The crowd had gone completely silent. The cheers, the laughter, the confident shouts, everything cut off at once as every pair of eyes locked onto Ryan’s unmoving body. He lay flat on the ground, arms sprawled out, legs heavy and limp.
It had all happened so quickly. Too quickly. There had been no dramatic exchange, no dramatic back-and-forth between the fighters, just one boy dodging, moving with a calmness that didn’t match his nervous expression, and then landing a few clean strikes. At least, that’s all the crowd had been able to see.
What they didn’t understand was that every single one of Joe’s hits had been perfect. Clean. Direct. Measured. He hadn’t thrown wild punches, and he hadn’t wasted energy.
And more importantly, he had hit Ryan with his bare hands, unwrapped, unprotected. Most people, if they punched someone like that without wraps or gloves, would break their wrist or knuckles instantly. But Joe wasn’t like most people.
Part of his training, part of the foundation of who he was, involved reinforcing his body. Training until his hands were as solid as weapons, capable of striking without breaking. His fists weren’t simply fists, they were another layer of his skill, another reminder of why Joe was someone no one should underestimate.
"Erghhh, will someone help me out of here?" Joe groaned, wobbling a little as he moved to the edge of the pit. "The match is over, right?"
He reached upward, and immediately a hand reached down toward him.
Wolf.
Joe bent his knees, leapt up, and Wolf caught him by the arm, pulling him out of the sunken arena with ease. The two of them walked off together, moving past the stunned crowd still frozen in disbelief.
"You did a good job, kid," Wolf said with a rare smile. "You shut all these idiots up."
Finally, the realization of what had happened began to sink in for the spectators. The shock faded, and the complaints burst out all at once.
"What was that? Did we get scammed?"
"I seriously think we did! That young kid shouldn’t have won. It was meant to be an easy win! What the heck is going on here?"
"Hey, I made a lot of money, so I’m happy!" another person shouted, earning a few annoyed looks.
The energy shifted, shock into frustration, frustration into theories, theories into more arguing. But before the crowd could spiral too far, the giant screen changed again, flashing new faces for the next match. The organizers didn’t want them stewing, they wanted them moving on.
Two other participants appeared, and as the next match began, the tension shifted away from Joe’s upset victory. This next fight was far more even, far more balanced, and the crowd leaned forward again, getting pulled back into the excitement.
"Haha! This is great!" Chad said, practically shaking with excitement. "I actually won! That kid did better than I thought."
His grin widened as he leaned back in his VIP seat.
"I should have known. Damn Max Stern gained so much confidence in himself because he gathered so many good fighters around him. And he even hired that security company, or took over them, so if he was going to send people to this event, it was going to be the best of the best!"
Chad remembered clearly the moment he had been dragged along to watch the Billion Bloodline Group take down the Chalkline Boys and the Rejected Corps, gangs he had once been genuinely terrified of.
At the time, he’d been too distracted by everything else to notice what Joe was capable of. He had seen what Max could do, sure, but Chad had been in denial about Max’s strength for a long time. He kept telling himself the people Max fought had just been weak. That Max’s victories were exaggerated or simply lucky.
"They all look like high schoolers because they just graduated," Chad muttered to himself, nodding. "So no wonder people underestimate them. But they’re strong. Really strong. I’m going to make a fortune!"
Even though Chad had been one of the many people who underestimated Joe, even though he had forgotten that the winnings weren’t exactly going toward him, his excitement drowned out every logical thought.
He was so thrilled by the win that he even forgot to bet on the current match, but to him, that didn’t matter.
’I only have a limited amount of funds,’ Chad thought, tapping his fingers on his arm. ’And I know how strong Wolf is. I’ll just wait for the two of them to fight. When they do, I’ll bet on them!’
Chad’s smile stretched across his face, arms folded proudly, feeling, for once, like he was ahead of the world.
But across the venue, Vivian was staring at the results with narrowed eyes.
"I was wrong about that young one," she muttered, voice quiet and thoughtful. "Did I make a mistake on both of them? He’s more skilled than I imagined... but then again, he didn’t really fight anyone of significance..."
Her gaze stayed locked on the screen. Based on the rankings she had assigned to the fighters, Joe and Ryan should have been even. She had wanted the match to last long enough for the crowd to settle into the event, to give them a show strong enough to boost the energy of the room.
Instead, the fight had been over in seconds. Unexpected. Unbalanced.
Yet still impressive in its own way.
"What’s the strangest thing about all of this?" Vivian said, leaning back in her chair while an assistant stood behind her, waiting for instructions. "Is that idiot actually bet on the young kid. He was always bad at making bets, and he bet against everyone else, so it might be the same here."
She tapped her fingers against her armrest.
"Let’s keep an eye on him and see who he bets on next."
Time continued on, fight after fight taking place. Some ended quickly, others dragged on, but Chad didn’t place another bet. He simply waited, eyes glued to the screen, counting down the names until finally,
Wolf appeared on the display.