There was no sky, no ground, no time—only a vast emptiness where the slightest movement echoed like thunder.
Gin Chan's eyes snapped open, burning with the sting of a hard slap across his cheek. The taste of blood mixed with sweat filled his mouth. His body screamed with exhaustion and pain, but the world demanded his attention.
"Get up, Daehyun! Now!" barked a rough voice, sharp like a whip.
Above, harsh lights blinded him, spotlighting the bruises, cuts, and swollen skin covering his battered frame. The roar of the crowd was deafening, wild, raw—a mix of anticipation, hate, and excitement.
He blinked, trying to focus.
Lee Daehyun.
Another life.
The memories flooded back in violent flashes—years of struggle and survival in the underground fight clubs. A boy with no family, no home, no mercy. Raised by fists and blood, forged in the fires of pain and betrayal.
Daehyun wasn't a fighter for glory. He fought because it was all he had.
The bell rang, sharp and final.
Final round.
Across the ring, Kang Min-seok loomed like a mountain. The undefeated champion, a brutal man whose fists shattered bones and whose reputation crushed spirits. His eyes burned with cold certainty.
But Daehyun… Daehyun had something far fiercer. Purpose. A promise. A will to live that nothing could break.
Gin Chan could feel the surge—Daehyun's anger, desperation, and hope—all coursing through his veins like wildfire.
"Don't hold back," Gin whispered to himself. "Fight. For her. For yourself."
Min-seok moved first, a flash of power shooting towards Daehyun's jaw. Gin ducked, barely dodging the crushing blow, his breath stolen by the near miss.
Pain exploded in his ribs as Min-seok's fist followed, but Gin barely noticed. Years of broken bones and bruises had made him numb to pain.
He countered swiftly: a jab to the ribs, a hook to the temple, a low blow. Each strike was fueled by the raw will to survive, to defy fate.
The crowd's roar swelled, drowning out everything else.
Time slowed as Gin and Min-seok exchanged blows—blows that could shatter jaws and end careers. Sweat and blood mixed, flying in the hot air of the arena.
The taste of copper flooded Gin's mouth as he took a heavy hit, staggering back. But the fire inside Daehyun's heart refused to die.
He saw the opening—a flicker of hesitation in Min-seok's eyes.
Three quick strikes. Jab, cross, uppercut.
Min-seok's head snapped back; his legs buckled.
The referee dove in, counting.
"One… Two… Three…"
The crowd erupted. Cameras flashed like lightning storms. Voices screamed Daehyun's name.
Gin collapsed in the corner, chest heaving, vision swimming.
He wanted to scream. To cry. To celebrate.
But inside, a quiet ache gnawed at him.
Because the fight wasn't over.
---
Backstage, silence blanketed the locker room.
Gin stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Daehyun's bruised face stared back—eyes bloodshot, lips swollen, spirit worn thin.
Peace, maybe. But also dread.
The door creaked.
Suits.
Three men in cold black suits stepped inside, faces unreadable, eyes sharp like knives.
"You were told to throw the fight," said the leader, voice cold and unforgiving.
"I didn't take your money," Gin said, voice hoarse but steady.
"Doesn't matter. You humiliated us."
"I don't care," Gin snapped.
The men smiled, but it was a blade, not warmth.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Five men now. Their expressions dark, dangerous.
"You think you're untouchable, boxer boy?" one sneered.
Gin stood, fists clenched, every muscle aching, every breath burning.
"I won."
A punch to the gut. The world went black for a second.
Pain exploded as fists, boots, and metal rods rained down.
Gin fought back with everything Daehyun had learned—years of street fights, broken bottles, survival instincts sharp as knives.
He grabbed a thug, slammed him into lockers, twisted an arm, and sent him crashing into a bench.
For a moment, he had the upper hand.
But the men were relentless.
A stun gun sparked to life. Shock rippled through Gin's body, muscles locking painfully.
Chains wrapped tight, boots pounding, fists smashing.
He crawled, bleeding, breath ragged.
"You're not dying yet," one growled.
Another boot slammed into his face.
The leader stepped forward, pulling a sleek silver gun from his jacket.
"I warned you."
The shot echoed, a cold thunder.
---
The black stone platform awaited him again.
Gin Chan opened his eyes, numb, suspended in timeless silence.
Death was there—her black dress flowing, eyes sharp as ever, the silver gun gleaming at her side.
"Well fought," she said.
Gin tried to speak.
"I… I fought."
"You survived longer than most," Death said. "Daehyun's spirit was strong."
Gin clenched his fists. "Why do you do this? What's the point?"
"You called me," Death said, voice softer now. "When you jumped, you said, 'Death is nothing but the ending.' I heard you."
Gin swallowed hard.
"This is your punishment… and your chance."
Death reached out, touching his forehead lightly.
"Carry their memories, their strengths, their regrets."
She raised the silver gun.
"Ready?"
Gin nodded.
"Remember, Gin Chan. Fail to learn, and true death will come."
Bang.
---