The cheers of the men encouraging two boxers engaged in a fierce exchange of blows in the ring could be heard.
One of the fighters landed a powerful uppercut to his opponent's jaw, who fell backward, defeated, staring blankly at the ceiling light. In the background, the referee could be heard announcing that he was beginning the count to 10 to determine the fighter's defeat.
In one corner of the room, an elegantly dressed man witnessed the fighter's defeat and, at the same time, the celebration of a large group of spectators, many of whom rushed to claim their betting prizes.
The man made his way to the locker room and encountered a boxer: red shorts, white gloves, dark skin, and a robust body.
The boxer looks at the man and smiles.
"How do you see it, Hector?" asked the boxer enthusiastically. "Today I'm sure I'll break out of this losing streak, I promise you!"
"I don't know, Gorgo... I think it'll be tough," replies Hector, watching his partner throw enthusiastic punches into the air.
"You're going to fight a promising youngster," Hector says. "That brat has a streak of 11 straight wins..."
"Ha, ha, ha... My streak is longer, I have 14..." he replies with a smile.
"14 losses, you bastard!" Hector laughs.
"It doesn't matter..." I assure you I'll win and we'll take home a lot of money. Remember to bet well, buddy," Gorgo says excitedly.
"Yes or no, buddy," Hector replies.
Hector remains silent, not knowing what to say.
"What encouragement you give me... How can I not win with that spirit?" the boxer replies ironically.
"Well, I'm sorry... How could I doubt you, my friend?" Héctor replies, changing his expression.
"That's the attitude! That Richarzon won't know what hit him!" says Gorgo enthusiastically, jumping up and down, warming up.
A man peeks in the door and tells the pair that the fight will start in four minutes. Hector shows his concern again, which Gorgo quickly notices and says:
"Trust me, Hector! We're going to win, and then you'll be able to pay those bills without having to sell anything!" Gorgo exclaims with a big smile.
Hector lets out a sigh full of doubt, not knowing what to think.
Gorgo leaves the locker room jumping and throwing punches in the air, keeping the excitement alive. As he walks through the door and feels the ring lights on his face, he notices that people are watching him without enthusiasm; no one is shouting to support him.
He is just a loser facing a promising young fighter.
Richarzon, a young man of just 22 who had crushed the most important fighters who had ever stepped into the ring: eleven wins and no losses, a magnificent debut.
Gorgo, on the other hand, had a long history: 21 wins and 36 losses, accumulated over 17 years of fighting.
Over the past year, Gorgo had gone through a bitter streak: fourteen losses in a row. Now, at 37, he was more eager than ever to beat the star of the moment.
"Has the cat got your tongue?" Gorgo wondered silently, looking at the faces watching him in silence, his motivational steps becoming slower and slower.
Everything was becoming uncomfortable. He climbed into the ring, stood in a corner, and looked Richarzon in the eye. Richarzon greeted him kindly with a nod.
The greeting eased Gorgo's nerves, and he responded by raising his fist: they were not enemies, they were rivals of the moment.
Hector stood behind his teammate, right at the edge of the ring. He gave him a silent pat on the back.
The fighter exhaled a nervous breath and then smiled, hiding behind an emotional mask.
Everyone watched as the referee entered the ring and called the fighters.
Richarzon and Gorgo stood face to face in the center of the ring. At the referee's command, they bumped fists as a sign of respect. Then they took a few steps back to their respective corners and raised their fists, ready to start the fight.
"Gentlemen and beggars... Ladies and women... At this very moment, we are about to witness the last fight of our glorious night," announced the presenter from the betting booth.
"Today, the two best in what they do are facing each other... In the right corner, with 11 wins since his debut and no losses, Richarzon Klade..."
"Best at what we do? Damn you... you're going to..."
"...and in our left corner, with 21 wins, 36 losses, and currently going through a terrible streak of 14 consecutive losses, THE GREAT GORGO GARILLA," exclaims the announcer, and after those words, the audience bursts into laughter.
"Damn bastards... you're going to pay for this! I'm going to show you who's going to win tonight, today I'm going to break that streak...!"
Gorgo prepares to fight, frowning with annoyance. Richarzon takes a strange stance, the young man standing straight, but his arms positioned as if the fight were a martial arts match.
"Now I understand why they paint him as a promising horse... the boy knows how to do more than just boxing..." Gorgo mutters under his breath.
The three bell rings resound, signaling the start of the fight. Richarzon takes the initiative and takes a light leap forward, feigning a kick.
"This is boxing, he won't do it..." thinks Gorgo, unperturbed by his opponent's action.
The young man quickly throws his foot back, kicking the ground and gaining momentum to his left. He takes advantage of the vulnerable angle that Gorgo had left exposed and connects a swift left hook to the veteran's ribs.
Gorgo winces at the impact and opens his eyes in surprise.
Richarzon is incredibly agile and precise...
If that punch had gone to my face, it would have surely knocked me out with a single blow, he thinks with concern.
A second punch comes, but it is blocked by one of Gorgo's arms. At that moment, Richarzon throws a flurry of punches at his opponent's guard, forcing Gorgo to keep his arms steady.
"Why are you only hitting my arms?" Gorgo wonders, only to see his opponent lean to the right and raise his foot again. "Again?"
But instead of feinting or moving strangely, Richarzon stretches his foot back, using it as a guide to turn halfway away from Gorgo and turn his back on him.
With his back exposed, Gorgo tries to hit him with his left fist, but the young man quickly turns again, hitting the right side of the glove, easily deflecting the fist's trajectory, and with his other arm, lands a blow right on Gorgo's nose.
The crowd cheered enthusiastically at Richarzon's success, but suddenly he was hit with incredible force on the cheek. The impact was so intense that it knocked him to the ground.
Gorgo had thrown a punch with his left hand, but Richarzon deflected it and responded quickly. However, Gorgo did not back down at any point. The crowd's fanaticism distracted Richarzon for a millisecond, and Gorgo had his right fist available at that moment. The man is not so clever or skilled as to calculate a blow in milliseconds, but the counterattack was a very timely coincidence."
The silence of the crowd came abruptly. Richarzon got up from the ground, clutching his face and staring at Gorgo with a trembling gaze. His face hurt a lot.
On the other hand, Gorgo felt discomfort in his nose, a drop of blood flowing from his nostril, but nothing more than that.
"He's skilled and talented, he's strong and very fast..." Gorgo thought with a hungry look, raising his fist again to deliver a second blow.
Richarzon jumped back to dodge his opponent, but Gorgo stamped his foot on the ground, leaning his body forward and cornering him against the ropes. The young man tried to slip away to the left, but Gorgo managed to land a strong blow to the center of his stomach, just before he could get to safety.
The impact sent the young man bouncing off the ropes, leaving him open for a third blow that sent him flying to the side of the ring. The crowd cheered the fighter on, which spurred Gorgo on, filling him with powerful determination.
<< A stroke of luck gave Gorgo a slight advantage, but the external encouragement charged his emotions to the max. >>
―... but even so, I hit harder... ―Gorgo finished his thoughts, stamping his foot firmly, causing a small vibration in the sand, and raising his fist for the fourth time.
His eyes burned with a newfound fire and a crooked smile, and he threw the punch with full force. Richarzon raised his arms, ready to block the blow, but the impact numbed his arms and sent him flying into a corner of the ring. Gorgo's punches treated Richarzon like paper.
<< In his 14 defeats, Gorgo had never been able to land a single blow. Despite being excessively strong, he was very slow and predictable. But with past training and the need to break out of his embarrassing streak, he corrected that flaw with tactical analysis, something a brute like him could hardly comprehend. >>
The knuckles of Gorgo's left fist caressed the floor of the ring on its way up with a sudden rise in height, connecting with an uppercut just below Richarzon's jaw, slowly lifting him up and dragging him to the heights.
The young man landed on his back outside the ring, his gaze clouded.
The referee descended from the ring and stood next to Richarzon, beginning the mandatory count.
"One... two... three... four..." Gorgo swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on his opponent's motionless body.
"Five... six... seven..." The entire audience erupted in shouts, begging Richarzon to get up.
"Eight... nine... ten."
Richarzon did not react. He was unconscious. The referee raised Gorgo's arm and declared him the winner.
Gorgo's eyes lit up like never before. He raised his arms to the sky, overwhelmed with emotion.
I did it...