Lookism: King's Ascension

The tall guy didn't come with them.

In the end, Jeongdu led the squad out, and Taeyang followed, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

Before they left, they were given a choice… pick a weapon. 

Some took brass knuckles, slipping them over their fingers like they were second skin. Others hefted metal pipes, letting the weight of the steel rest against their shoulders.

Taeyang even saw one guy… someone with a weak chin but a mean glare… shove a solid brick into his pocket like he knew exactly how to use it.

Taeyang picked the wooden bat.

The weight of it felt reassuring in his hands, heavier than the metal pipes. More solid. More real. 

His grip tightened around the handle, fingers pressing into the grain of the wood. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could survive with just his fists.

Tension thickened in the air as they moved.

He wasn't the only one who knew what had happened to Jeongdu's last squad.

Destroyed.

Not just beaten. Not just injured. Destroyed.

Some sent straight to the ICU, others barely crawling out of the wreckage with bones shattered and faces barely recognizable. And now… now it was their turn to step into Uiwang.

Taeyang swallowed hard, gripping the bat like a lifeline as he followed behind the others, trying his best to blend in. But it was obvious—he didn't belong here. The way they looked at him, the small glances of doubt, the whispers barely hidden under their breath.

He won't last.

What's Jeongdu thinking bringing a deadweight?

He clenched his jaw and kept walking. He had no intention of leaving, not when he had no other choice.

The streets grew quieter as they neared the edge of Anyang. The warehouse district sat at the border, and beyond that, just a few minutes' walk away, was Uiwang.

People had already cleared out.

Doors locked, windows shut, streets empty. The city had learned to recognize when trouble was brewing.

The fights happened at this hour.

And the police? They weren't coming. They never did.

They had other places to be.

Jeongdu stopped at an intersection, turning his head slightly, eyes scanning the area before speaking. His voice was low, measured, but there was an edge to it.

"Suwon's already made a move. The other teams say they've been pushing in since last week." He looked over his shoulder. "We're walking straight into a warzone. Anyone who wants to back out, do it now."

No one moved.

Not because they weren't afraid… everyone was. The silence was thick with it. But turning back wasn't an option. Not really.

Desertion wasn't forgiven.

They all knew what happened to those who tried to run.

Taeyang stayed put, his knuckles white against the bat.

Jeongdu's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Good."

And they followed.

It was a quiet few minutes.

They turned the corner onto a wider street, their footsteps echoing off the cracked pavement. The tension in the air shifted… sharpened.

Taeyang saw them immediately.

A group of punks, scattered along the sidewalk and near the entrance of a run-down building, hauling crates and moving boxes inside. Their uniforms were different… blue blazers with yellow linings, grey trousers. Suwon.

The enemy.

Some had discarded their shirts, muscles on display, skin glistening with sweat. They weren't just moving supplies… they were securing territory. Settling in.

Weapons were within arm's reach.

Metal bats leaning against walls. Knives tucked into waistbands. A few had chains wrapped around their fists, links rattling as they adjusted their grips.

They weren't expecting a fight.

Not yet.

Jeongdu came to a slow stop, and so did the rest of the squad. No one spoke. No one needed to.

Taeyang could hear the distant hum of a streetlamp flickering, the rustling of cardboard as one of the Suwon guys wiped his hands on his trousers.

Then, one of them looked up.

He froze.

His gaze locked onto Jeongdu first… then shifted to the rest of them. Recognition.

For a moment, the world stood still.

Then, Jeongdu cracked his neck.

"We're not backing down. Fight."

Jeongdu's words had barely left his mouth before their squad surged forward.

Taeyang didn't roar. He didn't scream.

He only ran when they ran.

And they slammed into the wall of bodies.

The first collision was brutal… flesh against flesh, the sickening crunch of bone on bone.

Taeyang felt the impact before he could even register who he had crashed into, his bat still gripped tight in his hands.

A shoulder rammed into his chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him, but he gritted his teeth and forced his feet to stay planted. 

Around him, chaos erupted.

The street turned into a battlefield.

The crack of metal against skulls. 

The thunk of fists meeting flesh. 

The dull thud of bodies hitting the pavement.

Someone to his right screamed… a high-pitched, broken sound that was cut short by a sickening thud.

Taeyang barely had time to register it before a Suwon guy lunged at him, swinging a pipe straight for his ribs.

Instinct took over.

He threw himself back, the pipe whistling past his stomach, missing by inches. His grip tightened around the bat, and before he could second-guess himself, he swung.

The bat connected with the guy's arm.

A solid, meaty smack.

Wooden baseball bats were heavy.

The Suwon bastard hissed, stumbling back, clutching his forearm where the bat had landed. But he didn't go down. His face twisted in rage, and he came at Taeyang again… this time with a knife.

Taeyang's stomach dropped.

Too fast.

The blade flashed.

He barely managed to twist his torso, feeling the air shift as the knife sliced past his side, close enough that he swore he felt the wind off the edge.

Move. Move. Move.

He didn't hesitate this time. He swung again, aiming for the ribs. Harder. Faster.

The bat slammed into the guy's side with a dull, wet crack.

A gasp. A stagger.

Taeyang didn't stop.

He lifted the bat and brought it down—once, twice, three times—until the Suwon guy crumpled, groaning, his knife clattering to the pavement.

Panting, Taeyang stepped back, chest heaving, adrenaline screaming through his veins.

He did it.

He put someone down.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

A fist caught him from behind.

His skull snapped forward. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and his legs nearly gave out beneath him.

Pain flared across the back of his head, hot and sharp, and before he could recover, hands grabbed at his collar, yanking him back.

A knee drove into his stomach.

He choked, the wind forced from his lungs in a painful gasp.

The world blurred. He barely registered the face of the guy who had him… a stocky Suwon bastard with brass knuckles.

"Fuck—"

Another fist came at his face, and this time, Taeyang wasn't fast enough to dodge.

His head snapped sideways. His lip split open, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

His knees buckled.

The guy grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. "You little—"

Taeyang didn't let him finish.

He drove his bat upward.

It caught the guy right under the jaw.

A sickening crack.

The bastard's teeth clacked together, his head jerking back violently. His grip on Taeyang loosened for half a second—half a second too long.

Taeyang shoved him.

The stocky kid stumbled, his balance lost—and Taeyang took the chance.

He raised the bat again, this time with everything he had. He couldn't afford to hold back. Not when he could die.

And it was either them… or him.

A clean, brutal swing.

The sound it made was wrong.

Something inside Taeyang shook, palpitations.

The guy went down.

Didn't move.

Taeyang's breath burned in his throat, his pulse hammering against his skull as the chaos raged around him.

Jeongdu was an unstoppable force—elbows, fists, knees—a living battering ram tearing through Suwon's ranks.

Taeyang could only stare, panting, as Jeongdu grabbed a Suwon guy by the neck, hoisting him clean off the ground before hurling him into a stack of wooden crates.

CRACK!

The sound wasn't just from the wood breaking.

The Suwon kid didn't get up.

But Taeyang's attention snapped away when he spotted something worse.

One of theirs, a lanky kid from their squad, was down. Face in the dirt. Not moving.

And standing over him... 

A Suwon bastard with chains wrapped tight around his fists, the metal links draped between his fingers like a whip. His lip curled as he raised his arm, ready to bring it down on the kid's skull.

He's going to kill him.

Something inside Taeyang moved before his mind could.

Run.

His feet pushed off the pavement before he could second-guess himself, his bat tight in his grip, sweat-slicked and shaking.

He swung.

The bat whistled through the air—

And the chain bastard turned at the last second.

A sharp, metallic blur.

Pain.

It was like being hit by a truck.

Something hot exploded across Taeyang's stomach, and his swing died mid-air.

The next second, he was on his knees.

He didn't even see what happened.

Didn't see the chain move.

Didn't see the punch coming.

Just felt the world tilt as his ribs screamed.

Then came the second hit.

A fist, wrapped in chains, crashed into his jaw. Hard.

The ground rushed up to meet him, and then he was face down on the pavement, tasting blood.

Everything spun.

The pain was distant at first, but then it flooded in. Like a fire beneath his skin, like a hammer cracking through his bones.

Taeyang gasped, but the next hit knocked the air straight out of him.

The chain slammed into his ribs again—thud! left, thud! right, crack! left again.

He tried to move.

Tried to roll away.

But a boot crushed into his back, pinning him down.

A low chuckle. "Stupid bastard."

And then the chain wrapped around his throat.

Tight.

The cold metal bit into his skin, pressing against his windpipe, squeezing harder.

His vision blurred.

His limbs thrashed, but there was nothing. His bat was gone, his hands were weak, his strength drained.

He couldn't breathe.

He was going to die here.

A deep, gravelly voice cut through the haze.

"Get the fuck off him."

Then—

CRASH!

The weight disappeared.

The chain snapped free.

Taeyang gasped, choking on air. His lungs sucked in breath like he had been drowning, his body trembling, sweat and blood mixing beneath him.

His vision swam as he turned his head.

Jeongdu stood over him.

The chain guy was down. Unmoving.

A single punch.

Jeongdu had crushed him in one blow.

He exhaled, shaking his head. Then he looked down at Taeyang.

His vision blurred, his expression unreadable.

Jeongdu clicked his tongue, leaving his thoughts unsaid.

But Taeyang knew it nonetheless.

He was weak.

Taeyang coughed, blood splattering onto the pavement. His body ached, his ribs screaming with every breath, but he forced himself to move.

He forced himself to his feet, his breath ragged, ribs screaming with every movement. His fingers twitched, searching for his bat… his only lifeline in this chaos, but it was too far.

Out of reach.

Thump.

Thump.

A sound… footsteps. Heavy. Purposeful.

Coming from the building.

The fighting didn't stop, but it felt like everything else did. Even Jeongdu tensed.

Taeyang turned his head, and his stomach dropped.

A figure stepped into the street, backlit by the dim yellow glow of the warehouse lights.

He was huge.

Built like a brick wall, broad shoulders stretching the seams of his Suwon uniform, his blazer tight over his chest, the buttons barely holding. Unlike the others, he wore the full set… the white dress shirt, the navy-blue blazer with yellow linings, the grey trousers… even though it clung to his frame like it would tear apart if he moved wrong.

And his face… 

His face was familiar.

Somewhere, deep in Taeyang's memories. A name, a face, blurred by time, by the haze of the future he had glimpsed.

A ghost of recognition clawed at the edges of his mind.

And then Jeongdu's voice roared through the battlefield.

"SEOKDU WANG!"

The moment the name left Jeongdu's mouth, something clicked.

A memory. A flash of the future.

Seokdu Wang.

The name that would one day send fear rippling through Samuel Seo and Eli Jang.

The King of Suwon.

The monster who, in the years to come, would carve his name into the streets with blood and fire.

But right now, he was just a high schooler.

A high schooler built like a fucking beast.

Seokdu cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, his sharp eyes locking onto Jeongdu. His face was eerily calm, measured, not a trace of excitement or fear.

And then he lifted his hands, curling his fingers into loose fists and raising his head.

Jeongdu grinned, baring his teeth like an animal catching the scent of food.

The ground beneath them felt heavier. Like gravity itself was pressing down.

No words were exchanged.

There was no need.

Then—

They moved

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Damn, I wonder how many people died.

I tried to write this imagining the perspective of an average gang member.