4 chaps incoming y'all
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"Sacrifice."
"Lord, bless the shaman."
"Spray blood on the sacrifice."
A crowd had gathered near a centuries-old banyan tree, its gnarled branches sprawling outward like the fingers of some ancient god, casting shade over the entire gathering.
The area was packed to the brim—shoulder to shoulder. The stench of sweat mixed with the sickly sweet scent of incense and something darker… fervor. Frenzied, wild-eyed fervor.
The people looked rabid, their faces locked in expressions of manic devotion. They wore ornamental clothes like it was a festival, like this was something worth celebrating.
It was twisted.
It was sick.
And it felt that way to all the Kings watching from the rooftop of a nearby house, overlooking the gruesome ceremony. None of them could look away, though their minds were filled with the same question:
'Why did Apollo send us here?'
'Who is this so-called mighty opponent?'
'What are we supposed to do with this?'
Jichang Kwak narrowed his eyes. His expression remained stoic, but there was a twitch at the corner of his lips—a sign of disgust barely restrained.
He wasn't usually fazed by what this world threw at him. But what he saw in the center of the crowd… that crossed a line.
A boy.
No older than ten.
Naked. Trembling. Terrified.
Traumatized, Jichang noted, catching the vacancy in the child's gaze.
His hair hung long and unkempt, nearly covering his eyes—a telltale sign of deep neglect. Maybe even depression.
The crowd hurled insults at him, calling him a demon. Women clutched their children tightly, shielding their eyes but never their ears from the horror unfolding.
"...I don't like this," Taesoo Ma said.
It wasn't a question. It wasn't even really a statement.
It was a warning.
"Yeah," he repeated. "I really don't like this."
Jichang turned toward him. Their eyes met for a moment. He knew that look—Taesoo was about to do something.
And they weren't supposed to interfere. The world was cruel, and Jichang had long since shed the skin that cared about saving strangers.
But when Taesoo jumped off the rooftop in a single, heavy thud—
Jichang followed. No hesitation.
The moment their feet hit the ground, the entire crowd turned. At first confused. Dazed.
Then—hostile.
"They're trying to stop the ritual!" someone screamed.
And like the crack of a dam, chaos flooded the space.
"Don't let them near the shaman!" another yelled.
Jagyeon Na, who had also leapt down, glanced at Taesoo and asked with an almost amused curiosity, "There are women in the crowd. Are you gonna fight them too?"
Taesoo kept walking forward. With a shrug, he answered, "I believe in gender equality."
And his fists agreed.
Man. Woman. Teen. Even those barely old enough to stand. His strikes didn't discriminate. Each hit landed with unrelenting force, echoing with the sound of bones snapping, bodies folding, and people screaming.
Jichang moved too. A man rushed him—he thought to knock him out with a precise strike to the back of the neck.
But his body betrayed that logic.
Instead, his hand shot forward like a guillotine—shattering the man's jaw in a single blow.
Jichang stared at the collapsed body, blood pooling beneath him.
I didn't want to go easy on them, he thought, his own rage burning like a fire in his veins. But this is illogical. I should end this quickly.
Logic was Jichang's weapon of choice. But for some reason… today, he didn't want to use it.
What followed was carnage—twisted limbs, broken ligaments, shattered skulls. The once-confident crowd now cowered.
Then they ran.
Not toward the Kings.
Away from them.
More than fifty people, scattering like rats, fleeing from just two teens who had turned their self-righteous ritual into a massacre.
Taesoo stepped through the remains, stopping in front of the shaman.
The man was short, hunched, and grotesque—his beard thick, filthy, almost comically oversized. His face twisted in something between fear and confusion.
This is the one who did that to the child, Jichang thought. He turned to look at the boy again—and found a flicker of hope in the child's eyes. Light.
When the boy looked at Taesoo, it was as if salvation had come.
But reality hit him harder than any punch.
Taesoo didn't stop. Didn't even glance at him. He walked right past without offering a single hand.
The boy's hope faltered.
He turned to Jichang instead.
And for a brief moment, Jichang hesitated. He's around their age, he thought. Just like my brothers.
Should I help him?
He never got the chance to answer.
Just as Taesoo raised his fist to crush the shaman—
A hand intercepted.
It moved fast. Faster than anything they'd seen that day.
Jichang's eyes narrowed. That speed… does he also have mastery?
From behind the banyan tree, two figures emerged. Twins—tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not Korean by origin.
One of them spoke with a casual voice that belied the pressure in the air.
"You shouldn't do that, little kid."
Little kid? Is he calling Taesoo a kid? Jichang blinked in disbelief, every sense alert. The air around the twins was thick—oppressive.
Dangerous.
The other twin nodded slightly, his eyes scanning the Kings like a hawk. "So, you're the so-called First Generation everyone's been whispering about."
Jichang stepped forward, his stance calm but ready. He raised his hands in his signature pose, his voice cool and sharp.
"I don't care who you are. Or how strong you think you are. Tell us—what were you doing to that child? And why?"
Gongseob and Jagyeon finally caught up, standing behind him.
The twins exchanged glances. One of them raised an eyebrow.
For a second—just a second—he swore he saw a serpent's silhouette rising behind Jichang. Eyes vertical, venomous. Coiled power.
Only strong men cast shadows like that, the older twin thought.
But the other twin replied coldly, "You're mistaken."
"You're not strong enough to earn our answers."
And so—the battle began.