The first person to vomit was Baek Seongho.
It happened at 6:43 in the morning, behind an abandoned boxing gym in Mapo.
He had been sprinting for forty minutes.
His legs were trembling, his lungs burned, and the cold morning air felt like broken glass in his throat.
Beside him, Seo Hajun collapsed onto the pavement.
"I'm going to kill him."
Yoon Taehwan leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
"Get in line."
Twenty meters away, Kang Minjun checked his watch.
"Three minutes."
Seongho slowly raised his head.
"What?"
"Three minutes until the next exercise."
Hajun stared at him.
"You're joking."
Minjun looked up.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No," Taehwan muttered. "That's the problem."
Minjun closed his watch.
"Get some water. Then inside."
He walked toward the gym.
Hajun watched him disappear.
"Does that bastard even get tired?"
Seongho spat onto the pavement.
"I haven't seen him breathe hard once."
Taehwan wiped sweat from his forehead.
"He's not training with us."
Hajun frowned.
"What?"
"He's training us."
Taehwan pushed himself upright.
"And I think we're about to find out how big the difference really is."
Day One
The boxing gym smelled of old leather and disinfectant.
Minjun had spent the previous evening clearing the floor, repairing equipment, and purchasing basic training supplies.
Now three thick exercise mats covered the center of the room.
A whiteboard stood against the wall.
Written across it were three names.
BAEK SEONGHO — BOXING
YOON TAEHWAN — WRESTLING
SEO HAJUN — KICKBOXING
Beneath them was a single sentence.
Your strongest weapon is also your greatest limitation.
Hajun read it.
"What does that mean?"
Minjun tossed him a pair of gloves.
"You'll understand."
He pointed toward the ring.
"Seongho. First."
Seongho climbed through the ropes.
Minjun followed.
"No gloves?" Seongho asked.
"Not necessary."
Seongho grimaced.
He had already experienced Minjun's strength.
The memory wasn't pleasant.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Hit me."
"Seriously?"
"For two minutes. Every clean hit earns you ten thousand won."
Seongho's exhaustion momentarily disappeared.
"Wait. You're paying?"
"If you land."
Seongho raised his guard.
"Don't regret this."
He attacked immediately.
A jab.
A cross.
A left hook.
Minjun slipped beneath the hook and tapped Seongho's exposed ribs.
"Dead."
Seongho stepped backward.
He tried again.
This time, he feinted before throwing a straight punch.
Minjun moved his head a few centimeters.
"Dead."
Another combination.
"Dead."
Thirty seconds later, Seongho was furious.
"Stop saying that!"
"Stop leaving yourself open."
Seongho rushed forward.
Minjun caught his glove.
"Your boxing is predictable because you're obsessed with landing combinations. You're not watching what your opponent does."
He released him.
"Look at my shoulders. My hips. My feet. Stop staring at my face."
Seongho adjusted his stance.
Minjun nodded.
"Again."
This time, Seongho waited.
He watched Minjun's lead shoulder.
Then threw a jab toward his chest instead of his head.
Minjun avoided it.
But his smile widened slightly.
"Better."
The next punch missed.
And the next.
But Seongho began changing his rhythm.
For the first time, he wasn't simply throwing combinations.
He was thinking.
When the round ended, Minjun tossed him a bottle of water.
"Tomorrow, we'll work on your footwork."
Seongho dropped onto a stool.
"How much did I earn?"
"Nothing."
"Damn it."
Taehwan's training was different.
Minjun removed the boxing gloves and stepped onto the mats.
"Take me down."
Taehwan rolled his shoulders.
"Any technique?"
"Anything legal in wrestling."
Taehwan attacked.
His first attempt was a double-leg takedown.
Minjun sprawled effortlessly.
His second was an inside trip.
Countered.
His third was a shoulder throw.
Minjun didn't move.
After several failed attempts, Taehwan stopped.
"I'm not getting anywhere."
"Because you're trying to overpower me."
"That's wrestling."
"No. That's what you've been getting away with."
Minjun demonstrated a change in grip.
Then another.
He explained how small adjustments in leverage could transform an ordinary throw into something devastating.
Taehwan listened carefully.
Unlike Hajun, he rarely argued.
When Minjun demonstrated a technique, Taehwan attempted to reproduce it immediately.
And his improvement was startling.
Within twenty minutes, his movements had become noticeably cleaner.
Minjun watched him execute a perfect transition from an arm drag into a rear body lock.
Excellent.
Taehwan possessed extraordinary physical intuition.
His body understood movements faster than his mind could explain them.
If developed properly, he could become a terrifying close-range fighter.
Minjun deliberately allowed him to complete a throw.
Taehwan slammed him onto the mat.
For a moment, the wrestler froze.
Then he grinned.
"Finally!"
Minjun looked up from the floor.
"Congratulations."
Taehwan offered his hand.
Minjun accepted it.
Then pulled.
Taehwan suddenly found himself airborne.
He landed on his back.
Minjun stood above him.
"Never celebrate before you've secured control."
Taehwan groaned.
"Understood."
Hajun's turn began with an argument.
"Why can't I use kicks?"
"Because your kicks are already good."
"That's stupid."
"Your hands aren't."
Hajun's expression darkened.
Minjun pointed toward the heavy bag.
"Three hundred straight punches."
"Three hundred?"
"Correct."
"I'm a kickboxer."
"And right now, you're a kickboxer who relies on his legs whenever his boxing fails."
Hajun clenched his jaw.
Then approached the bag.
The first hundred punches were powerful.
The second hundred were slower.
By the final fifty, his shoulders were burning.
Minjun watched without comment.
When Hajun finished, he dropped his hands.
"Happy?"
"No."
Minjun stepped beside him.
"Your right shoulder rises before every cross. Anyone experienced enough will read it."
He demonstrated.
A short, compact punch struck the bag.
BOOM!
The chains snapped tight.
The heavy bag swung violently.
Hajun stared.
Minjun hadn't used much force.
The power came from perfect coordination.
Feet.
Hips.
Shoulders.
Fist.
One continuous movement.
"Again," Minjun said.
Hajun raised his gloves.
This time, he listened.
The First Month
Training became their daily routine.
Mornings began with conditioning.
Afternoons focused on technique.
Evenings were reserved for sparring.
Minjun also insisted they continue attending school or working. He wasn't interested in building an organization of unemployed teenagers who knew nothing except fighting.
Seongho worked at his uncle's repair shop.
Taehwan found part-time work at a warehouse.
Hajun transferred to a school in Seoul and rented a small room nearby.
Their progress was uneven.
Seongho improved his footwork and defensive awareness.
Taehwan developed a broader arsenal of takedowns and submissions.
Hajun's boxing gradually caught up with his devastating kicking ability.
But progress came with frustration.
On the nineteenth day, Hajun lost his temper.
He'd spent the entire evening sparring against Taehwan.
And he'd lost six times.
The wrestler repeatedly closed the distance, smothered his kicks, and dragged him onto the mat.
During their seventh round, Hajun slammed his fist against the floor.
"FUCK!"
Taehwan stepped backward.
"What's your problem?"
"Stop grabbing me!"
Taehwan stared.
"I'm a wrestler."
"I KNOW!"
Minjun, who had been watching from the corner, stood.
"Both of you. Enough."
Hajun pulled off his gloves.
"This is pointless. I can't kick properly when he keeps rushing me."
Minjun stepped onto the mat.
"Then stop letting him."
Hajun glared.
"Easy for you to say."
Minjun looked at Taehwan.
"Attack me."
Taehwan immediately shot forward.
Minjun shifted half a step.
His knee rose.
It stopped an inch from Taehwan's face.
The wrestler froze.
Minjun lowered his leg.
"That's one answer."
He looked at Hajun.
"Again."
Taehwan attacked.
This time, Minjun used a short uppercut.
Then a frame against the shoulder.
Then a pivot that left Taehwan completely off balance.
Four different counters.
Four different solutions.
Hajun watched silently.
Minjun stepped back.
"You're not losing because wrestling beats kickboxing. You're losing because you refuse to adapt."
Hajun looked toward Taehwan.
His jaw tightened.
Then he put his gloves back on.
"One more round."
Taehwan smiled.
"Come on."
The next exchange lasted twelve seconds.
Taehwan changed levels.
Hajun anticipated it.
He stepped sideways, framed against Taehwan's shoulder, and threw a short uppercut.
The punch stopped just short of Taehwan's chin.
Silence.
Then Hajun grinned.
"Got you."
Taehwan looked at the fist.
Then laughed.
"Yeah. You did."
Minjun nodded.
"Good. Now do it when you're exhausted."
Both groaned.
The Warehouse Incident
Their first real test arrived on a rainy Thursday evening.
Seongho was closing his uncle's repair shop when four motorcycles stopped outside.
Eight teenagers climbed off.
Their leader wore a black jacket with a white dog emblem stitched onto the sleeve.
Seongho recognized it immediately.
God Dog.
The leader approached.
"You're Baek Seongho?"
Seongho put down his tools.
"Who's asking?"
The teenager smiled.
"Someone who wants to know where Kang Minjun is."
Seongho's expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because your friend embarrassed our crew."
Seongho glanced toward the motorcycles.
Eight opponents.
Some carried metal pipes.
A month earlier, he would have panicked.
Now he felt something different.
His heartbeat accelerated.
But his hands remained steady.
"Tell Johan to come himself."
The teenager's smile disappeared.
"Watch your mouth."
He swung.
Seongho slipped beneath the punch.
A sharp jab struck the attacker's nose.
CRACK!
Blood sprayed.
The teenager staggered backward.
Seongho stepped forward.
A cross landed against his jaw.
The leader collapsed.
The remaining seven froze.
Seongho raised his guard.
"Who's next?"
They rushed him.
The first attacker swung a pipe.
Seongho stepped outside its arc and drove a punch into his ribs.
Another grabbed his shoulder.
Seongho twisted free and struck him with a short hook.
A third attacked from behind.
The pipe connected with Seongho's upper arm.
Pain shot through his shoulder.
He stumbled.
Shit.
Two attackers closed in.
Seongho retreated toward the shop entrance.
His breathing quickened.
Then Minjun's voice surfaced in his memory.
Stop staring at their fists. Watch their feet.
Seongho looked down.
The first attacker planted his lead foot.
A right hook was coming.
Seongho slipped.
Countered.
BAM!
The attacker collapsed.
The second lunged.
Seongho stepped sideways and drove a straight punch into his face.
Another fell.
For the first time, Seongho realized something.
He wasn't merely surviving.
He was winning.
By the time Minjun arrived, six attackers were unconscious.
Seongho stood beside the shop entrance.
His lip was split.
His left arm hung awkwardly.
But he was still standing.
The final two attackers backed away.
Minjun stopped beneath the streetlight.
He examined the scene.
Then looked at Seongho.
"You alright?"
Seongho grinned through bloody teeth.
"Six."
Minjun raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"I got six."
Minjun looked toward the unconscious teenagers.
Then smiled.
"Not bad."
One of the remaining attackers suddenly rushed forward with a pipe.
Minjun didn't even turn fully.
He caught the weapon.
Crushed the metal between his fingers.
Then struck the attacker with an open palm.
BOOM!
The teenager flew backward and crashed into a pile of tires.
The final attacker dropped his pipe.
Minjun looked at him.
"Go."
The boy ran.
Minjun turned back toward Seongho.
"Your shoulder?"
"Hurts."
"Can you move it?"
"A little."
Minjun examined the injury.
"Probably a bad bruise, but we're getting it checked."
Seongho nodded.
Then looked toward the defeated attackers.
"You know what's crazy?"
"What?"
"A month ago, three guys would've destroyed me."
Minjun smiled.
"And now?"
Seongho glanced toward the six unconscious teenagers.
"Now I think I could've taken all eight."
Minjun laughed.
"Don't get arrogant."
Seongho grinned.
"Learned from the best."
The Next Generation
That night, Minjun stood alone inside the gym.
The others had gone home.
Rain tapped against the windows.
He examined the training records scattered across his desk.
Seongho.
Taehwan.
Hajun.
Three talented fighters.
Three completely different personalities.
And three young men who had begun changing faster than anyone around them realized.
But Minjun wasn't satisfied.
Not yet.
He remembered the monsters of the Lookism world.
Gun Park.
Goo Kim.
James Lee.
Tom Lee.
The First Generation Kings.
His companions weren't ready to stand against people like them.
Not even close.
But their foundations were improving.
And more importantly, they were beginning to trust one another.
Minjun picked up a marker.
On the whiteboard, beneath their names, he wrote:
THREE MONTHS — FIRST GENERATION KING LEVEL
He stepped back.
A difficult target.
For ordinary fighters, perhaps impossible.
But his recruits weren't ordinary.
And their teacher was someone who understood martial arts at a level this world had never seen.
Minjun smiled.
"Let's see how far you can go."
Outside, the rain continued falling over Seoul.
And somewhere beyond Mapo, the established powers of the underworld were beginning to hear rumors about a small crew whose members were growing stronger at an alarming rate.