Lookism: King's Ascension

Taeyang barely slept.

The warehouse was gone, the blood had dried, and the adrenaline had long since faded, but the feeling hadn't. It sat deep in his chest like a coal, smoldering.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling of his one-room apartment. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching with a phantom impulse—one he didn't fully understand yet.

The rush.

The high of it.

That moment when everything else disappeared… when the weight of his past, the uncertainty of the future, all the noise in between… just vanished.

Gone. Erased in the white-hot clarity of the fight. 

That split-second before impact, where the world stood still. The dull shock that rattled through his bones. The brief, breathless pause between pain and triumph.

He hadn't known.

Hadn't realized it was something a person could feel.

That he could feel it.

And now, it was all he could think about.

His body was wrecked… bruised ribs, stiff shoulders, knuckles scraped raw… but he didn't care. 

If anything, the pain only sharpened the memory, made it more vivid. The sensation of swinging that bat. The way it cracked against flesh and bone. The way his own body had taken hits.

It had felt right.

It had felt good.

Taeyang let out a slow breath, pressing a hand against his forehead. 

He wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't normal. He should be panicking, or at least feeling some kind of fear. But all he felt was anticipation.

The fight at the warehouse had only been the beginning.

He needed more.

But first, there was something else he needed to think about.

Now that he had time to sit with his thoughts, to really think… he needed to ask himself the question he had been pushing aside since the moment he woke up in this world.

Why was he here?

There was a past life. He knew that much. He could feel it, just at the edges of his mind, like trying to hold onto smoke. Flickers of something… of someone… before he ended up in this place. It wasn't just déjà vu. It wasn't some random stroke of luck.

He'd been thrown into this world somehow.

If so, that meant gods were real. That meant there was some kind of grand design behind all this. But if that was the case, why this? Why here?

No. Taeyang shook his head. If he let himself spiral down that rabbit hole, he'd never come back out.

Instead, he needed to focus on what was in front of him.

Lookism.

He knew this world.

He didn't remember every detail, but he knew enough. 

The First Generation.

The only generation where Fists and Circles worked together, old-school gangsters recruiting students like rabid dogs to throw into their street wars. The remnants of Gapryong Kim's empire still fought over scraps of his power, still clawing at each other for dominance.

And Gapryong Kim himself?

Still alive.

Taeyang had checked. The man still made headlines, still had influence, still had enemies in both high and low places. But not for much longer. He knew what would happen. Knew how this story ended.

Gapryong Kim would die.

Killed by his own son, Gitae Kim. Something he would accomplish with Charles Choi and James Lee.

Why?

That was the part Taeyang couldn't remember.

What he did know was that, in the grand scheme of things, Gapryong's death didn't change much. Not in the short term. 

The First Generation's war would keep raging. The fights, the betrayals, the bloodshed… it would all keep going.

But could he change it?

Taeyang exhaled, staring at his ceiling.

Would he even want to?

The thought twisted something deep inside him. The idea of changing things. Of reaching that high, that level, where the world shifted at his command. Could he do it? Could he reach the top of this world?

It wasn't impossible.

He was weak but… not completely. Sure, he didn't have the technique, the experience, or the years of training like some of the monsters that roamed this world, but he had something else.

He had drive.

He had this feeling inside him, this need that was only growing stronger by the second.

And he wasn't starting from nothing. He was already here, already in the middle of it. Already part of the Circle.

They had expected him to break. To fail.

Instead, he had stood up, wiped the blood from his mouth, and asked for the next fight.

Because he had to see.

Had to know how far he could go.

Had to chase that feeling.

The only thing left to do was figure out where.

He couldn't just wait around for Minho and Jeongdu to throw him into another fight. That wasn't enough. He needed more. Needed something now.

But where could he find it?

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***

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Taeyang stepped through the school gates, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed.

It was late but not too late. Just late enough for most students to already be inside, just late enough that the ones he was looking for would still be hanging around.

He didn't come here for lessons.

No one expected him to.

The teachers barely paid attention to the students who actually tried… so for someone like him? Someone who hadn't stepped inside a classroom in weeks? They weren't going to say shit.

Not out of laziness.

Out of fear.

This place wasn't run by teachers. It wasn't run by some class president or whatever bullshit student council was supposed to exist.

It was run by the people strong enough to take it.

And Taeyang wasn't here to study.

He was here to fight.

His body still ached from last night. Bruises darkened his ribs, his back, his arms, but the pain didn't bother him. 

He had fought. He had bled. He had stood up again.

And now, he wanted more.

He made his way down the hallways, ignoring the occasional glance from students. It wasn't like he was some legend or anything… he hadn't been here long enough for that. 

Taeyang wasn't afraid.

He didn't need to be.

The rooftop was his destination. 

He already knew who hung out there… who had always hung out there. The ones who skipped class just because they could. The ones who shook down weaker kids for lunch money, who smoked cheap cigarettes, who thought they were untouchable just because no one had ever called them on their bullshit.

They weren't real fighters.

But they'd do.

Taeyang pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped outside.

The sun was bright, casting sharp shadows across the rooftop. The air smelled like stale cigarettes and instant ramen. 

A small group of guys leaned against the railing, talking loudly, laughing about something that probably wasn't even funny.

They looked up when they saw him.

Frowns. Annoyance. Confusion.

One of them stepped forward… tall, lean, a buzzcut that made him look more like a delinquent than he probably was.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Buzzcut asked.

Taeyang didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Instead, he just kept walking, slow and steady, until he was close enough to see the irritation flicker into something else. Something wary.

"You lost or something?" one of the others sneered. "You don't come up here."

They were right. He didn't.

But he was here now.

Taeyang stopped a few feet away, rolling his shoulders, testing the stiffness in his arms. Then he spoke, voice calm, slightly shaking.

"Let's fight."

The rooftop went silent.

The group of guys exchanged glances, then looked back at him, like they weren't sure if they'd heard correctly.

"What?" Buzzcut blinked.

"You heard me." Taeyang flexed his fingers, his knuckles still scabbed from the night before. "Let's fight."

A beat of silence.

Then laughter.

It wasn't surprising. They thought it was a joke. Some random kid just walking up and challenging them out of nowhere? It was funny to them.

"What, you get hit in the head too hard or something?" one of them snickered. "You think you're some tough guy now?"

Taeyang didn't say anything.

Didn't need to.

Instead, he just moved.

His fist cracked against the guy's cheek before he even finished talking.

CRACK!

The laughter stopped.

The guy stumbled back, hand flying to his face, eyes wide in shock.

And then the others jumped him.

That was fine. That was exactly what he wanted.

It wasn't a fair fight. It was never going to be. But that didn't matter.

Taeyang wasn't here to win.

He was here to fight.

The next hit slammed into his side, knocking the breath from his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. 

His ribs screamed in protest, but he took it. 

Thud!

Another strike, a fist driving into his gut, forcing his body to curl inward… but before he could even process it, another blow cracked against his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

A foot hooked around his ankle, trying to sweep him off his feet. He staggered but didn't fall.

The world blurred for a second. His ears rang. His body ached. But none of that mattered.

Because this… this—was what he came for.

CRACK!

The sound stopped.

The guy stumbled back, hand flying to his face, eyes wide in shock.

And then the others jumped him.

That was fine.

That was exactly what he wanted.

They swung, fast and rough, but Taeyang didn't flinch. He weaved, let the first punch skim past his ear, then buried his own fist into someone's ribs.

A choked gasp. A body doubling over.

Another one lunged at him… Taeyang pivoted, grabbed the guy's collar, and slammed his forehead against his nose.

CRUNCH!

A pained yell. Blood.

They weren't fighters.

They were bullies.

They had never fought someone who fought back.

Not like this.

They had never felt what it was like to get hit with full force. Never tasted blood in their mouths from a punch meant to break, not just intimidate. Never had to deal with someone who didn't hesitate.

Someone who didn't hold back.

They panicked.

One of them grabbed him from behind, locking his arms.

Taeyang threw his head back, slamming into the guy's face.

CRACK!

A yell. Arms loosening. Taeyang twisted free, elbowed the guy across the jaw, then drove a knee into his stomach for good measure.

Someone cursed… he turned just in time to see Buzzcut charging at him.

Too slow.

Taeyang ducked, surged forward, and tackled him to the ground.

And that's when something snapped.

A switch flipped inside him.

He had fought before, but not like this.

This wasn't just a fight anymore.

Something deeper, something raw, something primal took over.

His fingers curled into claws. His nails dug into flesh.

He raked them down Buzzcut's face, leaving deep red lines. The guy screamed, thrashing beneath him, but Taeyang didn't stop.

Didn't want to stop.

The taste of blood was already in his mouth, but it wasn't his this time. He didn't even remember when it happened… maybe when he had bitten down into the shoulder of the guy trying to choke him out.

Teeth tearing through skin. The salty tang of flesh.

Buzzcut punched wildly, trying to push him off. Taeyang caught his wrist and bit down.

CRUNCH!

Hard.

A howl of pain.

The other two rushed forward to pull him off, but he turned on them, still crouched over their friend like some feral creature.

One of them hesitated.

The other took one look at Taeyang's bloodied mouth, the wild, glowing look in his eyes, and stumbled backward.

Too late.

Taeyang pounced.

His knee drove into the guy's gut, sending him crashing to the ground, gasping for breath. A wild punch, a kick to the ribs… Taeyang didn't even register how many times he struck before the guy stopped moving.

Not dead. Not even unconscious. Just curled up, moaning, done.

The last one… the first guy he had punched… was trying to crawl away, dragging himself toward the stairwell. 

Taeyang grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him onto his back.

The guy yelped, hands raised.

"Please—please, stop—"

Taeyang didn't hear him.

Or maybe he did, but he didn't care.

His chest heaved. His body screamed. His knuckles were raw, his nails stained red.

But he wasn't done.

Not yet.

One more hit.

Just one more.

His fist rose—

And then he paused.

The guy flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

Taeyang stared down at him, at the bruises darkening his skin, at the way his arms trembled as he shielded his face.

For a second, a flicker of a memory—one that wasn't his.

A boy, curled up in an alley. Another standing over him, fist raised high.

A cycle.

Taeyang lowered his hand.

Not because he had mercy.

Because it was over.

Because he had won.

A slow, shaky exhale left his lips.

Then… silence.

The only sounds left were the ragged breathing of the beaten bodies around him. Groans of pain. Weak, shuddering gasps.

One unconscious.

Two broken.

And him.

Taeyang sat back on his heels, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, smearing blood across his skin. His fingers still twitched. His muscles still hummed.

His limbs were heavy. His body hurt. He could feel every bruise, every cut, every aching muscle screaming in protest.

But the rush hadn't left yet.

It lingered, curling inside his chest, warm and electric.

For the first time, he wasn't in pain.

For the first time, he felt—

Alive.

His lips curled into a slow, bloodstained grin.

And for the first time, he let himself bask in it.

The feeling of winning.

Of being the one still standing.

He let his head fall back, the air cool against his burning skin.

And he laughed.

A low, breathy chuckle that built into something real.

Something raw.

Something almost wild.

This feeling.

This rush.

This fire in his veins.

He would chase this forever.

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Long chap for you guys. Honestly just wanted my boy to properly win a fight for once but I may have slightly overdone it. Just a tad bit.

But is he controlling the animal? Or is the animal controlling him... ooohhhh spoookyyyy

Anyways you probably want pictures of the characters so here you go. I'll post one each chapter.

The first one you're getting is Jeongdu.

If you've read my other fic you probably know that I don't like grabbing random pics from the internet and instead draw them myself.

So that's exactly what I did.

Here.

Please do enjoy.

Patreon: Teddartic