The dim light of the lamp filled Jeok Ryeong's apartment, softly reflecting on the wood of his red guitar with a purple spiderweb design. Sitting in a chair next to the window, with the city sprawling like a mosaic of lights in the distance, Jeok moved his fingers over the strings with slow, contemplative motions. The melody that emerged was introspective, as if each note were an unanswered question.
As he played, his thoughts returned to the confrontation with Sungnam. The blows, the techniques, the intensity of the fight. He had come out victorious, yes, but he knew something was missing. Something that could make a difference in the challenges to come.
"My technique is improving," he thought, as his fingers resonated on a low, melancholic note. "But... there's something else. Something I need to reach another level."
He closed his eyes, letting the music envelop him as his mind explored possibilities. Was it strength? Was it speed? Was it something he hadn't discovered within himself yet?
For a moment, he stopped playing and looked at the open pages of his Ryeong Style notebook. His gaze fixed on the words written in his own handwriting, while his palm rested on the warm wood of the guitar. "If I want to be stronger... I need more than just punches and technique. But how do I find that?"
Jeok began to play again, this time a faster sequence, as if the urgency of his thoughts was reflected in the music. The notes seemed to fill the silence of the apartment with new energy, a promise of discovery.
It was a moment of calm before what would surely be a next step towards evolution. Jeok knew that, even if the answers didn't come immediately, this time of reflection was essential.
The apartment was silent except for the soft notes Jeok Ryeong played on his red guitar with a purple spiderweb design. The music filled the space with a sense of introspection, while the protagonist's fingers traced the strings with slow, precise, almost melancholic movement. His mind was still trapped in the memory of his confrontation with Sungnam. Despite having won, he knew he had reached his limit, and something inside him sought a way to surpass what he had considered his ceiling.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his meditation. Jeok set the guitar aside, stood up, and opened the door. The collectors looked at him with stern expressions, as always. There were three men, dressed in dark clothes with eyes that left no space for sympathy.
—Money —said one of them bluntly, extending his hand.
Jeok nodded silently. He moved toward a table where he kept the cash for moments like this, and handed them the agreed amount. As he did, his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the improvements he needed.
One of the collectors, more thoughtful than the others, sighed as he counted the money. —Look, kid, we don't like you. But you're paying, so I'll warn you of something... You might die with your next opponent.
Jeok, intrigued, furrowed his brow slightly. —Why do you say that? —he asked.
The collector looked at him for a moment before replying: —The next one you'll face is a swordsman. A guy who has killed before. You haven't crossed that line yet, you're not like him. So, if you're going to fight, leave some money saved. We don't want to be short if you get killed.
The other two men let out short, rough laughs, while the first pocketed the money. Without further words, they left the apartment, closing the door behind them and leaving Jeok alone with his thoughts.
After the collectors left, the apartment was silent once more. Jeok, sitting in front of his guitar, tried to play it to calm himself, but his hands trembled slightly. The notes that usually flowed easily now were erratic, as if his own unease was reflected in the music.
"Kill..." That word echoed in his mind like an unstoppable echo. Although he had fought in countless battles, he had always considered his fighting a way to demonstrate strength, not a path to unreturnable violence. Now, the thought of facing someone who had crossed that line forced him to question his own identity as a fighter.
The guitar became his escape, but also a reflection of his internal state. Melancholic melodies seemed to drag him into a depth that unsettled him. "What would I do if I were in that situation?" he wondered, as the strings emitted a tone that seemed on the verge of breaking.
The warning not only made him reflect on physical danger, but also on emotional peril. Would he be able to face someone who fought with the intent to kill without losing himself in the process? Would his skill, strength, and technique be enough to stay on the side he considered right?
Jeok paused for a moment, setting the guitar aside. With his gaze fixed on the ceiling, he allowed himself to acknowledge the fear and uncertainty that invaded him. It was not simply the fear of losing the fight, but the possibility of losing something more important: his essence.
But among all those questions and doubts, there was a spark of resolve. Despite the weight of the warning, Jeok knew he couldn't run away. Fighting was part of who he was, and this challenge, as terrifying as it was, would also be so. "Maybe this is the moment I discover what I truly am," he thought, as he took up the guitar again and allowed the notes to become his way of processing emotions.
....
Finally, the day arrived. Jeok Ryeong was in the ring, the air thick with tension and anticipation. The murmurs of the crowd were a constant hum, but for Jeok, everything was secondary. His mind was fixed on the rival he was about to face.
On the other side of the ring appeared Rengai Ittō, a swordsman shrouded in an aura of absolute danger. His slender body was covered by a dark coat that brushed the floor, and a sheathed sword hung from his belt. But what troubled Jeok most was his opponent's face.
His eyes were sharp, as if they were blades capable of cutting even before drawing his sword. There was an intensity in his gaze, a combination of deadly focus and a twisted enjoyment of violence. However, the most disturbing thing was his smile. Insane, wide, as if he were already celebrating a victory that had not yet been achieved.
Rengai tilted his head slightly, his smile growing as his eyes fixed on Jeok. —Are you ready to cross that line, kid? —he asked in a deep but mocking voice, letting the words resonate in the silence of the moment.
Jeok Ryeong inhaled deeply, feeling the energy of the ring and the weight of the challenge ahead.
He adopted his Posture, with his feet firmly planted on the ground, his weight evenly distributed. His torso remained slightly leaning forward, while his arms moved in slow, controlled circles, with open palms, ready to react. His movements were unpredictable, designed to confuse and make it difficult for the opponent to read him.
Opposite him, Rengai Ittō, the swordsman with the insane smile, had already drawn his weapon. The blade reflected the light, vibrating slightly with the pulse of its user. But what was most unsettling was his piercing gaze, a deadly focus mixed with a twisted grin, as if already reveling in the upcoming violence.
The referee lowered his hand, signaling the start of the match.
Rengai didn't wait. As soon as the signal was given, he lunged toward Jeok with brutal speed. His movement had no hesitation or wasted space: it was a precise attack, meant to cut.
Feeling the danger, Jeok reacted instantly. His body moved with agility, trying to dodge the edge heading toward him. He jumped aside, leaning his torso to avoid the blow, but the speed of the swordsman was inhuman.
A sudden burning shot through Jeok's side. Looking quickly, he saw the cut in his shirt and a red line on his skin. It wasn't a deep wound, but the sensation was enough to remind him this was no ordinary fight.
Rengai, with his grin still intact, spun the sword and adjusted his stance to continue attacking. —You're not fast enough, kid —he muttered mockingly, his eyes full of expectation.
Jeok exhaled, feeling the burn of the wound. He couldn't waste time in pain. If he kept evading without a clear plan, he would soon be cornered.
Rengai Ittō advanced relentlessly, his body moving with terrifying fluidity. His sword sliced through the air with surgical precision, drawing lines of death in every downward arc. Each movement was sharp, without waste, without hesitation.
The first thrust was quick, a horizontal slash aimed at Jeok's torso. Seeing the blade shimmer under the ring's light, Jeok reacted instantly. His body spun sharply to the right, avoiding allowing the blade to fully open his abdomen, but felt the fabric of his shirt tear and a burning sensation in his skin.
Rengai didn't give him space to breathe. His right arm spun like a spiral, driving the sword in an upward slash from below, seeking to perforate Jeok's side. The protagonist, with sharp reflexes, retreated a step and raised his forearm in an attempt to deflect the trajectory. The blade brushed past, leaving a clean cut on his skin, blood instantly pouring out.
Jeok clenched his jaw, feeling the burning of the wounds accumulating. In an attempt to regain control, he spun on his own axis, trying to surround Rengai and change the angle of attack, but the swordsman had already anticipated the move. With an insane smile, he spun his wrist and launched a diagonal downward slash, forcing Jeok to dodge at the last second with a lateral jump.
Jeok's movements were quick, fluid, but each evasion left a red mark on his skin. His style, based on redirection and precision, reached its limit against a rival who attacked not as a fighter, but as an executioner.
Rengai barely panted, enjoying the dominance he had over the fight. —How much longer are you going to dance, kid? —he said with a mocking tone, before launching a flurry of quick cuts, forcing Jeok to move nonstop.
Feeling the real danger of each attack, Jeok was forced to think quickly. "I can't keep doing this... if I keep just dodging, he's going to cut me until I can't move anymore. I need another strategy."
The edge of Rengai Ittō's sword descended in a diagonal slash, seeking to mercilessly open Jeok Ryeong. The air vibrated with the speed of the attack, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down.
Then, it happened.
Jeok's eyes shone with pink flashes, an absolute synchronization of his body and mind. At the moment the slash was about to hit him, his right palm moved with impossible precision. It struck the blade with the base of his hand, deflecting it with a dry impact that resonated through the ring.
Seizing the opening, Jeok leaned in and launched a direct kick to Rengai's liver. The swordsman felt the deep blow to his torso, his balance teetering for the first time in the fight.
Without letting the opponent recover, Jeok advanced. His palms became weapons of pressure, forcefully hitting Rengai's chest in a fierce attack. His left palm struck the swordsman's right shoulder, shaking his structure. His right followed with another blow to the opposite shoulder, like a continuous hammering, disorienting his enemy.
But Rengai was not someone who fell easily. With a smile reflecting a mix of fury and satisfaction, he reacted with inhuman speed. His sword spun in a short, precise arc.
The blade quickly cut Jeok's side.
The burning of the cut ran through his skin like fire, blood spilling instantly. Jeok clenched his jaw, feeling the burn spreading through his body. Rengai tilted his head, with his smile still intact. —Well, well… it seems you're finally waking up.
Feeling the vibration of his own body, Jeok knew this fight was just beginning.
Rengai Ittō, still with his insane smile, launched a fierce attack. His sword cut the air with rapid, precise movements, seeking to open new wounds in Jeok Ryeong.
But Jeok, with his synchronization activated, saw the attacks with a different clarity. Every blow, every move of the swordsman, seemed more defined, more anticipatable. His palms moved with flawless precision, deflecting the cuts with a dry impact at the base of the blade.
Rengai attempted a sideline slash, but Jeok turned his torso, letting the blade pass within centimeters of his skin without touching him. At the same moment, Jeok saw the opening and launched a quick palm strike to the side of the swordsman, shaking his balance momentarily.
—Not so easy —Jeok murmured, maintaining his fluid stance.
Rengai, without losing momentum, spun on his own axis and launched a brutal downward slash. Jeok ducked into a perfect dodge, feeling the breeze of the blade pass over his head.
Without wasting time, Jeok countered with a flurry of palm strikes, impacting the torso and shoulders of his enemy with calculated precision. Each impact generated a vibration in the swordsman's body, building pressure on key points. Additionally, Jeok's palms left burning marks on Rengai's skin, small red, fiery burns that seemed to fuel his aggression. The pain was sharp, as if thousands of needles pierced his epidermis, making his skin redden and burn with each hit.
But Rengai was an relentless fighter. With a quick movement, he changed the angle of his sword and launched a surprising slash. Jeok barely had time to deflect the attack, but still felt the blade scrape his forearm, leaving another red line on his skin, accompanied by a sharp burning that made him shiver.
The battle was becoming a duel of reflexes and endurance. Jeok had the advantage in technique, but Rengai had the experience of an assassin. Each second that passed, the margin for error grew smaller, and the palm strikes, besides marking his skin, left a persistent burning, adding to fatigue and tension of the fight.
Rengai Ittō, with his twisted smile still present, stopped his attack for a moment. His expression changed. The insane glint in his eyes intensified, but this time, something more emerged in his gaze. A blue aura began to emanate from his eyes, as if his very presence was becoming intangible.
Jeok Ryeong felt a chill run down his back. Something had changed.
Then, Rengai's sword disappeared from his field of vision.
Before Jeok could react, he felt the first slash. A sharp, piercing burn appeared on his right arm, but when he looked, he had already received another on his side. His body barely responded when he felt a third cut on his collarbone.
It was impossible to keep up.
Rengai had not only become faster—his movements now surpassed the threshold of normal speed. Each attack was chained with such precision that his figure seemed blurred, almost unreal. The cuts did not come from a single side, but from all directions at once.
Jeok tried to react, moving his palms to deflect the blade, but even his pink synchronization couldn't keep up. Every time he tried to block a slash, another had already landed somewhere else on his body.
The crowd watched in awe and absolute tension. Jeok retreated, breathing rapidly, his clothes torn, his skin marked with bleeding cuts.
Rengai, with his glowing blue eyes, slightly tilted his head, enjoying his opponent's expression. —You can't keep up, huh? —he whispered, his voice almost ethereal.
Jeok clenched his teeth. His body burned, but his mind remained active. He couldn't keep dodging without a strategy. He had to find a way to slow down the swordsman before it was too late.
Rengai Ittō, with his aura blazing intensely, moved at an almost unreal speed. Jeok Ryeong tried to follow his movements, but his pink synchronization faded little by little. Fatigue, the cuts, the relentless rhythm of the battle... all accumulated in his body.
And then, the final blow fell.
Rengai's sword traced a fierce downward slash, carving the first line across Jeok's chest. Before the protagonist could react, the swordsman spun his wrist with lethal precision and executed a second slash in the opposite direction.
A cross of blood marked Jeok's skin.
His body trembled for an instant, and the pink flash in his eyes suddenly went out. The impact of the attack shook him from within, as if the very energy of his body had been torn away.
Jeok's breath caught for a moment, his vision blurring. His legs lost strength, and slowly, he fell to his knees.
Then, his body collapsed on the ground, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. Blood stained the ring's floor, tinting it with a dark, oppressive hue.
Rengai, with his smile still present, lowered his sword calmly and watched the protagonist. —You have talent, kid... but you're not ready for this league yet.
The audience held their breath. The silence was absolute.
Jeok, with his blurry vision, could barely hear the murmurs around him. His body was numb, unable to react.
This was not just a fight. It was his first step into the abyss.
Jeok's breathing became erratic, his body heavy and numb from the pain. His vision was a whirlwind of diffuse lights and shadows mixing into an oppressive fog. His chest rose and fell with difficulty, each inhalation a battle against the abyss. The cold floor beneath his body reminded him of the cruel reality: he was on the brink of defeat.
But then, amid the pain and desperation, a thought slipped into his mind: "If I stay here, I die."
Fear turned into fire. The certainty of his fragility transformed into conviction. His heart pumped with renewed intensity, as if the blood in his body rejected defeat itself. He was not going to fall here. Not yet.
His body trembled as he managed to stand, every fiber screaming with effort. Blood covered his skin, slowly dripping from his wounds, but his eyes... his eyes were no longer the same.
The pupils contracted until they became thin, predatory. His iris took on an intense glow, a living shimmer, full of intent. Complex patterns of fine lines and curves began to form in his eyes, weaving like a perfect net in constant motion.
The battlefield changed in his vision. The chaotic became structured. The possible paths of Rengai appeared, marked by invisible arrows that only he could see. He knew exactly where to move, how to attack, how to win.
Rengai lowered his sword calmly, observing him with a spark of interest in his gaze. —Interesting… Let's see what you do with that.
The crowd held their breath. The tension on the ring was absolute. Jeok, covered in blood, with eyes shining like something supernatural, inhaled deeply and took the first step toward victory.