The year was 2147, and humanity had rewritten the boundaries of life and death. Technology had advanced to such a degree that reincarnation wasn't just the stuff of myths—it was a commodity. For the right price, anyone could return to life, their consciousness downloaded into a new, engineered body.
But it wasn't the wealthy politicians or corporate elites who made the biggest waves with this breakthrough. It was the martial artists. Legends like Bruce Lee, Mas Oyama, and Muhammad Ali were reborn, returning to their prime with the precision of modern technology fused into their already unparalleled skills.
They dominated the world stage, becoming not only cultural icons but the most powerful figures in this new age.
They weren't athletes anymore. They were gods.
At the heart of this world, far from the glittering arenas and holographic skyscrapers of Neo-Seoul, lay the brutal underground fight scene. Here, no rules existed but survival, and fighters gambled their lives for cash and reputation.
In this world, Ryun Mudo, a 21-year-old fighter, was trying to survive.
The gym smelled of sweat, metal, and ambition. The clang of weights and the rhythmic sound of gloves hitting heavy bags echoed through the modest space. Unlike the state-of-the-art facilities in the upper districts, Han Dae's Gym was a relic—a gritty, sweat-stained sanctuary where fighters came not for luxury but for survival. The walls were plastered with faded posters of past champions, their eyes seeming to watch over the fighters with silent judgment.
Ryun Mudo stood before a cracked mirror, his shirt clinging to his body, soaked with sweat. Each punch he threw was sharp, deliberate, but his mind wasn't on the movements. It was on the fight ahead.
"Ryun." Ji-Eun's voice broke his focus. She jogged toward him, her short hair damp with sweat, worry etched into her features. "You've heard about tonight, right?"
Ryun didn't stop, his fists still slicing through the air. "Yeah. Kwon Daehan."
"Don't 'yeah' me!" Ji-Eun planted herself in front of him, forcing him to stop. "The guy's a beast. Three knockouts in a row, and he's not just strong—he's cruel. You've seen the vids."
Ryun paused, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I've seen them."
"And?" Ji-Eun threw up her hands. "You're not worried? This isn't just some street brawl, Ryun. Kwon plays to break people. He's not—"
"Ji." Ryun's voice was calm but firm. He began wrapping his hands, his movements methodical. "I've survived worse."
Ji-Eun crossed her arms, her frustration clear. "That's not the point. One mistake and—" She stopped herself, but the words hung in the air.
"Like my dad," Ryun finished for her, his voice hard as steel. The words hung in the air like a challenge. He turned away, pulling his hoodie over his head.
Ji-Eun bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again. "You don't have to do this, you know. There are other ways—"
"There aren't," Ryun interrupted, his tone final. "I need the money. End of story."
Ryun's father, Mudo Kang, had been a fighter once, back when underground arenas were his only way to provide. He wasn't the strongest, but he was skilled—a mid-level competitor respected for his technique and grit. That respect had crumbled the night he faced Jang Minseok, a brutal martial artist from the Iron Fangs Clan.
The fight had been a massacre. Minseok's overwhelming power left Kang broken, both physically and mentally. The sight of his father, bloodied and barely conscious on the cold concrete floor of the octagon, was burned into Ryun's memory. The injuries Kang sustained that night never fully healed, and without the money to afford advanced medical care, he'd been reduced to a shadow of his former self.
Now, it was Ryun who carried the burden, working tirelessly to keep his father alive in a world that demanded strength above all else.
The underground arena wasn't just a place—it was a brutal ecosystem. Hidden beneath the sprawling streets of Neo-Seoul, it was a labyrinth of concrete corridors and neon lights, where the desperate and the bloodthirsty converged. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and cheap alcohol. Gamblers shouted over one another, waving credits as they placed their bets. Crime bosses lounged in private booths, their eyes scanning the fighters like predators sizing up prey.
Ryun arrived at the entrance, his bag slung over his shoulder. The bouncer, a hulking figure with cybernetic implants glinting under the dim light, gave him a once-over. "You're the kid fighting Kwon?"
Ryun nodded.
The bouncer snorted. "Better say your prayers."
Ryun didn't respond. He walked past, his steps steady, but his heart pounded in his chest. He walked through the narrow corridors, the muffled roar of the crowd growing louder with each step.
In the locker room, the air was tense, filled with the quiet sounds of fighters preparing for battle. Ryun sat on a bench, his hands trembling slightly as he taped his wrists. He thought of his father, bedridden and weak, and of Ji-Eun's worried face. Failure wasn't an option.
The octagon loomed ahead, its metal cage casting jagged shadows under the bright floodlights. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, hyping up the crowd.
"In the red corner, from the infamous Katsuro Clan, the undefeated beast of the lower arenas, the merciless destroyer Kwon Daehan!".
The crowd erupted as Kwon stepped into the cage, his muscular frame radiating menace. He pounded his fists together, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
"And in the blue corner, the underdog from Han Dae's Gym: Ryun Mudo!"
Ryun's legs felt like lead as he walked toward the cage. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. Focus, Ryun.
The cage door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating like a death knell. Across from him, Kwon grinned, his eyes gleaming with confidence.
The referee stepped forward, his voice steady. "Rules are simple: No weapons, no outside interference. Fight ends by knockout or surrender. Fighters, are you ready?"
Ryun nodded, his gaze locked onto Kwon's.
"Ready," Kwon growled, flexing his fists.
The bell rang.
And the fight began.