Apollo walked toward the closed playground, his steps calm and measured as Hansu's words echoed in his mind.
"Training won't be efficient right now. While I'm against violence... you can spar with your friends. Just be careful, alright?"
That conversation had sparked something in him. With the month drawing to an end, Apollo needed to gauge just how far he'd come. And for that, he needed someone strong—someone real.
The park lay quiet under the soft red afterglow of the setting sun. Though unkempt, the grass shimmered with flecks of golden light, almost like glitter scattered across the earth. The playground itself was cordoned off with faded yellow tape, the swings still, the slides rusting. Nearby stood the skeletal remains of an abandoned school project, casting long shadows.
It was the perfect place for solitude—and for a fight.
As he stepped onto the grounds, Apollo immediately spotted someone sitting on one of the benches.
Jichang Kwak.
The King of Seoul sat smoking, the cigarette dangling from his fingers as he gazed into the distance.
"You know," Apollo said with a grin, walking over, "you might be graduating, but you're still too young to be smoking."
Jichang didn't respond immediately. Without even glancing at Apollo, he held out the cigarette in offering.
Apollo waved a hand. "I don't smoke."
Jichang nodded, still watching the horizon. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke.
"Why'd you call me here? We could've handled business over the phone."
Apollo shook his head. "This isn't about business." He looked at Jichang seriously. "You're the strongest person I know. That's why... I want to fight you."
Of course, Apollo knew what he was asking. If he wanted to truly test himself, there was no better opponent. Jichang wasn't just any fighter—he was the King. The top dog. And unlike the other kings, he hadn't even peaked yet.
Jichang turned, finally giving him his full attention. "You want a spar?" he asked, almost surprised.
Apollo nodded. "My strength can only grow if I fight stronger people. So—are you in?"
Jichang exhaled smoke and flicked the cigarette away. "Sure."
He stood up, and Apollo followed him toward the center of the empty parking lot.
Before Apollo could say a word, Jichang spoke again.
"Last time we met, I hadn't really trained yet. So let me warn you before we start."
Apollo raised an eyebrow.
"I've found my style now. I've gotten a lot stronger. I don't want to accidentally injure my business partner."
Apollo laughed. "You?" he said, pointing at him. "Are you underestimating me?"
Jichang didn't reply. He simply slicked his hair back and nodded once.
"Come at me, then."
"Gladly."
Apollo was the first to move. In a blur, he closed the distance and swung a roundhouse kick toward Jichang's ribs.
Jichang's brow twitched. Impressed by the speed, he responded instantly—his palms snapping upward, slicing through the air with his signature hand blades.
Apollo's eyes lit up. There they are. The famous Jichang Kwak hand blades.
But he wasn't about to get tagged by them. He wasn't Gun, who took hits just because he could.
Midair, Apollo shifted his kick and aimed instead for Jichang's temple. Without pausing, he lunged forward with a brutal knee straight for his solar plexus.
Jichang's eyes narrowed. He's not slacking off.
With a half-smile, he intercepted the knee with one palm and redirected it smoothly to the side.
Apollo flipped backward to regain distance, breathing a little heavier now.
Jichang wasn't going to be easy.
Apollo's POV
I watched him carefully. That smirk... yeah, he was definitely stronger than before.
But underestimating me? That was his first mistake.
I could try and copy his hand blades, maybe even go blow-for-blow with him. But that wasn't the point of this fight.
This was about my Taekwondo. My growth.
If I couldn't rely on my own style, how would I ever master it?
I dashed in, faking a side kick. As he raised his hands to block, I grinned. The hand blades are powerful—but they've got blind spots.
They moved linearly, covering narrow angles. If Jichang couldn't predict my strikes, they were nothing but open targets.
I shifted mid-motion into a half roundhouse aimed at his head. As he ducked under it, I knew I had him.
Got you, King.
I launched myself into the air, twisting sharply. My left leg whipped around like a hammer.
A back kick—fast, compact, and devastating.
His eyes widened in realization. He threw up his hands to block.
Boom.
My kick smashed into his palms, sending him skidding back several meters like a ragdoll. He dug his hands into the ground, skidding to a stop.
Then he smiled.
"Come at me," he said coolly.
His figure surged forward like a bullet, his movements doubling in speed. His hand arced upward, ready to strike down like a guillotine.
Then—
Hansu's words came rushing back to me.
"You know what makes traditional Taekwondo so strong?"
"It's how high we can jump... and how much torque we can generate."
I looked at Jichang charging toward me.
Jump, huh? I guess I can do that.
At the last second, I launched myself straight up.
Whoosh.
His hand slammed into the pavement where I'd just stood, cracking the concrete. His head jerked up.
"Where is he?" I heard him mutter.
Too late.
He saw me descending—twisting midair like a spinning blade.
"Dodge this!" I shouted, unleashing every ounce of torque I had.
BOOM.
Dust exploded around us as I landed the hit. Cracks spiderwebbed across the pavement.
When the dust cleared, I stood breathing heavily. Across from me, Jichang stood still—blood trickling from his temple and down his arms.
But he was smiling.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Then, in the blink of an eye—he vanished.
I saw only a blur.
Then—
Crack!
His hand appeared in front of me.
Did he just get faster...? Stronger?
...Fuck.
The real fight had just begun.
....
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