The arcade smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener.
A neon glow bathed the room, flickering lights reflecting off broken glass and bloodied faces. The scent of sweat and blood mixed with the stale air, but Taesoo Ma didn't seem to notice.
He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulder as he stepped over the crumpled bodies around him.
They weren't dead… just out cold, groaning, too weak to bother finishing the fight they started.
All because they were standing in front of his machine.
Taesoo sat down, his grey blazer hanging open over his bare chest, his right hand still smeared with blood. He wiped it absently against his pants before gripping the joystick, pressing the start button with his thumb.
The pixelated screen flickered to life.
The title theme played, loud and triumphant, completely at odds with the wreckage behind him.
Somewhere near the entrance, the arcade owner was losing his mind, yelling at no one in particular, too afraid to get involved.
The remaining customers had already ran away, whispering to each other, their gazes darting between the unconscious men in suits and the man responsible for them.
But Taesoo?
He just played.
The buttons clicked beneath his fingers as he focused on the game, expression calm, posture relaxed. It was a good game, one he'd played for years. Plenty of memories.
Taesoo's hands stayed steady as he guided his character through the map, dispatching anyone who got in its way.
One of the men behind him groaned. Taesoo didn't turn around.
"Bastard…" the man coughed.
Taesoo's eyes didn't leave the screen.
"Move next time," he said simply.
The man tried to push himself up but collapsed again, wheezing. His nose was broken. Jaw swollen. Ribs, maybe cracked.
The others weren't in much better shape. Taesoo had made sure of that.
Still, even as he played, he was thinking.
This wasn't the first time some random gang had tried to pick a fight. He wasn't part of any crew, never had been, and he'd beaten down enough people to have enemies scattered across the city. But this wasn't just some dumb punks trying to prove a point.
These guys were from Ansan but they didn't fight like they wanted to beat him. It was different from that.
And more importantly, they didn't even seem surprised when they lost.
Taesoo narrowed his eyes slightly at the screen, his fingers still moving over the buttons.
Someone was leading him somewhere.
His name had been in too many mouths the past few days. More fights, more setups, more people looking for him but not really fighting him.
Like they were waiting for something.
His next move. His next reaction.
They were guiding him, pushing him toward something.
It wasn't hard to figure out who. Ansan was a mess right now, too many factions moving at once, too many power struggles spilling into the streets.
Someone wanted to use him as a piece in their game. Someone wanted to see if they could turn him into a weapon, aim him in the right direction, wind him up, and let him go.
He didn't care.
Because at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter.
The game's boss loomed on the screen, a towering figure with impossible strength, blocking the entire frame.
Taesoo exhaled slowly.
If they wanted him to play their game, it didn't matter.
He was a real man. He didn't run away from fights.
Fights ran away from him.
And it didn't matter whatever fight he'd get into.
His fist would be the only one to decide when it was over.
***
4 days Later
Kangjun sat at the edge of the bar counter, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
The Karaoke Bar was quieter than usual, the usual drunken laughter and off-key singing replaced with the low murmur of conversation.
His men were scattered across the room, some sitting at tables, some leaning against the walls, some pretending to relax but unable to shake off the feeling.
It had been four days since Taeyang and Daehyun walked out that door. Four days without a word.
Four days of waiting.
The door swung open, and one of his men rushed inside, breathless.
"Ansan's coming."
Kangjun didn't move at first. Didn't react. He simply flicked his gaze upward, watching the younger man steady himself.
"How many?"
The guy swallowed hard. "At least sixty."
A small, humorless chuckle left Kangjun's lips. He rolled the cigarette between his fingers once more before tucking it behind his ear.
Sixty.
They had twenty.
He'd known this moment would come. Anyang had already lost too much already. Their numbers were dwindling, and now, with their strongest two missing, they were left with nothing but themselves.
Fuckers.
He pushed himself to his feet, adjusting the sleeves of his black button-up, and exhaled.
"Giseok?"
"At the front."
Of course he was. The bastard wanted this. Needed it.
"And Jinhwan?"
The man hesitated. "…Nowhere."
That made Kangjun pause.
Jinhwan wasn't here?
The alliance between Giseok and Jinhwan had never sat right with him.
Those two weren't in this for Ansan. They weren't here for turf. This war wasn't about control, and that made it more dangerous than any fight Kangjun had ever been in.
Jinhwan had no reason to be absent. Unless…
He was up to something.
Kangjun exhaled through his nose, shaking off the thought. It didn't matter right now.
What mattered was that sixty men were marching straight toward them, and the only thing standing between them and total collapse… was them.
He turned back to the room.
"Everyone, up."
Chairs scraped against the floor. Conversations died mid-sentence. Men straightened, eyes shifting from one another before settling on Kangjun.
He stood in the center of the room, shoulders squared, feet planted firm. The weight of what was coming settled over him like a storm hanging low in the sky. He could feel it in his bones.
No one spoke. No one moved. They were waiting.
Kangjun exhaled. "We make our stand here," he said, voice steady. "This is it."
Silence.
He let it sink in.
"We are the only ones between Anyang and Ansan. If we don't stop them now, we never will."
A few of the younger ones shifted. The reality of their situation pressed down like a blade at their throats. But no one turned away.
Kangjun's gaze moved across the room, to the men who had been here from the start. The ones who had thrown their first punches in these streets, who had bled on this pavement, who had built something out of nothing.
He didn't need to tell them what this meant.
They already knew.
"They think we're weak," Kangjun continued. His voice didn't rise, but it carried. "They think they can walk in here, push us aside, and claim what isn't theirs." He scoffed, shaking his head. "They think we'll kneel."
A murmur rippled through the group. Low, burning.
"They outnumber us three to one." He didn't sugarcoat it. "They think that's enough." His lips curled slightly, something bitter, something sharp. "They think numbers win fights. That fear breaks men."
He let that hang in the air for a moment.
Then, he took a step forward.
"But they've already made a mistake."
Another step.
"They think we're just another group to crush under their boots."
Another.
"They don't know who they're up against."
Kangjun stopped. He looked every single one of them in the eyes.
"We are Anyang."
A hum of something dark, something alive, moved through the room.
"We don't run," he continued. "We don't bow. We don't break." His hands clenched at his sides. "They came here expecting to take whatever they wanted." A pause. Then, his voice dropped lower, sharper.
"But they have to earn it."
A few of the men smirked. A few cracked their knuckles.
Kangjun exhaled slowly, lifting his chin.
"We have the Boy of Liberation. We have the Hound of Anyang." He met their gazes, one by one. "But they're not here yet."
Silence.
"That means it's up to us."
Someone exhaled through their nose, short and sharp. Another shifted their stance.
Kangjun's voice was steel now, unwavering.
"They want a war?" He scoffed. "Then let's give them one."
A flicker of something burned in their eyes.
Resolve.
Determination.
And something else...
Rage.
Kangjun nodded once. Then, he spoke the only word that mattered.
"Fight."
The word rang through the bar like a battle cry.
No one backed down.
No one ran.
This was their city.
And if they were going to fall—
They would make damn sure the enemy never forgot their names.
***
Daehyun's phone buzzed.
His hand dipped into his pocket, retrieving it with slow, deliberate movements. His gaze flickered over the screen. For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, he exhaled through his nose.
"They're moving."
Taeyang tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Giseok?"
"And the rest of them." Daehyun's voice was calm, but there was something underneath it now. "They're hitting the karaoke bar. Now."
Taeyang's pulse thrummed in his ears. The air around him seemed to change, charged with something heavy and electric.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, stared at Daehyun for a moment.
Then he grinned.
A slow, sharp thing.
"Then let's go."
.
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Basically just a hype/aura farming chapter as a prelude to the actual final battles, that's why it's a tad short.
Didn't know Kangjun was goated like that.
Anyways, you guys know the drill.
200 power stones and extra chapter. Every 50 power stones after that, extra chapter.
Giseok vs Taeyang round 2 incoming.