Two years later
Han Dae Su stood in front of the cracked mirror in his basement room, the same room that had once felt like a tomb. Now, it was a sanctuary forged by sweat, pain, and relentless willpower. The boy who had entered this prison of concrete and shadows was gone.
In his place stood a man — tall, broad-shouldered, muscles carved with sharp definition. His skin was weathered but tough, veins subtly visible beneath hardened flesh. His jaw was strong and square, framing a face marked by scars both old and new. His eyes — cold, calculating — burned with the weight of years spent in silent fury and training.
His fists, once fragile and trembling, were now weapons honed through thousands of punches thrown against walls, against bags, against fate itself.
But strength alone was only part of the change.
The ancient will of Drenval coursed through his veins like molten steel. The whispered voice that had once lingered on the edge of his mind was now a roaring presence inside him — not a stranger, but a part of himself. The two wills intertwined, each fueling the other.
Han Dae Su flexed his fingers and felt the raw power surge beneath his skin. No longer just human, he was something more — a living weapon tempered by rage and a thousand years of betrayal.
He paced the basement slowly, every movement precise and controlled. The thick concrete walls, once oppressive, now felt like a shield guarding him from a world that had turned its back.
Outside, the city moved on unaware. The ten bullies who had destroyed his life celebrated their hollow victories, ignorant of the storm growing beneath the surface.
Han Dae Su's gaze hardened as he pulled out a cracked phone from his pocket and opened a video feed — a live stream of the very people who had betrayed him, laughing, drinking, and boasting like kings.
For a moment, his lips twitched in a cold smile.
The power was no longer a flicker; it was a blaze. Every muscle, every fiber of his being was honed for one purpose — revenge.
He clenched his fist, the energy of Drenval surging through him like a living flame.
"This ends soon," he whispered, voice low and deadly.
He turned away from the mirror, stepping toward the narrow stairwell that led out of the basement — out of his prison, and into a world that had no idea what was coming.
Han Dae Su was no longer broken. He was reborn.
And the reckoning would be brutal.