Hannah Peters/Getty Images

There's something so cool about UFC heavyweight Mark Hunt (10-8-1)—entrancing even. He's a human paradox, a man whose very existence defies the carefully crafted rules that govern the world of combat sports.

A gargantuan with neck tattoos and fists of granite, he should be one of the scariest men alive. A man who beats people up for a living definitely shouldn't exude such zen and peace, even in the midst of carnage.

And yet...

In the cage there are no secrets, not when Hunt, 40, is fighting. His game is simple as games go. He wants you to make a mistake, to duck your head just a little too low, leave your chin unprotected just a little too long. And then he pounces. A man that size, old and fat to be frank, shouldn't be able to move like that.

And yet...

A fighter who once lost six in a row, who has been hit in the head over and over again, by everyone from Jerome Le Banner to Antonio Silva, doesn't belong among the top 10 fighters in his weight class. He's at the point of his career when most are little more than punching bags. He lost to Sean McCorkle, for God's sake; he shouldn't be in contention for a UFC title.

And yet...

At the Saitama Super Arena in Japan Hunt, he sent his American counterpart Roy Nelson flailing to the mat with a brutal right uppercut and then stepped over his prone body without once changing expression. With that win he's punched his ticket right to the top of the heavyweight ladder. Not only does he deserve it—he also can sell it.

"I want to move forward," Hunt told the press after the fight. "I want to move up in the rankings. I want to get a title shot. My purpose is to fight for a title."

If there's any justice in this world, Hunt's dreams will soon be realized. His bout with Silva was an all-time classic—the Nelson pratfall a moment that will live forever on highlight reels. It's these things that separate Hunt from other rising contenders in a barren division.

Stipe Miocic, a Twitter sensation, hasn't caught the eye of the casual fan inside the cage—yet. Junior Dos Santos has had his shot—twice. It's time for the oldest dose of new blood in the sport. It's time for Hunt.

Sure, champion Cain Velasquez has the wrestling to befuddle the former kickboxer. Standing, he has the length and skill to frustrate Hunt between takedowns. He has the cardio to go hard for five rounds, the submission prowess to defend against a surprisingly robust ground game and the team behind him to take advantage of every flaw.

Hunt shouldn't be able to beat Velasquez—not in a million years.

And yet...