their rejection to the UFC, Yogan himself walked into the room. He had just finished a brutal five-minute rope workout; sweat dripped from his face and shoulders. Without saying a word, he wiped his forehead with a towel and listened quietly as DC laid out the reasons they should decline.Then he looked at his worried teammates and gave a small, enigmatic smile."Coach, DC… do you remember what I said on the conference call?"His voice wasn't loud, but there was a calm certainty in it that cut through the noise."I told you it doesn't matter who I fight. For me, this is actually a good thing. I don't have to cut a ton of weight, and when my body's strength is fully unleashed, I can finally show the world just how strong I am."He let the words sink in before adding, almost teasingly:"And don't forget, we still have Plan B. I know that 'zombie' a lot better than you think."The room fell silent. Yogan's confidence was contagious. Slowly, the resistance faded. Coach Javier sighed heavily. DC shook his head but cracked the faintest smile. They had seen this look on Yogan before — the look he had before knocking out Jose Aldo, before shocking the MMA world.An hour later the UFC made its announcement, practically glowing with relief. What had been a collapsing card was suddenly transformed into a spectacle:> Featherweight King Yogan will jump two divisions to face "Stockton Bad Boy" Nate Diaz at 170 pounds.No belts, no weight cuts, no excuses — just a high-stakes superfight.The fighting world erupted. Social media went into meltdown. The hashtag #UFC196 was retweeted and debated millions of times within 24 hours. Fans from both camps clashed online, trading predictions and insults. Headlines screamed about the UFC "turning disaster into magic."Las Vegas sportsbooks released odds within hours. Surprisingly — but understandably — Yogan opened as the slight favorite at –160, while Diaz sat at +140. The numbers reflected a complicated market mentality: on one hand, Yogan had just destroyed Aldo in record time and represented the cutting edge of fight science and training. On the other, Diaz was the unpredictable "system buster," the kind of fighter data models could never quite capture.Famous names weighed in. Analysts broke down footage. And one question dominated all the chatter: had Yogan ever faced a monster like Diaz?On his podcast, veteran commentator and jiu-jitsu black belt Joe Rogan spoke with unusual gravity:> "Listen, Yogan's technique is phenomenal. His punching accuracy, distance control, reaction speed — it's Great Master level. But here's the problem: Nate Diaz is a zombie. He doesn't care about your technique at all."Rogan leaned closer to the microphone.> "His jaw is made of granite. You can land the most perfect power punch on him — he'll bleed, he'll stumble, but he won't fall. He'll wipe the blood off his face, grin at you, and walk forward throwing Stockton Slaps and endless combinations."He paused before the killer line:> "Even scarier is his cardio. He can fight ten rounds. Can Yogan keep his perfect form for five full rounds against a fully hydrated Diaz? I'm not so sure."Meanwhile, another respected voice, welterweight veteran Demian Maia, offered his own analysis from a grappler's perspective:> "People underestimate Nate Diaz's most powerful weapon — his jiu-jitsu. Cesar Gracie awarded him a black belt. His submission count is among the highest in UFC lightweight history. Yogan's wrestling defense is excellent, but he's never faced a guy who can launch submissions from any angle in the Octagon."Maia's conclusion was blunt:> "Diaz's style is to wear down your stamina and your willpower with constant punches. When you're tired, you make a mistake. He drags you to the ground and it's over. His arms and legs are like a giant spider web. Once you're in it, almost nobody escapes. Does Yogan have a plan for that? That's the key to the fight."For days, television networks, sports radio shows, and podcasts repeated the same debate. Could Yogan's precision and explosiveness overcome Diaz's iron chin, endless cardio, and submission traps? Would moving up two weight classes slow Yogan's speed or, paradoxically, unleash his full power?Inside the AKA gym, Yogan trained with a steely focus that unsettled even his own coaches. Sparring partners rotated in and out, fresh bodies every round, trying to mimic Diaz's relentless pace. Yogan barely flinched. His body seemed to thrive at 170 pounds — his punches cracked like cannon fire, his scrambles on the mat faster than ever.Coach Javier adjusted drills to prepare for the "spider web," bringing in elite jiu-jitsu players to attack Yogan from odd angles. DC pushed him on the wall pads, forcing him to fight out of clinches and dirty boxing. Everything in camp revolved around one mission: neutralize the zombie before the zombie smothered them.Outside the gym, Las Vegas transformed into a pressure cooker. Eleven days out, billboards glared with Yogan and Diaz's faces, casino odds ticked on giant screens, and fans lined up for tickets as if it were a championship fight — which, in some ways, it was. It wasn't for a belt, but for legacy, for pride, for the right to claim supremacy in chaos.By fight week, reporters were calling it "the most unpredictable main event in UFC history." The narrative had shifted from despair to destiny. What began as a desperate scramble to save a pay-per-view had become a story bigger than any title fight — a showdown between the precision of a surgeon and the chaos of a street brawler.And in the middle of it all, Yogan remained unshaken. During media obligations he spoke little, smiling faintly, letting Diaz and others trade insults. To fans he looked like a silent mountain, a king watching a storm roll in.The monster in Las Vegas was about to be released — but nobody knew whose monster it would be.---