"Bleughh."
A wretched sound echoed through the jungle. A stream of vomit and blood spilled from Apollo's mouth as his body heaved and crouched. The holes in his back stung like ants crawling under his skin. His chest—once bold and strong—felt shattered. Weak.
And yet, even in that state, Apollo couldn't suppress the burning urge to improve.
Would these things happen to me if I were strong?
No.
His thoughts were clear. Direct.
"Only strength matters in this world."
That had been his motto ever since he arrived here. He had chased after one thing and one thing only: Strength.
His leaden hands clenched into fists, scraping up a handful of grass. He used it to wipe his mouth, eyes closed, breath heavy. A long exhale left his nose as he forced his body to move by sheer will alone.
"One leg..." He focused on his right foot, standing despite the tremble. "At a time."
Using a nearby tree for support—the bark cold against his burning skin—he propped himself up. His reverse eyes locked onto Hansu. Cold. Distant.
It was as if he'd forgotten Hansu was his mentor. A friend.
Something twisted within Apollo. His void-like eyes darkened—perhaps a reflection of what stirred deep inside.
Blood surged through his veins as he rose, gaze locked onto the distant silhouette of Hansu. The wind had done nothing to him. He stood untouched. Unmoved.
Apollo blinked, the stench of blood and vomit pulling at his senses. When he opened his eyes again—Hansu was gone. Only crumpled grass remained, proof that he had even stood there at all.
Apollo's eyes narrowed.
"He's coming… Iron Fortress."
His body shifted instinctively into Gongseob's stance, preparing for the inevitable.
And then it hit.
A kick—an overwhelming force—slammed into his back. His muscles screamed in agony as his body was flung through the air. Another mouthful of blood erupted from his lips, yet still, Apollo did not admit defeat.
Even with his spine creaking under the pressure, he used his body, rolled through the cold grass, and came to a halt.
As he staggered upright, another kick entered his vision. This one aimed straight for his face. Unrelenting. The air itself seemed to vibrate with pressure.
At a time like this, instinct told him to close his eyes. But that would be a disgrace to a fighter like Apollo.
So, defying instinct, he once more shifted into Gongseob's technique. The only thing keeping him conscious.
But the foot didn't care about Apollo's resolve.
It landed with a thunderous boom. The sole crushed Apollo's face. The sheer force shattered his nose—the pain sharp, immediate, and absolute.
Tears welled up—not from emotion, but from the body's own reaction. Blood spurted out in waves. His neck barely held together as his body flew backward, finally stopping only when he slammed into a tree.
Silence returned to the jungle. Hansu was a ghost—too fast to track, too powerful to defend against.
"It hurts."
Simple words. But it took every ounce of Apollo's will to form them. Every part of his body throbbed in pain. Blood soaked him. His eyes glazed over.
"I… need to improve."
A self-assured statement—but doubt soon crept in.
"But why? I don't want to break my body again and again…"
He tried to move—only for sharp pain to stab through him, threatening to bring him down.
"Why do I fight?"
He didn't even notice Hansu slowly walking toward him. His mind was too lost in its own chaos.
"I'm not even a part of this story… I'm just an outsider. So why should I try so hard?"
His eyes fluttered, barely staying open. He couldn't bring himself to rise again.
And then—
A memory.
Back on Earth.
After being kicked out of his job.
He had stood on the rooftop of a high-rise, staring at the vast city below. His head hung low, drowning in despair.
His eyes drooped—clouded from all the alcohol.
"I don't want to live like this…"
He had looked at the space between him and the ground, wondering if it would be easier to end it all.
"I can't work… I don't have any real friends… I was never happy with anything. My life's too traumatic, too pathetic to even talk about... So why not?"
...
Apollo shifted slightly.
He remembered that night—all of it.
Of course, he hadn't jumped. A sliver of hope had made him reconsider. Just the thought of a better life had been enough.
And now—
His mind shifted again. To Hansu.
The man who took him in. Who treated him like a son. A father figure he never had.
Jichang—cold but always standing by him.
Taesoo—unyielding, powerful. Someone he admired deeply.
They had stood with him.
Tears blurred his vision. He had friends now. Maybe even family.
His mind focused on a single point. A single truth:
"I used to hate myself... but this time, I don't want to."
Hansu stood just inches from him. Apollo's eyes twitched open.
"I don't want to feel like a loser anymore."
His grip on the grass tightened. Power gathered in his trembling hands.
"This time—this time, I'll protect them all."
His figure rose, shaky but tall, facing the Taekwondo legend.
"I'll be proud of myself."
A flicker of green shimmered in his reverse eyes.
Hansu paused—nearly took a step back. The hair on his arms stood on end. A chill ran down his spine.
But then—
The pressure vanished. Apollo's eyes returned to white.
Yet something had changed.
Apollo had just grown stronger.