The guard opened my dorm cell.
I stepped inside and saw Ryu training his kicks. Sweat poured off his body as if he'd just stepped out of a shower. The wall behind him was covered in countless tally marks, etched one after another.
His once scrawny frame was gone, replaced by a lean, hardened build shaped by repetition and pain.
The puppy he used to be was long gone.
You might be wondering what happened over the past three months.
Ryu was transferred to our cell after he bit off his assaulter's dick.
Why my cell specifically? No idea. Probably because it's considered the most dangerous one.
Anyway, while I was training my sambo , I lent Ryu the book
I couldn't just leave him hanging, could I?
He'd been assaulted, so yeah… I felt a bit bad for him.
And—surprise, surprise—it turned out he actually had talent for it.
"Tsk."
As the guard shut the dorm cell, Ryu kept practicing his punches, completely lost in the motion.
I walked straight toward him.
My right fist snapped toward his face—but Ryu reacted instantly, knocking it aside with the back of his left hand.
The deflection was effortless.
Before I could process it, my other fist shot forward, aimed at the same spot.
This time he ducked low and drove the heel of his palm up into my chin.
The impact launched me backward, my body crashing toward the door.
"—Oh, Yang-san?!"
Ryu's eyes widened in shock as he finally got a clear look at me. He hurried over immediately, worry replacing his combat stance.
Yes—he was strong.
Very strong.
No one in this juvie could beat him… in 1v1 except Dai of course
"I'm fine… ugh," Yang said, forcing his hand up.
Ryu caught him before he could stumble. "You're injured," he said, helping Yang back to his feet.
Yang walked over to the bed and dropped onto it.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Despite Ryu's newfound strength, Yang didn't tell him anything.
He wasn't about to repeat the same mistake—blindly relying on someone, like he did with Dai, only to get ambushed from the back
I rolled my head toward the wall, where it was covered in tally marks.
"What are those?" I asked
"Hm?" Ryu ran a finger along the grooves. "Just keeping track of my kicks so far. I've reached one thousand five hundred."
"Ah, I see… but what's the point?"
"It drills the technique into your instincts," he said calmly. "Makes it stronger ,more refined, more automatic. You should give it a try."
"Automatic?" Yang lifted his head from the bed.
Ryu nodded. "Yeah. It's like those shitty mobile games with an auto-attack button. The moment someone moves to attack you, your body responds almost instantly.... "
Yang nodded, his expression completely stoic.
"Cool."
"Wanna spar?" Ryu asked.
In an instant, Yang ripped off his blanket and hurled it at Ryu's face, obscuring his vision, then snapped two fingers straight toward his eyes.
Ryu evaded by tilting his head just enough for the blanket to slip from his face—only to see Yang's knee already rising toward his groin.
Ryu dropped his hand in time, intercepting the strike and stopping Yang's right knee mid-motion.
The moment his attack was parried, Yang drove his right foot hard onto Ryu's, drawing a scowl of pain from him.
Yang snapped his left hand back to rib level, his body coiling as his weight shifted forward.
He fired his left fist toward Ryu's chest—
—but Ryu placed his right hand on Yang's left shoulder, halting the punch completely.
"Leading with a jab to the eyes, then a direct kick to the groin so you can follow up with your left fist—predictable," Ryu said, the pain from Yang's stomp still lingering in his eyes.
"That said… I definitely didn't expect to get stomped after stopping your knee...this is my lose" he tapped on yang shoulders lightly then walked past him
Yang clenched his fists
_____________________
A day later.
We leaned against the gym walls, sweat pouring off us like we'd just stepped out of a shower. Still, looking at the progress we'd made fixing the place almost made it feel worth it.
Apparently, the owner of the reformatory promised that if we cleaned up the mess Yuzuru and Kuro left behind, he'd reward us with something.
I don't know what.
But judging by the looks of it, I'm the only one who actually cares.
Ryu's just helping me just to build his muscle.
The crater in the wall—left behind by Kuro's body slamming into it—was filled with rocks of a different color, standing out against the concrete.
The scorched circle on the floor, once burned and cracked ceramic, had been replaced entirely with fresh tiles.
I broke all the ceramic and laid foam mats over it instead.
The ground beneath the tiles we tore out was far better suited for a gym anyway.
Then while the silnce filled the room as we both caught our breathes
The sound of heavy footsteps drew closer.
Then—bang.
The door was kicked open, and a group of people poured in—thirty or more—filling the gym almost instantly.
At the front was Tarou, one arm wrapped around a tall, scrawny guy who looked visibly nervous.
I glanced at Ryu.
Ryu's expression was pure fury. Veins bulged on his forehead as he bit down hard on his lower lip.
Behind Tarou stood two familiar figures.
The fat one—Kuroi.
And the short one—Subaru.
Subaru was the same guy Yang used to bully verbally. Now he'd become Tarou's bitch and apparently ditched Masa along the way.
They were ryu former cellmates.
The same ones who assaulted him.
As if noticing us, Tarou released his grip on the scrawny guy and walked closer, arms spread wide.
"Well, well, well… the killers became friends. Who would've thought?"
He smirked. The men behind him chuckled.
He grabbed our shoulders—one hand on Ryu, the other on me.
"Leave," he ordered. "I'm not here for you two."
Ryu slapped his hand away and walked toward the entrance.
Yang, however, stayed where he was, staring at the scrawny guy Tarou had brought with him. The blue badge on the man's chest caught his eye.
Drug charges.
The guy kept scratching his blackened elbow—a mess of puncture marks from needles—digging so violently that bits of skin peeled off.
"Yang? You there?" Tarou asked.
Ryu turned back, confusion written all over his face.
"I'm staying," Yang said.
Tarou blinked, genuinely confused—and that confusion was justified.
There were more than thirty men here.
Men who would die without hesitation if Tarou gave the order.
Did he want to join them, maybe?
Yang was strong—there was no doubt about that.
In a one-on-one fight, he could defeat almost anyone here, with only a few rare exceptions.
If he unleashed everything he had, he might even bring down Ryu.
But thirty men at once?
He'd be crushed like an insect.
Hell, even if just two jumped him, he'd still be beaten badly.
Had he reached the Supreme State of Emptiness, like in those wuxia novels?
No.
He had reached the Supreme State of Foolishness.
Did Yang pity this junkie?
Maybe
But why him?
Yang had ignored countless people in situations just as miserable—worse, even.
So why this one?
The answer was simple.
His eyes.
They had lost all hope.
Completely hollow.
Drained of life.
They no longer looked human but more like a cattle's eyes: hollow, vacant, quietly accepting the fate of slaughter
It lost all it hope in a saviour
Yang has seen those eyes before
…Fuck it.
"Come again?" Tarou leaned in, cupping a hand to his ear as he moved closer to Yang.
A fatal mistake.
Yang didn't bite his ear off, unlike what Tarou had expected. Tarou had been ready to yank his head back the moment Yang moved.
Instead—
Yang's knee shot upward.
A brutal impact.
Tarou's breath vanished as the blow landed squarely in his groin, his body folding in on itself under the sudden, blinding pain.
"Ah—ahhh—aghh… Yangah~ why there?" he wheezed, gasping for air between each broken word.
Yang only shrugged. "Felt like it."
Tarou who was rolling on the ground clutching his dick shouted " why are you just standing there ? KILL HIM !"
All the men turned their gaze at yang rhen
In an instant
They came at Yang like dolls—every charge mechanical, emotionless.
No curses.
No dramatic shouting.
Just blank faces and intent.
Like there was invisible strings controlling them from above
The first in line was the dwarf.
Yang drove his kick straight into his chest, sending him falling back onto his spine.
The fat man behind him tripped over the fallen body and went down with a heavy crash.
A fist came out of nowhere and smashed into Yang's cheek.
That was the reality of fights like this.
Attacks didn't announce themselves ,they explode on you without warning. That was why no human could ever defeat a group, let alone thirty people at once.
Another punch crashed into his other cheek.
A third slammed into his stomach, blasting the air from his lungs and dropping him to his knees as he clutched his chest.
They didn't stop
They swarmed him—boots crashing down, heels grinding into his ribs, legs, and spine. Kicks and stomps rained onto his body from every direction.
He'd grown used to blows to the stomach and head by now. His body had developed a grim tolerance—but that didn't dull the pain. It only meant he stayed conscious long enough to feel every single hit.
The fat man's body came crashing into the swarm, bowling several of them over at once.
Every head snapped toward the source of the impact.
Ryu stood there, hesitation and fear written clearly across his face.
"What?" he said. "Did you forget about me?"
His words didn't match his expression. He raised his hand and beckoned them forward.
And they answered the invitation.
All of them lunged at him at once. Yang seized the leg of the man at the back of the group and lifted him high. But before the man could hit the ground, Yang swung him forward like a human lance, charging straight through the rear line.
The balance of the group was thrown into chaos. Half of them turned their heads toward him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated.
Yang took a step back, exhaling slowly as blood trickled from a slash across his left eyebrow—a wound caused when his skin had been crushed against the bone from the relentless kicks earlier. The crimson streak dripped into his eye, staining it red. Now… maybe it would be easier. Hopefully.
In the front
The man at the front lashed out with a punch aimed at Ryu's face. From the way he moved, it was clear he was the same one who had struck Yang earlier.
Without even glancing at the attacker, Ryu intercepted it effortlessly. The back of his hand deflected the punch in a single, fluid motion. In the same instant, he drove his purlicue with deadly precision into the man's throat. The impact forced him to his knees, gasping, as air refused to fill his lungs.
A man snuck up from behind and locked him in a carotid restraint.
The man Ryu had struck earlier sprang to his feet. He drove a fist into Ryu's stomach, then another guy drove his fist straight into his nose, forcing the air from his lungs in a sharp, painful rush. At the same time, Ryu instinctively lowered his head toward the attacker's bicep.
Chomp!
Ryu sank his teeth into the man's bicep and tore a large chunk from ot. The eyes of the man behind him cleared then they widened in shock and pain , staring at the missing flesh.
"Huh!? Hu—Aaaaaaaaaaah!"
Ryu spun around, driving his fist straight into the man's chin. The impact sent him collapsing to the ground instantly. Before the group of men waiting to swarm Ryu could close in from the front, he acted again.
Ryu's cheeks puffed with air, and with a sudden exhale, a spray of blood burst from his mouth this blood belongs to the remains of the bicep he had just ripped. The sight stopped the men in their tracks, if only for a moment
Then he lunged at them
On the other side, Yang was breathing heavily, pressed against the corner of the room, completely surrounded.
Being half-blind from blood in his eyes didn't help—facing ten or more opponents at once was no joke.
Every time he tried to counter, another attack came from a blind spot. There was no chance to recover, no space to maneuver.
Their coordination was flawless, almost seamless, like they anticipated each other's moves before they even struck
He was finished, and he knew it.
So he closed his eyes, accepting his fate.
The moment Yang seemed to falter, the others surged forward. One drove a fist into his stomach, another lashed at his legs with a vicious kick, and the rest landed crushing blows to his face, chest, eyes, ears, and nose—every part of his head bore the punishment.
The assault was unrelenting. The weight and precision of their strikes forced him lower and lower, until he collapsed fully to the ground on his hands and knees.
Even there, the barrage didn't stop. Fists pounded him, while boots raked across his ribs and back, each strike driving the air from his lungs and burning his muscles to the limit.
Until he finally stopped moving.
They walked away with the mechanical precision of robots.
Well… that is, until—
"Is th—cough—that… the best you've got?"
Yang hacked violently, a gush of blood spilling from his mouth as he rolled onto his back. Every movement sent knives of pain through his body, his face twisting as he struggled to breathe.
"Is… that… the… best… you've got, you pieces of shit?"
Each word came out broken, dragged along by shallow, desperate gasps.
One of them stepped forward
He loomed over Yang, staring down at his ruined face, a crooked smirk stretching across lips stained red. Blood seeped between his teeth as he grinned.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his right leg—
preparing to bring it down.
Then he stomped.
Everyone turned toward him, ready to join the others against Ryu.
"Ah ? AAAAAAAAAH!"
They snapped their heads back just in time to see the man who had volunteered to finish Yang collapsed on the ground, clutching his foot. A long, sharp object jutted out of it—its length nearly that of a machete.
What was it, you ask?
A shard of ceramic tile.
The ceramic tiles he and Ryu had spent four hours breaking off the ground , the one yang used had been carefully shaped into crude weapons. In fact, he had several hundreds of fragments with different shapes hidden across his body
Why didn't he use them sooner?
Simple.
He was waiting for the right moment to catch them off guard.
If he had thrown those frags out recklessly, they would've just raised their guard, covering their faces and rendering everything useless.
This was his chance.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, pulled out dozens of small fragments, and in the same motion hurled them straight at their faces.
But—
The result wasn't what he expected.
Even though several fragments pierced their skin, none of them flinched. They simply turned their bodies toward him, calm and deliberate, as if nothing had happened.
Yang staggered back, stunned.
How were they still... like that?
He glanced to the side. The man who had tried to stomp him earlier was still on the ground, writhing in pain until his body went limp the broken tile still lodged in his leg
Then Yang turned back to them.
Why? he asked himself.
Why were they still moving like robots—while he wasn't?
Did pain snap him back to normal? If so, nothing changed when I threw the frags…
Oh.
Yang's eyes widened, then he let out a slow sigh.
No point asking those questions now.
What mattered was getting out of here in one piece.
The men took a step closer.
He backed away until he reached the body behind him, then violently yanked the long shards out of the man's feet and then He pointed it at them
They didn't advance.
They only watched.
Why weren't they moving?
The answer was simple.
He had become a threat
a far greater one than Ryu who was now fighting for his life behind them
"What?" Yang sneered, the tile glinting in his hand as he stepped toward them. "Afraid of a little blade? Come at me."
No one moved.
Instead, they stepped back.
Yang's smile faded.
"Fine," he muttered. "Have it your way."
He lunged at them without another word.