The bull stopped moving, his ragged breath coming in short, shuddering bursts. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Handy raised his hammer for one last killing blow before it fell from his hands and he staggered back, falling on his backside in exhaustion. His breathing was ragged, and he felt incredibly warm, his face flush with blood from the effort. He put his hand to his chest, not fully feeling the pain as his mind calmed down and the red mist fell from his vision. He was still on an adrenaline rush, which meant as soon as he calmed down fully, he was going to start hurting like a sumbitch. He could only hear a dull ringing noise in his ears and he was only peripherally aware of the crowd that was slowly gathering around him, his eyes on the fallen minotaur, hardly believing that he actually won that.