Elite learned the truth in pieces.
That was how information always reached him—never all at once, never loudly. Just fragments sliding into place, forming a picture only he was patient enough to see.
Tom Lee had been defeated.
Not injured.Not driven off.
Defeated.
Elite's fingers paused over the document.
"…Bouya Haru," he read quietly.
The name lingered.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes lifting toward the city skyline beyond the glass. Seoul spread beneath him like a machine that never slept—every cog moving exactly where he wanted it.
Except one.
"So," Elite murmured, "you've finally stepped off your island."
Ulsan's King.
The Golden Lion.
A First Generation anomaly who never played politics, never chased expansion, never answered summons. Elite had tolerated him for years—not out of mercy, but calculation and because he was Gapryongs Disciple, a caution wrapped in many tapes.
Bouya Haru didn't move.
And things that didn't move weren't threats.
Until they were.
Elite closed his eyes.
And remembered.
The first crusade, he had sent James Lee on
James Lee, young, flawless, unstoppable—sent to erase the First Generation Kings in the countryside one by one. Cities fell. Names vanished. Resistance folded under inevitability.
Then James Lee entered Ulsan.
And came back defeated.
Elite had still been calm then.
Surprised—but calm.
"Interesting," he'd said at the time.
Because Bouya Haru hadn't chased victory.
He hadn't followed.
He hadn't tried to expand.
He simply stayed.
Then came the second report.
Ten days.
That was how long the battle lasted when Kitae—James Lee's closest contact, his mirror—went to conquer Ulsan afterward.
Ten days of continuous conflict.
No winner.
No submission.
A stalemate so violent it warped the land around it.
Elite had gone quiet for a long time after that.
"…A king who doesn't seek power," he muttered now. "But refuses to fall."
Dangerous.
Elite opened his eyes.
And now—
Tom Lee had been beaten.
Not killed, but forced to acknowledge defeat.
By the same man.
Gapryong Kim's disciple.
Elite exhaled slowly.
"…So that's why the timing changed."
The raid on the old headquarters had been his order.
Not impulsive.
Not emotional.
Calculated.
Baekho knew too much.
And now Bouya Haru had gone looking for him.
Elite's mouth curved faintly—not a smile, but something colder.
"You didn't just walk into the past," he said quietly. "You shook it."
The knives.The confusion.The internal fracture.
Baekho's death had not been collateral.
It had been containment.
Elite turned his chair slightly, fingers steepled.
"And now," he said, "the last disciple has begun asking the right questions."
That couldn't be allowed.
Not again.
He walks up to the roof of the building, Gun Park standing to his side, and he looks at him before saying, 'Are you ready?'
Gun looks at him and nods before walking past Charles
'Watch how far I go up,' Charles said before Gun left
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Tom Lee found out about Baekho in a way that hurt more than any wound.
A nurse hesitated before speaking.
That hesitation told him everything.
He sat on the edge of the hospital bed, bandaged hand clenched tightly as the words reached him.
Baekho—dead.
Multiple stab wounds.
Found at the old headquarters.
Tom didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Then he laughed.
A broken sound.
"…Of course," he muttered. "Of course, that's how it ends."
The 0th Generation.
Gapryong gone.Baekho gone. The rest scattered, hunted, erased in silence.
Tom lowered his head.
Then he remembered Bouya Haru.
The Golden Lion walking into that building.
Asking questions.
Dragging the past into the open.
Baekho dies after that.
And Bouya—
Gone.
Tom's jaw clenched.
"…You bastard," he growled.
Anger surged up fast and violently.
"You beat me," he snarled. "Then you walk into Baekho's den, stir everything up, and disappear?"
His fist slammed into the bedside table.
CRACK.
Pain flared.
He welcomed it.
"If you hadn't gone there—" he started.
Then stopped.
Silence followed.
Tom leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling, breathing heavy.
"…No," he said at last.
His voice was tired now.
"It was already decided."
Bouya had just been the spark.
Tom closed his eyes.
"The 0th Generation is finished," he whispered.
And somewhere out there, the Golden Lion was moving again—strong enough to shake eras, reckless enough to burn bridges.
Tom didn't know whether he wanted to stop him.
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Tom Lee had left the hospital and was seen perched sleeping on a bench like the world owed him nothing.
One arm draped over his eyes, coat pulled tight against the night air, ribs still aching beneath layers of bandages. The city moved around him without care—footsteps passing, cars hissing on wet asphalt, neon lights flickering overhead.
He exhaled slowly.
Then—
"Oi."
Tom didn't move.
"Wake up, old man."
A shadow fell across him.
"I'm Goo," One said
"I'm Gun," The other said
"Charles Choi sent us, are you really a good fighter?" Goo asked, adjusting his glasses
Tom cracked one eye open.
Gun stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling like he'd found something amusing. Goo leaned against a streetlight beside him, chewing gum lazily, eyes sharp.
"Charles sent us to test you, to see if you're still as strong before we let you in on the big plan." Goo said
"But are you really that good?" He questioned again
Tom sat up with a grunt.
"…Charles Choi really has a big plan," he muttered, rubbing his neck. "To test my skills, he sends two middle schoolers."
Gun's smile widened.
Goo laughed softly.
They exchanged a glance.
Gun tilted his head.
"Was the King of Ulsan a middle schooler?"
Tom paused.
Then grinned.
"…I suppose not."
He stood.
The air changed.
Gun stepped forward.
Goo followed.
The clash came instantly—Tom's fist colliding with Gun's guard, Goo's kick slicing toward Tom's ribs as all three moved at once. The bench shattered behind them as they collided, the sound sharp and violent in the quiet street.
Steel met instinct.
Experience met hunger.
And somewhere in the city, Charles Choi waited to see what would survive.
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Across Seoul, under warm lights and the smell of sizzling meat, I sat at a small table with Bakgu and Jichang.
For once, no blood.
Just food.
Bakgu chewed slowly, eyes distant, already half-gone. Jichang sat upright, posture perfect as always, guarding his plate like it was territory.
"So," I said, leaning back. "I'll take your car."
Bakgu blinked.
"…You're not even asking."
I shrugged.
"You're heading to the countryside, right? Gathering info where no one's watching."
He sighed deeply.
"…Yeah. And I suppose you're going to drive it as you stole it."
"Obviously."
Another sigh.
"Fine," Bakgu said. "Just don't wreck it."
I nodded once.
Then turned to Jichang.
"Found the issue," I said casually. "Why so many of our generation have been getting wiped out?"
Jichang's eyes sharpened.
"Seems one of the former members of the Fist Gang's been moving in the shadows," I continued. "Won't be long before they start hitting proper large-city kings."
As I spoke, I reached over and stole a slice of beef from Jichang's plate.
He twitched.
Hard.
"…So it begins," he said, exhaling. "Well. We'll all be ready for that."
I smirked.
Then laughed.
Food flew out of my mouth.
Jichang recoiled in horror.
"Stop eating like an animal," he snapped, throwing napkins at my face.
I laughed harder, batting them away.
"Relax," I said. "I't aint going to kill ya."
Bakgu shook his head.
Outside, Seoul kept moving.
Inside, the kings prepared.
And somewhere between a bench shattered by fists and a table scattered with napkins, the next war quietly chose its players.
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Charles Choi stood at the top of the building overlooking the city
"Charles Choi," a voice echoed
"Your Her,e" Charles said as Gun walked up near him
"Its all done, but why are you here?" Gun asked
"Take a good look," Charles replied
"Everything in front of my eyes right now will soon become mine," He said as he looked over the city, looking over all of the bright lights, the buildings, the noise, the moving cars.
"Youve really lost it," Gun said
"I have a favor to ask," Charles said as Gun went to stand side by side with him
"I'm pretty sure I told you to give me orders, not requets" Gun said back
Charles looked at him, "The plans about to start, but something's bothering me."
"What's that?" Gun asked
"The Red Paper," He said, "It has the details of me conspiring with the Yamazaki during the Pre Generation. It'll be troublesome if it were to pop up after the plan begins. I need you to go look into this."
"Go back to the Yamazaki and confirm the whereabouts of the red paper," Charles finished
"Great," Gun spoke, "I just happened to have business there."