The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The crowd's deafening chants of "Min Jun! Min Jun!" were relentless, like war drums pounding in his ears. The harsh floodlights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the bloodstained mat.
What is this place? the protagonist thought, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. This isn't a normal fight... this whole thing feels like a nightmare.
Across the ring, Min Jun stood with the same infuriating smirk, casually spinning on his heel as if this were a warm-up. The man was showboating now, taunting him with exaggerated gestures.
"Come on," Min Jun called, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're not scared, are you? Or maybe that punch earlier was your last lucky shot."
The protagonist clenched his fists, feeling the sting of raw skin against the tape. His mind raced, replaying the bizarre events that led him here—his gym, the sudden blinding light, and now this insane underground arena where the rules of reality seemed to bend.
Why me?
The announcer's voice boomed again, dragging him out of his spiraling thoughts. "ROUND THREE—BEGIN!"
The crowd erupted, their cheers a chaotic storm that seemed to shake the very walls of the arena.
Min Jun wasted no time. He darted forward with the precision of a predator, his movements impossibly fluid. A spinning hook kick came first, his leg cutting through the air like a blade.
The protagonist barely dodged, the kick missing his face by inches. He stumbled back, the crowd roaring at the close call.
He's too fast!
Another attack followed—a series of rapid punches aimed at his torso. The blows came in a blur, forcing him to block instinctively. Each impact reverberated through his arms, the force behind them enough to make him grit his teeth in pain.
"You're nothing but a punching bag," Min Jun sneered, his fists flying in a flurry of jabs and uppercuts.
The protagonist's vision blurred as he absorbed hit after hit. His muscles screamed in protest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had never faced an opponent like this before—someone who combined raw skill with an almost supernatural speed.
I can't keep up...
But then, through the haze of pain and confusion, something clicked. He began to notice patterns—tiny openings in Min Jun's flashy moves. A slight pause before his kicks, a predictable rhythm in his punches.
He's fast, but he's not invincible.
Min Jun launched into another spinning kick, the motion so fast it seemed to blur. But this time, the protagonist was ready. He ducked low, the kick sailing over his head, and countered with a quick jab to Min Jun's ribs.
The hit connected, but it lacked power. Min Jun barely flinched, his grin widening. "You're getting braver. I like that."
The taunt only fueled the protagonist's resolve. Stay calm. Wait for the right moment.
The next exchange was brutal. Min Jun pressed his advantage, raining down a storm of strikes. The protagonist moved purely on instinct, dodging what he could and absorbing the rest. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations, searching for a way to turn the tide.
And then it happened.
Min Jun threw a high kick, aiming for his temple. The protagonist feinted left, tricking Min Jun into overcommitting. As the kick sailed harmlessly past, the protagonist surged forward, planting his feet firmly on the mat.
Now!
He twisted his torso and unleashed a powerful right hook, every ounce of his strength channeled into the punch. His knuckles crashed into Min Jun's jaw with a sickening thud.
The impact sent Min Jun staggering back, his smirk replaced by a look of genuine shock. The crowd fell silent for a split second before erupting into chaos.
The protagonist stood there, his chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through his veins. For the first time, he saw doubt in Min Jun's eyes.
But it was fleeting. Min Jun wiped the blood from his split lip, his grin returning with a dangerous edge.
"Well, well," he said, his voice low but audible above the noise. "Looks like you've got some fight in you after all."
The bell rang, signaling the end of the round.
The protagonist stumbled back to his corner, collapsing onto the stool as his legs threatened to give out. His heart pounded like a war drum, his mind a jumble of exhaustion and determination.
I landed a hit, he thought, clinging to that small victory. I can do this.
Across the ring, Min Jun rolled his shoulders, his expression calm but his movements more measured.
The protagonist could feel the tension in the air, the crowd's energy crackling like a live wire. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a battle for respect, survival, and something far bigger than himself.
As the announcer prepared to call the next round, the protagonist tightened his fists, the pain in his knuckles drowned out by his burning resolve.
This isn't over.