Just as the despair of the kings' situation was settling in, loud sounds erupted from every direction.
The roar of engines came first. From the east, hundreds of figures appeared, riding motorcycles in tight formation. Their headlights cut through the night, their laughter booming as if they already owned the streets.
Then the west lit up—the glare of van headlights flooding the area. Tens of vans rolled in, led by an expensive-looking Jeep at the front, its glossy paint reflecting the city lights like a warning.
From the north and south, more shadows emerged. At least 200 men from each side poured in, their footsteps and shouts rumbling like thunder.
Following the vans, the west lit up even more with tens of different expensive-looking cars, led by a golden Spirra, it's paint glowing and shining through the night.
Within moments, Zean, his lieutenants—Jung Hwan Do and Lee Han—and the executives from Gwangju, Suncheon, and Mokpo found themselves completely surrounded.
The night air grew heavy. Even the streetlights seemed to dim under the weight of the gathering.
---
[At the Same Time in Suncheon, near the safe house where Mia and the families of Zean's circle members were kept]
Joo Il Nam and his men stood in the middle of hundreds of men, though their bodies had long ago reached their limits, none of them showed weakness or any hints of despair.
Il Nam smiled a bitter smile. He had been fighting nonstop, holding off Yeosu's forces with only eighty men while the rest defended Gwangju. Somehow, he had succeeded. Yeosu's forces were defeated , their wills broken while Suncheon stood.
But victory turned to ash when fresh forces surged in. Gwangyang, Boseong, and Goheung arrived together, their forces outnumbering his exhausted men several times over.
The three kings themselves stepped forward, their mere presence so oppressive that even their own subordinates took a step back.
Il Nam straightened, smirk tugging at his lips despite his battered body. "Did you perhaps come here to pledge your loyalty to young master Zean?" He simply asked.
A question that made the three kings present smile in amusement.
"You talk funny for someone who should have completely despaired by now... this makes me curious about your so-called 'young master'." Boseong's king sneered as he approached, his voice calm but cutting.
"He's been going around capturing different territories with such ease that makes it seem as though he isn't a normal king..." He said.
Il Nam chuckled darkly. "That's because He isn't a king at all… that's why."
The kings frowned.
"If kings follow the 0th gen people to gain benefits, then he is the one who creates and gives those benefits."
"If you guys get comfortable ruling a single region that's close to where you stay, then he rules many regions that are spread out..." Il Nam said, before stopping to think for a moment.
"Makes him seem more like an emperor than a king, doesn't it? Or am I the only one who can see that?" Il Nam finished speaking and waited for the kings' reply.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, laughter exploded.
"You think ruling more regions makes him stronger?" scoffed the king of Gwangyang.
"The reason kings rule one region is because it's sustainable. Control. Efficiency." Goheung's king added with a grin.
"And you call him an 'emperor'? For ruling a few regions? What arrogance."
"i haven't had a good laugh like this since ages." Boseong's king wiped tears from his eyes. "I am now even more curious about him so..." He said, stepping forward.
"Bring us to him, then. Let us see this boy you call an 'emperor'."
Il Nam's grin widened. "With pleasure… gentlemen, follow me."
And with that, he led them toward the street where Zean waited.
---
[Back at Zean's Base]
The kings revealed themselves as the groups finally stepped into the light.
"Jangseong… Yeonggwang… Hampyeong… Hwasun… even Gokseong," Sung Hwan muttered, recognizing the insignias.
Each region had brought its king and circle, swelling the numbers to nearly fifteen hundred. The once-silent street—except for the groans of the fallen men from Damyang and Naju's circles—was now roaring with a sea of bodies.
The kings advanced, their gazes fixed on the boy at the center.
"Sung Hwan," one of them called mockingly. "To think you lost to a child. To think you were once called the south's 'jichang kwak'... How pathetic."
Another stepped forward, eyes narrowing at Zean. "I don't know who you are or who sent you here but this ends now."
"Gwangju, Suncheon and Mokpo will be devided among us kings today and we are all in a good mood so you better take your friends and run before you get yourselves killed."
The crowd roared their approval.
But Zean only stood there, glasses glinting faintly under the streetlights. He was still, silent, unreadable.
The kings smirked, mistaking his calm for fear. Then Zean's lips twitched. A soft chuckle slipped out.
The sound carried across the street, light but sharp.
"What's so funny?" the nearest king demanded, his grin tightening.
Zean raised his head slowly. The chuckle stopped. In its place spread a grin—not amused, but wild, edged with something unhinged.
He removed his glasses. His cold, reverse-colored eyes locked onto the kings. The air shifted almost instantly. A ripple of unease swept through the gathered circles.
Without a word, Zean unbuttoned his shirt. He twisted it, the fabric coiling into a makeshift rope. He exhaled softly, his grin fading into a strangely warm smile as his gaze rested on the king in front of him.
And then, with sudden brutality, he looped the shirt around the man's throat and yanked.
The king gagged, his eyes bulging. Everyone's breaths got caught in their throats. For a long, breathless moment, no one moved.
A fourteen-year-old boy had just attacked a king— strangling him in front of his circle, in front of other kings. It was the purest, loudest and most disrespectful "fuck you" the kings could've ever received.
Finally, the other kings snapped out of their shock and lunged.
Zean released the shirt and twisted away, parrying their strikes with precision. His movements shifted mid-battle—fluid, unpredictable. He was watching, learning.
He started to use his adaptive copy for the first time ever since he came to this world.
One king dove low, hooking Zean's ankle with a jiu-jitsu toe hold. Zean's leg bent at an angle, but he didn't scream. His flexibility absorbed the pressure. His eyes glimmered with amusement as he mirrored the technique on the man's own leg.
In seconds, they were locked in a mirrored submission. Shock flashed across the king's face. Then it twisted into agony as Zean took off the king's shoe and bit down savagely on his toes, forcing him to loosen his grip.
Zean didn't hesitate, his free leg immediately shot upwards before falling down onto the kings face, heel cracking into the king's nose. The man l.
Zean stood up and smirked. "How to fight by samdak—how to beat a jiu-jitsu fighter."
Thinking Zean was distracted, the king he had strangled earlier roared, charging at him in blind rage. Zean sprawled, wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and locked him in a blood choke.
Another king tried to take the opportunity to land a kick—only for Zean to shift his body, using the king he is strangling as a human shield to take the blow, making the choking king's body go limp.
Zean rolled free, launching himself at the kicker. The man spun with a dazzling 1080° Taekwondo kick, thinking he can end this all with a single kick.
To the king's surprise and horror, Zean stood still and tanked the hit with his forehead while smiling at him, before smashing his knee into the man's chin.
The king's body folded. He hit the ground with a thud.
Three kings lay unconscious at Zean's feet.
The crowd stared in horrified awe. Murmurs rippled through the gathered circles. The kings of entire regions—men feared across Jeollanam-do—felled by a boy barely in his teens.
Zean straightened, his breathing steady, his eyes calm. He looked at the two remaining kings, his smile gentle, polite, almost mocking.
"Who would like to go next, gentlemen?"