The gym was now silent. The deafening noise of the crowd still echoed in Lucas's ears, but he couldn't think of anything other than what had just happened. **Rodrigão** was on the ground, the doctors around him, trying to revive him. The giant had seemed so invincible minutes before, and now, there he was, destroyed. And it was **Lucas** who had knocked him down.
Sweat was still dripping
from his face, mixing with the blood that was running from the cut above his left eye. Each breath was a victory and, at the same time, a searing pain in his broken ribs. **Mr. Zeca**, by his side, held the young champion's arm high, announcing the victory for all to see. The smile on his face said it all: he knew how much Lucas had fought to get there.
" **You were awesome, kid**," Mr. Zeca said, still holding his arm. — **Showed everyone who's boss in this ring.**
Lucas tried to smile back, but all he could do was breathe. The lights in the gym seemed brighter now, burning his eyes. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and with it came the pain. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the crowd. The noise of voices, the muffled sound of applause, everything seemed distant, as if he were submerged in an ocean of indistinct sounds.
And then, amidst the crowd, he saw the person who mattered most. **Dona Maria**, his mother, was standing near the entrance, holding a small leather bag. Her eyes were wet with tears, her face tired and aged by the hard life, but with a glow of pride that Lucas had never seen before. He wanted to run to her, hug her, tell her that now everything was going to change, that their lives were finally going to get better.
But instead, he fell to his knees.
The world around him spun. His body finally gave in to exhaustion. The lights became a blur and the voices grew distant, until they disappeared completely.
---
Lucas opened his eyes and found a white, stained ceiling. The unmistakable smell of a hospital invaded his nostrils, his jaw still ached, and his head throbbed with pain. He tried to move, but a wave of pain made him groan.
— **Stay still, champ,** — said Seu Zeca, who was sitting next to the bed, with his arms crossed. — **You're in the hospital. You broke a few ribs, but nothing that some rest can't cure.**
Lucas blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened. The fight. Rodrigão. The victory. The fainting. He touched the side of his face and felt the stitches on his eyebrow, the swelling around his eye. He was destroyed, but he had won.
— **How long did I sleep?** — he asked, his voice hoarse and tired.
— **Three days**, — replied Seu Zeca, with a tired smile. — **I thought you wouldn't wake up. But you're tough, kid. Iron Fist, aren't you?**
Lucas smiled, but soon stopped because of the pain in his face. The nickname seemed to have another meaning now. He had always been called "Iron Fist" because of the strength of his blows, but now he felt that he also had an iron heart and mind. He had resisted. He fought against someone bigger, stronger. And he won.
— **My mother…** — Lucas tried to sit up, but Seu Zeca stopped him, placing his hand on his chest.
— **Calm down, calm down. She's fine. She was here until yesterday. She went home to get some things. You scared her, but now that you're awake, everything will be fine.**
Lucas relaxed, closing his eyes. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but another quickly took its place. He knew that beating Rodrigão was just the beginning. The boxing world was not an easy place, and now that he had gained some attention, more eyes would be on him. More rivals. More challenges.
"**What about Rodrigão?"** — Lucas asked hesitantly.
Seu Zeca grimaced, looking at his hands for a moment before answering.
"**Okay… I mean, they're taking care of him. He had a serious concussion. You hit him right in the jaw, kid. I don't know if he'll be fighting again any time soon."**
The news shook Lucas. He knew boxing was brutal, that every punch had a price, but the idea of having hurt someone to the point of being forced out of the sport made something turn in his stomach. He had fought to win, to survive in that ring, but now, for the first time, he wondered how much that cost. Not only to him, but to his opponents as well.
"**You did what you had to do**," said Seu Zeca, as if reading the boy's thoughts. — **That's the price we pay, Lucas. Every victory has a cost. But you're fighting for something bigger, aren't you?**
Lucas nodded, speechless. His coach was right. He wasn't fighting just for glory or fame. He was fighting for his family, for a chance to escape poverty, for something that could change his life. But that didn't make the weight any easier to carry.
— **Rest, kid**, — Seu Zeca said, standing up and stretching his back. — **There's some people wanting to talk to you tomorrow. Promoters, sponsors,