The darkness wasn't empty. For Kang Han-Jun, the darkness was a memory. It smelled like the iron in blood and the cold canvas of a professional ring. In that void, he saw the "Incident" again—the punch that shouldn't have killed, but did.
"Wake up, Number Zero."
Han-Jun's eyes snapped open. He wasn't in the hospital. He was in a dimly lit locker room beneath the underground arena. His chest felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer, but the sharp pain was gone, replaced by a dull, rhythmic throb.
"You're lucky," a voice said.
Lee So-Mi was sitting on a wooden bench, spinning a smartphone between her fingers. She wasn't looking at him; she was looking at a digital interface on the screen.
"Your heart stopped for exactly four seconds," she continued, her tone chillingly casual. "The Aegis Protocol doctors warned us about your 'limit'. They call it the Red Zone."
Han-Jun sat up, his muscles screaming. "How long was I out?"
"Ten minutes. The crowd thinks you just fainted from exhaustion. Tae-Ho is still celebrating his 'victory' upstairs. But we know the truth. You won that fight in the first thirty seconds. Your body just couldn't handle the output."
Han-Jun looked at his hands. They were steady now. "What is the Red Zone?"
So-Mi stood up and showed him the screen. It was a ranking system. Names of students from various schools were listed with a numerical value next to them.
Current Ranking: The Iron Realm
Park Jin-Woo (Daeshin High) - Power Level: Undefined
Choi Tae-Ho (Iron Fist) - Power Level: 850
...
Kang Han-Jun (Aegis) - Power Level: 1200 (System Overload)
"The government created an algorithm to measure fighting potential," So-Mi explained. "Most 'kings' are around 800. You are a 1200. But your old injury... it's like putting a Ferrari engine in a broken car. If you go over 1000, your heart starts to fail."
Han-Jun stood up, ignoring the protest of his ribs. "Then I just have to finish my fights faster."
"Easier said than done. Look." She pointed to the door.
The heavy metal door creaked open. Three men entered. They weren't students. They were scouts for the Iron Realm, the syndicate that controlled the schools. They wore black suits and had the cold eyes of professional killers.
"The boss wants to see the 'new kid'," the tallest one said. He had a scar running across his nose. "He doesn't like it when outsiders mess with his money."
Han-Jun looked at So-Mi. She stepped back, her face unreadable. "This wasn't part of the plan, Han-Jun. This is an escalation."
"No," Han-Jun said, cracking his neck. "This is exactly what I wanted."
The Hallway Brawl
The men didn't wait. The one with the scar lunged forward, swinging a heavy telescopic baton. This wasn't a school fight. This was an execution.
Han-Jun's vision shifted. In his mind, time slowed down. This was his "Combat Sense"—a gift that made him a prodigy, and a curse that pushed his heart to the limit.
Analysis: Weapon reach 40cm. Attack angle: 45 degrees. Speed: Amateur.
Han-Jun didn't retreat. He stepped into the strike. He caught the man's wrist with his left hand and used his right elbow to smash the man's bicep.
CRACK.
The baton dropped. Before the man could scream, Han-Jun delivered a "Seven-Inch Punch" directly to the solar plexus. The scout collapsed, his lungs unable to draw air.
The other two men froze. They had seen many fighters, but they had never seen someone move like this. It wasn't just strength; it was surgical precision.
"Kill him!" the second man yelled, pulling out a butterfly knife.
Han-Jun felt his pulse rising. 800... 850... 900.
"Stay calm," he told himself. "Keep the heart rate low."
The knife-wielder slashed wildly. Han-Jun danced back, his movements fluid like water. He used a low leg kick to disrupt the man's balance, then grabbed the man's head and slammed it into the concrete wall. One hit. Efficiency over ego.
The third man, the largest of the group, pulled out a brass knuckle. He was sweating. He realized that the person in front of him wasn't a student. He was a predator.
"Who are you?" the man stammered.
"The guy who's going to put you out of a job," Han-Jun replied.
He didn't wait for the man to attack. Han-Jun sprinted. In three steps, he was in the man's "dead zone." He delivered a flurry of body shots—liver, ribs, kidneys. Each strike was calculated to maximize pain without killing.
The large man fell to his knees, vomiting. Han-Jun stood over him, his breathing slightly heavy.
"Tell your boss," Han-Jun said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Tell Park Jin-Woo that the 'Designated Bully' is coming. And tell him to bring more men. These three were boring."
The Shadow of the King
Han-Jun walked out of the underground facility and into the cool night air of the city. So-Mi followed him, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and admiration.
"You just declared war on the entire Iron Realm," she said, her voice shaking. "They won't just send scouts next time. They'll send the 'Executive' students. The real monsters."
"Let them come," Han-Jun said, looking at the city skyline. "The faster they come, the faster I can finish this."
"You don't understand," So-Mi grabbed his arm. "There's a reason Jin-Woo is the King. He's not just a fighter. He's a 'Project' just like you. But he didn't fail. He was the only successful one before you."
Han-Jun stopped. "What do you mean?"
"The Aegis Protocol isn't the first time the government tried this," she whispered. "Jin-Woo was the prototype. He's the 'Alpha'. And he has been waiting for someone like you to show up."
Han-Jun felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't pain. It was a spark. For the first time in years, he felt a genuine challenge.
He looked at his phone. A message appeared from an unknown number. It was a video file.
He clicked play.
The video showed a classroom at Daeshin High. In the center of the room, a group of students were tied up, bruised and bleeding. These were the students Han-Jun had "protected" earlier that day.
Then, the camera turned. A tall, pale young man with silver hair and eyes as cold as ice looked directly into the lens. He was sitting on a throne made of stacked desks.
"Kang Han-Jun," the silver-haired boy said, smiling. "Welcome to my kingdom. I heard you like to play hero."
The boy reached out and grabbed one of the tied-up students by the hair.
"I'll give you twenty-four hours to find me," the boy said. "For every hour you're late, I'll break one of their fingers. Tick-tock, Ghost."
The video ended.
Han-Jun stared at the black screen. The "Red Zone" in his chest began to throb again, but he didn't care.
So-Mi looked at him, her face pale. "That's him. That's Ryu Min-Ho, the 'Executioner' of the Iron Realm. He's Jin-Woo's right hand. Han-Jun, it's a trap. If you go there now, your heart won't last ten minutes in a high-intensity fight."
Han-Jun turned around, his eyes glowing with a dark, terrifying light.
"I'm not going there to fight," Han-Jun said, his voice a low growl.
"Then what are you going to do?"
Han-Jun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black pill the government doctors had given him for "emergencies only."
"I'm going there to end them," he said, swallowing the pill.
But as he swallowed it, his phone buzzed again. A new message. Not from Min-Ho. Not from the government.
It was from his dead brother's number.
"Don't take the pill, Han-Jun. They are watching you."