Evon's victory looked extraordinary, almost unbelievable, to anyone watching for the first time. The difference in size between him and Slob made the outcome feel like something out of a comic book. But for the regular attendees of the Black Hounds' underground events, surprising mismatches weren't new. Smaller or seemingly weaker fighters winning wasn't unheard of. The real issue tonight wasn't who won, but how the fight ended and the style in which it happened.
As Slob was lifted off the arena floor, medics rushed in with practiced speed. Sheri caught a glimpse of their tense expressions as they knelt around him, checking his jaw and trying to assess the damage.
One of the doctors raised his voice, speaking loudly so the others could hear over the crowd's murmur.
"He needs to be taken to the emergency room immediately. His jaw is completely shattered. If they don't handle this right away, he might lose the ability to speak permanently."
