Silence filled the atmosphere at the center of the cave. Although the last match had started, but almost nobody cared. Two low-ranked kids fighting — what was there to see?
But even though there was nothing interesting to watch, the eyes of Mia were locked on Hyeolmu, who stood in a battle stance on the stage. Her smile was faint but sharp. "He's more talented than I thought," she whispered, her voice soft enough to be swallowed by the noise.
On the stage, Hyeolmu stood in silence, his body tense but focused. Even in rage, he kept his cool. His opponent, Park, smirked like a man who had already written the ending of this story.
"Looks like you weren't just playing around these past two weeks. No wonder I never saw you…" Park spat spitefully. He had expected to knock Hyeolmu out in one blow; he never imagined him moving so quickly and efficiently. It was as if this wasn't the same Hyeolmu from two weeks ago.
"Don't worry. You'll die soon. It's not like you can keep up with those tricks forever…" he said with a smirk before rushing in once more — this time far stronger than before.
It was as though he was racing against time — fast, brutal, confident.
The first punch slammed against Hyeolmu's guard, followed by another, and another.
Each hit sounded like a hammer striking wet stone.
Hyeolmu gritted his teeth, blocking, stepping back — the shock running through his arms until his bones screamed.
He didn't have time to breathe.
"Look at you," Park's voice oozed with mockery as he kept swinging. "You're still weak. Just like your father."
His next punch cracked against Hyeolmu's ribs, forcing a cough of blood.
"Like father, like son," Park laughed. "No wonder he died! Couldn't even fight back!"
"Don't worry, I'll send you to meet him soon."
The crowd murmured as attention started to rise, different voices echoing from the background — not out of pity, but curiosity.
To them, this was entertainment. Watching a demonic bastard suffer.
Hyeolmu's eyes trembled. The mention of his father… it hit deeper than any fist could. For a second, everything blurred — the sound of the crowd, the light above, even Park's jeering face.
He could almost hear the echo of his father's voice — calm, proud, and fading in the dark.
The pent up anger, was finally starting to get loose. He was finally becoming less of a coward and more of a fighter.
Something truly snapped inside him.
His breathing changed.
Slow at first… then deeper.
Each inhale burned his lungs like fire.
The veins along his arms began to pulse faintly red, as if his blood itself had started to glow.
Tier One — Blood Breathing.
The blood in his veins rushed like a wild river. Qi began to flow faster, sharper — feeding every muscle, every nerve. The pain in his arms faded, replaced by a heavy heat, steady and alive.
Park moved in for another hit, the same way he had been doing all match — confident, careless.
But this time… Hyeolmu was faster.
He tilted his body just slightly, letting Park's fist scrape past his cheek instead of crashing into it.
The crowd blinked — they almost didn't see it coming. No one expected the lowest-ranked child to suddenly exude such a powerful aura.
Before Park could even pull back, Hyeolmu's palm shot forward, striking his chest dead-on. The blow wasn't heavy, but precise — the kind of hit that made the air inside your lungs forget how to move.
Park staggered back a step.
"What—?" he muttered, more confused than hurt.
Hyeolmu didn't reply. His breathing grew louder, steady, like a heartbeat echoing across the hall. His eyes had changed — no longer dull and afraid, but burning faintly red.
Park snarled, shaking it off. "Don't get cocky, you son of a bitch!" he roared before rushing in again, swinging wildly.
But now, Hyeolmu moved with purpose.
His hands deflected, not blocked.
His body weaved around each strike, his feet sliding lightly across the floor.
It wasn't power that changed — it was rhythm. The tempo.
His blood and breath had become one.
"What is this martial art technique? Why does it seem so powerful?" someone in the audience whispered.
Park grunted, frustration building. Each time he thought he had him, Hyeolmu slipped away like smoke. Then a small strike landed — a sharp elbow, a knuckle jab, a quick kick to the knee. Nothing fatal, but enough to leave marks.
The crowd leaned forward.
Hyeolmu could feel it too — that shift. The tide of battle slowly, painfully turning in his favor.
His chest burned with a mixture of both happiness and anger, but the pain was alive. It told him he was still standing.
Park grunted, frustration building. Each time he thought he had him, Hyeolmu slipped away like smoke. Then a small strike landed — a sharp elbow, a knuckle jab, a quick kick to the knee. Nothing fatal, but enough to leave marks.
The crowd leaned forward.
Hyeolmu could feel it too — that shift. The tide of battle slowly, painfully turning in his favor.
His chest burned with a mixture of both happiness and anger, but the pain was alive. It told him he was still standing.
Park spat blood and glared. "You bastard! You think you can beat me with this?!"
Hyeolmu raised his gaze, his expression calm — too calm. "No," he said quietly. "I just need you to remember who you're talking to, show some respect you f*cker."
For the first time, Park felt it — a weight pressing down on him. Not from Hyeolmu's strength, but from something deeper, darker. A killing intent that wasn't learned… it was born.
The crowd went silent again.
Mia's smile deepened. "It's already over," she whispered.
The air trembled faintly as both boys stood at the center of the stage — one trembling with rage, the other breathing steadily, veins glowing faintly red beneath his skin.
And for the first time since the match began, it wasn't clear who would fall next. It was a close match, with both of them neck and neck — though Hyeolmu seemed to have far more control, far more composure than Park.
"Seems like you're more of a fighter than the bastard you call your father. At least you know how to punch. Guess your mother knows how to open her legs better than she can hold a sword! Hahaha!" Park laughed, blood dripping from his mouth — his voice filled with both spite and madness.
Finally, as though the dormant anger that had just started to calm down flared back to life — this time far stronger than before.
Blood Arts, Third Form: Blood Spike.
Suddenly, strong spikes glowing crimson began to pierce outward from within Park's body, stabbing through him continuously with every passing second.
And as for Hyeolmu, his eyes glowed blood-red during the process. It was as though something within him had awakened — something undeniably powerful.
"Park, in your next life, try not to meet me again. I wouldn't want to kill a baby, right?" Hyeolmu said coldly before the final spike burst through Park's heart, killing him instantly.
Standing there, the awakened Hyeolmu — looking more like a possessed demon than a boy — remained still, his gaze fixed on Mia, smiling faintly like a devil. Then, his body collapsed to the ground as he passed out.
"The winner is Hyeolmu!" one of the guards shouted.
But everyone could feel it — the tension. It was as though the power balance within the cave was about to shift once more.
Even Mia wasn't smiling this time.
To be continued...