The days after the Tae-min incident passed with the strange quiet that only follows chaos.
For most of Cheongdam Middle High, it was the kind of quiet that buzzed beneath the skin—a tension that couldn't quite settle. Whispers filled every corridor, but no one dared to speak too loudly. It wasn't just about the fight anymore. It was about the boy who'd walked away from it with calm eyes and unshaken steps.
Apollo Yamazaki.
He'd become a name everyone knew but few understood.
MORNING
The sun hadn't risen yet. The air was cold enough to bite.
Apollo's breath misted as he ran through the narrow park trails, the rhythm of his shoes tapping against the earth like a metronome. His uniform jacket was tied around his waist; sweat beaded down his temples.
Each exhale came in sharp bursts timed with the motion of his fists—controlled, methodical. His movements weren't wild anymore. They were focused. He wasn't trying to imitate any martial art. He was sculpting his own.
In the stillness of dawn, his punches sounded like dull cracks through the mist.
His mind was clear, eyes half-lidded, breathing in sync with his body.
> [Skill Progress: Basic Boxing Fundamentals – 98%]
[Observation Step – Neural Sync: Stable]
[Condition: Improved recovery rate detected]
He stopped by the river, watching the faint reflection of gray light glimmer on the water. His hands were shaking—not from exhaustion, but from control. He felt every tendon move, every breath timed perfectly.
A voice echoed faintly in his head—his father's, from years ago:
> "Power's useless if you can't guide it."
Apollo finished his last combination, then sat on the bench near the river, watching the reflection of morning light scatter across the water.
Apollo wiped the sweat from his brow, muttering under his breath,
"Then I'll learn to guide it perfectly."
He threw one last combination—jab, cross, weave, uppercut—clean, fluid, sharp enough to stir the air. The sound of his knuckles slicing through wind echoed across the river.
He smiled faintly.
SCHOOL
The next morning, the atmosphere in Cheongdam Middle High felt... off.
Something unspoken hung in the air, a pressure that pressed into every classroom and hallway.
Students moved in quieter tones. Even the usual laughter seemed forced.
No one wanted to draw attention—not when they didn't know how the new hierarchy worked.
Apollo walked through the front gate calmly.
Eyes followed him.
Not with curiosity anymore—fear, maybe. Awe.
The boy who'd dropped Tae-min and fifteen others in one night walked like he didn't care about any of it.
His expression was cold.
Not angry.
Just… empty.
When the class door slid open, chatter died immediately. A group of students near the back—Tae-min's former crew—lowered their heads, the bruises on their faces still fading under concealer.
Apollo ignored them.
He took his seat near the window, gaze fixed on nothing beyond the glass. The morning light caught the faint purple hue around his knuckles. He flexed his fingers once. They didn't hurt anymore.
They remembered.
Heads turned as he passed. Conversations faltered.
Even teachers seemed to glance twice, unsure how to address him now.
> "That's him… the one who beat Tae-min."
"Fifteen people, right? He didn't even get suspended?"
"He's got something backing him, man.
[Cafeteria – Noon]
Laughter.
The kind that cuts through silence.
Han Dae-hon leaned against a table, his muscular frame towering over a trembling first-year. His uniform shirt was half-buttoned, his chain glinting under the fluorescent light. His smirk—arrogant, effortless.
"You said no to me again?" Dae-hon asked, voice almost playful.
The boy in front of him, smaller by at least two heads, shook his head rapidly, fear shaking his words. "N-No, hyung, I didn't mean—"
Thud.
Dae-hon's knee slammed into the kid's gut. He crumpled like paper, gasping on the floor. The cafeteria froze. Nobody dared to breathe.
Han Dae-hon sighed, stretching his neck. "You're lucky. I'm in a good mood today."
He turned—eyes landing on Apollo, who was passing by with a tray in hand.
For a second, their gazes locked.
Apollo's eyes didn't flinch.
They were calm—cold, detached. He didn't step in. Didn't even blink.
In his mind, a thought drifted like smoke:
If you can't survive here… you're already lost.
He walked past, the sound of footsteps echoing between the tables.
---
[Character Panel: Han Dae-hon]
Name: Han Dae-hon
Age: 14
Affiliation: Cheongdam Middle High (2nd Year)
Tier: C+
Fighting Style: Street Boxing / Taekwondo mix – Offensive Pressure
TRAINING
Later that night, Apollo was in the backyard. The moonlight spilled over him, silver and quiet. His bandaged fists hit the sandbag in perfect rhythm.
One-two. Step. Hook. Roll. Counter.
Every motion was exact—like a language written through movement.
Sweat dripped down his jaw as the System flickered faintly before his eyes.
> [Skill Upgrade: Basic Boxing Fundamentals → Advanced Boxing Fundamentals]
[Tier Increased: D+ → C-]
[Bonus Effect: Muscle Memory Optimization – 10% faster combo recovery]
His punches hit harder now—not from brute strength, but precision.
The echoes of each strike rippled through the still air.
> thud
thud
thud
With each impact, his breathing aligned perfectly—no wasted motion.
[Evening ]
The small courtyard behind the house was dimly lit. The faint scent of rain lingered on the tiles. Apollo stood there, shirt drenched in sweat, his breathing heavy but controlled. His body trembled slightly—not from exhaustion, but exhilaration.
He opened the System panel in silence.
[ SYSTEM PANEL ]
Name: Apollo Yamazaki
Age: 12
Tier: C (Stabilized)
System Level: 1
Remaining XP: 3,423
Next Level Requirement: 6,577 / 10,000
Bloodlines:
• Yamazaki – Active (34%) ↑
• ??? – Dormant (Locked – Insufficient System Level)
Attributes:
Strength – C-↑
Speed – C- ↑
Reflex – C- ↑
Stamina – C
Focus – D+
Aura – D
Skills:
Advance Boxing Fundamentals – C- (19%)
Foundation Guard – D- (55%)
Observation Step – D+(60%) ↑
Street Kick Combo – D+ (10%)
Breathing Regulation – D+ (15%) ↑
Apollo wiped his jaw and scrolled through the System Mall.
A soft digital chime hummed in the air.
> [Skill Detected: Kyokushin Karate (Beginner)]
Description: A full-contact striking art emphasizing body conditioning, internal power, and disciplined combat focus.
Cost: 2,000 XP
Proceed with Purchase?
He hesitated only a second.
> [Purchase Confirmed.]
[Installing Martial Framework…]
His body tensed.
A wave of pressure surged through his chest—heat crawling up his spine, the muscle fibers in his arms twitching as if remembering movements he'd never practiced.
His feet shifted unconsciously into stance—shoulders square, knees bent, weight centered.
He exhaled slowly, his breath sharp and clean.
The scene unfolded like film—silent, visceral.
Apollo moved through the motions, guided by something between instinct and code.
Straight punch. Elbow block. Low kick.
His breath synced with his heartbeat.
The sharp thwack of his heel striking the wooden post echoed into the night.
Each repetition burned into muscle memory. His forearms bruised against impact boards, his knuckles bled faintly—but he didn't stop.
Every hit refined him. Every strike broke the boy he was a little more.
By the tenth round, his breath came steady. His mind was cold—focused.
He didn't feel tired. He felt alive.
In the kitchen window, his mother watched quietly.
Sara's hands tightened on the dish towel, her eyes softening with worry.
"Yun… look at him," she whispered. "He's changing."
Tae-yun leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The faint scar near his brow caught the dim light.
"That's not change," he said quietly. "That's awakening."
Sara turned to him. "You sound like you expected this."
He nodded slowly. "He has my blood—and Yamazaki's. That kind of mix doesn't stay quiet forever. I'm just surprised it took twelve years."
Sara lowered her gaze, voice trembling. "He's still a child."
"He's our child," Tae-yun corrected gently. "And no matter how strong he gets, we'll stand behind him. Always."
Outside, Apollo stood under the moonlight, fists raised, eyes cold and unreadable.
The faint hum of the System flickered across his vision:
> [Kyokushin Karate – E+ → D (2%)]
[Conditioning Efficiency Increased by 8%]
[Reflex Synchronization Achieved]
He inhaled. The night air felt heavier—alive.
Somewhere deep inside, his pulse throbbed with quiet hunger.
Across the District
At the same time, in a different part of the city, laughter echoed from a cracked-walled room.
Han Dae-hon stood over a trembling student, blood dripping from the boy's nose. His expression wasn't angry—it was indifferent.
"You talk too much," Dae-hon said quietly, flicking his wrist to shake off the sting.
He stepped back, gesturing to one of his subordinates. "Clean him up."
"Boss," one of them started cautiously, "people are saying that new kid's going to challenge the whole pecking order."
Dae-hon smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Then I guess I'll have to remind everyone who owns it."
His gaze drifted toward the window, where the city lights burned low.
"Apollo, huh?" he muttered. "Sounds fun."
Han Dae-hon stood under a streetlight, hands in his pockets, smirk barely visible. "Let's see if the new king bleeds."
[Cheongdam Middle High – Next Morning]
Rumors spread faster than truth.
"Hey, did you hear? Han Dae-hon was pissed yesterday. Said he wants to see the new guy—Apollo."
"They say Tae-min's crew doesn't even come to school anymore…"
"I heard Apollo didn't even look scared."
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Apollo walked in silence, the air around him different now—sharper. Even the teachers watched him differently. The whispers didn't reach him anymore; they broke before they got close.
At the far end of the hall, Han Dae-hon leaned against the window, arms crossed, laughing with two others.
He looked up, smirk curving into something darker.
"Yamazaki, huh?"
His voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"Heard you dropped Tae-min. Let's see if that luck works twice."
Apollo didn't reply.
He didn't even look at him.
He just walked past—eyes empty, posture calm. But for a moment, as he passed, Han Dae-hon's grin faded. He felt it—the weight in that stillness. The pressure.
Like a storm that hasn't hit yet.
NIGHT
That night, under the fading moonlight, Apollo's reflection stared back at him from the mirror.
His face was calm.
His eyes—sharp, but distant.
He could barely recognize the boy who'd once hesitated to raise his fists.
He raised his knuckles, bruised and raw, and whispered to himself,
"This world doesn't wait for kindness."
He opened his eyes slowly. The reflection in his window caught his attention—dark irises glowing faintly under the streetlight's reflection.
A single message blinked in his peripheral vision.
The System glowed faintly at the edge of his vision:
> [Mission Unlocked: "Dominate Cheongdam Middle High"]
[Time Limit: 6 Months]
[Reward: +1 Tier to All Attributes | Title: King of Middle High]
[Failure: Stat Regression – Severe]
> [Mission Progress: 0.4%]
[Remaining Time: 179 Days]
His lips curved into a faint smile. "Still early," he whispered.
"Then let's begin."
The faint wind outside carried the sounds of Seoul's nightlife—the laughter, the hum of cars, the heartbeat of a city that never slept.
Author's Note
This chapter marks my first full attempt at crafting a grounded, cinematic training scene focused on realism, internal progression, and the quiet transformation of Apollo's fighting style. I wanted to capture not just the physical act of combat, but the psychological shift — the tension between instinct and control, between the bloodline that pushes him forward and the discipline that keeps him from falling into chaos.
If any part of the fight mechanics, pacing, or internal narration feels off — too sudden, too technical, or lacking emotional texture — I'd love to hear your thoughts. My goal is to make Apollo's growth believable: not through power-ups or shortcuts, but through moments that feel earned, painful, and precise.
This series is still in its shaping phase, and every bit of feedback helps refine the tone, flow, and depth of the world around Apollo Yamazaki.
Thank you for reading, supporting, and helping this story evolve. Each chapter is a step toward building a realistic, emotional, and intense Lookism-inspired universe — one where every punch, breath, and decision carries weight.