John lay on the ground.
Crocodile didn't take the chance to attack.
He's a professional boxer, knows how to inflict maximum damage to John within the rules.
But Crocodile didn't.
He only left a curse, venting his dissatisfaction with mercenaries toying with the ring.
He didn't even care how John got back up.
During the referee's count of John's downed time, Crocodile's attention was on the audience.
Cameras around the ring focused on Reagan Patrick, and in the high-definition footage, Isaac Military Industry's Messiah's Eye gleamed in the dim environment.
Crocodile hardly blinked.
His European-featured face, paired with a monstrous muscular build, constantly exuded an oppressive presence.
Time was passing.
John was recovering.
Crocodile stood by the ring, slowly moving, his gaze sweeping over the faces of gamblers in the front row.
Bang.
At regular intervals, he would throw a punch, slamming hard against the alloy fence.
The audience would gasp.
