The city's heart pulsed beneath a scorching midday sun. Crowds swarmed the central plaza—a sprawling open square hemmed by glass towers and bustling shops. Vendors hawked food and trinkets; children chased pigeons. Life thrived, ignorant of the dark storm gathering.
Then, the noise snapped.
A sudden hush swept through the masses as Han Dae Su appeared at the plaza's edge—his figure cutting through the throng like a blade. Cloaked in black, muscles taut and eyes burning with cold fury, he stood alone amid thousands.
Phones lifted, cameras trained. The murmurs swelled into gasps.
The bullies' names echoed through the city's network of whispers. Word spread like wildfire.
Han Dae Su raised his voice—a low, deadly calm that reverberated off steel and stone.
"Bring me: Park Min-jae, Hwang Jin-soo, Kim Dong-hyun, Choi Seung-woo, Lee Jae-hoon, Yoon Tae-kyung, Song Hyun-woo, and Jung Hyeok."
Each name was sharp, a knife twisting in the hearts of the guilty.
The crowd trembled.
His voice cut deeper.
"If you do not bring them here by nightfall, I will kill one thousand innocent people before this day ends."
A thousand hearts skipped beats.
The plaza's chatter turned to terrified silence.
Then, to prove his power, Han Dae Su moved.
With a sudden, fluid motion, he summoned the ancient force inside him.
The ground beneath his feet cracked, splintering like shattered glass. Concrete erupted in jagged shards, flying upward in a hailstorm of destruction.
A column of raw energy—an ancient fire—burst from his palm, swirling with molten fury and lighting the sky.
People screamed and scrambled for cover.
Cameras zoomed in as the plaza shook.
Security forces spilled onto the scene, rifles raised and commands shouted.
From the nearby skyscraper rooftops, snipers trained their sights on him.
Police radios crackled urgently.
"Unknown hostile—extreme power—do not engage unless necessary!"
Yet, Han Dae Su's eyes scanned calmly, unshaken.
Bullets tore through the air in a deadly hailstorm, but he moved faster than light—dodging, weaving, untouchable.
In a blink, the plaza was a battlefield; shards of shattered pavement skittered like angry serpents.
The stunned crowd watched in frozen awe.
Inside the Government War Room
Minister Kim stared at the live feed, jaw clenched.
"This... this is beyond terrorism," he muttered, voice tight.
Beside him, General Han slammed his fist against the table. "Deploy all units. No hesitation. We bring him down tonight."
"Sir," an aide interrupted, "international news is broadcasting this. Countries are watching—some sympathetic, others alarmed."
Minister Kim's eyes narrowed. "We must control the narrative. Silence leaks, or this becomes a global crisis."
The room buzzed with tension.
The Bullies' Panic
In a fortified compound on the city's outskirts, the eight remaining bullies gathered, surrounded by armored guards.
Jung Hyeok shook visibly. "He knows all our names."
Lee Jae-hoon tried to laugh it off. "It's a bluff. Nobody can do what he just did."
Suddenly, the screens around them flickered—live footage of the plaza, Han Dae Su's fiery display etched in every pixel.
Hwang Jin-soo's face paled. "We're sitting ducks. What do we do?"
Park Min-jae, still trembling from his narrow escape, whispered, "We run, or we surrender."
The private guards tightened their grips on weapons, but even they looked uncertain.
Global Ripples
News channels worldwide scrambled to cover the story.
In Seoul, reporters spoke rapidly into cameras. "A mysterious vigilante has issued an ultimatum to the city—eight notorious criminals must be surrendered, or a massacre will follow."
In New York, analysts debated live. "Is this the rise of a new kind of threat? Or a desperate call for justice?"
In London, intelligence briefings were rushed. "Monitor the situation closely. This could destabilize regional security."
In Tokyo, social media exploded, hashtags trending from #GhostHunter to #CityUnderSiege.
Even distant governments sent coded messages—some offering support to the city's police, others quietly evacuating key personnel.
Back in the Plaza
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Han Dae Su's figure remained unmoving, a dark statue of reckoning.
The city held its breath.
Would the bullies come? Or would the ghost bring devastation?
His voice broke the silence again, low and thunderous.
"The clock is ticking."
The stage was set for a night no one would forget.