The wind swept across the hidden island estate, brushing through the towering bamboo and rustling the emerald leaves with a whisper that only the Park family could hear. It was a sound filled with ancient pride and hidden violence—one that matched the bloodline of the monsters who called this island home.
Ian Park, now thirteen years old, stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, shirtless and barefoot, body glistening with sweat from a three-hour morning session of martial arts. Behind him, waves crashed violently against the jagged rocks, but Ian didn't flinch. His mind was calm, focused.
Beside him, Goro, his summoned butler and former tactical commander in a different dimension, held a towel in one hand and a bottle of rehydration fluid in the other.
"Training complete, Young Master," Goro said with a stiff bow. "Your progress exceeds our latest simulations. Your muscle control is at 150% optimal for a boy your age."
Ian took the towel, wiped his face, and turned to walk down the stone path leading to the family courtyard. As he did, he spotted a smaller, chubbier figure waddling ahead—his younger brother, Jinyoung.
Jinyoung Park was only a year old, but his eyes carried the same proud glint as the rest of their bloodline. He held a banana in both hands like it was a sacred relic.
"Hey, squirt," Ian said, smirking.
Jinyoung giggled, then promptly slipped on his own banana peel and landed on his padded behind.
"Banana Peel Style—Level 1," Ian muttered, amused.
Behind them, summoned maid Anna—ex-black ops and now nanny extraordinaire—sighed.
"Young Master Jinyoung has begun independent field testing of combat evasion techniques," she deadpanned.
---
Later that day, Ian was summoned by his father to the eastern side of the island, deep within the bamboo forests where few were allowed to tread. Flanked by two silent bodyguards, Ian walked behind the Park patriarch—an imposing man wrapped in a silk robe that shimmered with woven dragons.
"It's time you learned more about our legacy," the father said without looking back.
They arrived at a hidden shrine, sealed with stone gates inscribed in a mixture of Korean hanja, ancient Chinese, Sanskrit, and something Ian couldn't quite identify.
As the gates rumbled open, a blast of cold wind rushed out. Inside, ghostly blue fire flickered in braziers, and ancient scrolls floated mid-air in suspended animation.
In the center of the shrine was a mural—massive, cracked with age, and filled with artistic depictions of brutal battles. In one scene, a shirtless man with long black hair flipped a warship upside down. In another, he smiled while holding the severed head of what appeared to be a Yamazaki Clan Patriarch.
"That," the patriarch said, placing a hand on Ian's shoulder, "is your great-great-grandfather."
Ian stared.
"He once defeated an army with only a stick of bamboo. He ended a civil war by walking into a battlefield and asking them to shut up. They did. He doesn't speak to the outside world because he's bored. Nothing entertains him anymore."
Ian stepped forward, staring into the eyes of the man in the mural.
"What happened to him?"
"He sleeps beneath the island now. Technically not dead. But the seal weakens."
The chamber shook gently.
"It's nothing," the patriarch said. "Just him snoring."
---
Back at the mansion, Jinyoung was having a food fight with a summoned chef named Briggs—a one-eyed ex-naval war cook who could sauté with one hand and arm-wrestle a tiger with the other.
"Eat your carrots, Young Master!"
Jinyoung hurled mashed potatoes like a grenade.
Anna calmly deflected the flying food with a tray. "Progress: Young Master Jinyoung has developed early resistance to propaganda vegetables."
Upstairs, Ian sat in the observatory, staring through a telescope at the stars.
"One day," he muttered, "I'll leave this island. I'll go into the world. Show them what it means to carry the Park bloodline."
---
The next day, Ian returned alone to the shrine, guided by one of his summoned biotech guardians—Unit GR-88, a silver-haired tactician with an AI-enhanced brain and a sword forged in another timeline.
The vault opened with a whisper of old ghosts. Ian approached the scrolls.
Each scroll contained forbidden martial arts styles—styles lost in war, sealed by governments, or destroyed in secret military raids. Techniques that broke bones with sound alone. Movements that allowed a fighter to dodge bullets not by speed, but by intuition.
Ian absorbed them all.
His Perfect Learning trait kicked in. One by one, the scrolls burned with blue fire and embedded themselves in his memory.
---
That night, his father visited his room. He placed an old photo album on Ian's bed.
In it were black-and-white photos: men in military uniforms, women in hanbok standing proudly beside tanks, a young Gabryong Kim trembling as he bowed before a smiling man with Park eyes.
"You must never reveal your full strength outside this island," the father said. "Not yet. Even if you're provoked."
"Why not?"
"Because the world fears what it doesn't understand. And if they realize the Park Family still walks among them... they'll unite. Even enemies will forget their grudges. Just to try and stop us."
Ian nodded.
But in his heart, he smiled.
He wanted that.
He wanted the world to shake.
---
Post-Credits Scene: Elsewhere
In a bar deep in Seoul, a drunk man muttered to himself.
"You know the Park Family? Heard they're extinct."
Behind him, a man in a dark coat stood up, finishing his drink.
"If they were extinct," he said with a chill in his voice, "you and I would still be alive."
Then he walked out.
---