With a gray hoodie pulled loosely over his head, Jun-Hyuk jogged down the quiet street. The faint chill of the Sunday morning nipped at his skin, the early sunlight casting long shadows on the pavement. A few joggers passed him by, earbuds in and oblivious to the world around them, while the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery. Normally, Jun-Hyuk would have rather been live-streamed picking up trash off the road than heading to meet Jeong Min-Ho, the class’s top delinquent. But today wasn’t a normal day—not after everything that had happened.
He didn’t even know why he was going to see Min-Ho, only that his newfound system had popped up another mission window, offering him a measly ten points for doing so. Ten points for putting himself in the company of someone who was likely already scheming how to use him? Fantastic. He sighed, his breath forming a small puff in the cool air, and mentally conjured up the image of the floating window.
It appeared instantly, shimmering faintly in his field of vision.
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[Welcome, player, to Path of The Strongest]
[Rank: 4/5
][Strength: Level 7 out of 100]
[Agility: Level 7 out of 100]
[Skills: 3/100 Unlocked]
* Sword Style: Flaming Inferno – Level 7 out of 100
* Taekwondo – Level 10 out of 100
* Energy Manipulation – Level 7 out of 100[Weapons: 1/100+ Unlocked – DawnFire][A player may choose to level up any stat of their choosing starting at 50+ points. Bonus missions = bonus points. Ranked 1 players receive special benefits and early access.]
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Jun-Hyuk frowned as he ran, his feet pounding rhythmically against the sidewalk. He was still trying to process what it all meant. Why was he ranked 4/5? Did that mean there were four other players somewhere out there? If so, where were they—and what were they doing right now? A pang of unease settled in his chest, but he shoved it down. He couldn’t afford to overthink things.
What surprised him the most was the Taekwondo stat being his highest. Memories of dusty dojang floors and stiff white uniforms flashed in his mind—fragmented, blurry moments of his elementary and middle school days. Had he been good at it? He honestly couldn’t remember. It felt more like a past life than something that belonged to him now.
Another thing weighing on him—besides his frustration with the system—was his utter exhaustion. Jun-Hyuk hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night, and not because he didn’t want to. He physically couldn’t. The system had made it clear that the window to the other world was accessed through sleep, but since he’d apparently maxed out his twelve-hour limit in one go, he now had to wait a full twenty-four hours before he could sleep again.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. His legs carried him down the street as he rounded a corner, nearing the old basketball court where Min-Ho and his friends liked to hang out. The chain-link fence was rusty and bent in places, a sign of years of neglect. Empty soda cans and crumpled chip bags littered the pavement, and the faint echo of someone dribbling a basketball carried in the air.
Jun-Hyuk slowed his pace, adjusting the hoodie over his head to hide his face better. He clenched his fists, tension coiling in his muscles as he spotted Min-Ho lounging on one of the benches. The delinquent’s sharp eyes darted to him immediately, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back lazily, arms spread out like a king on his throne.
“Well, well,” Min-Ho called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t Mr. Weak to Strong himself.”
Jun-Hyuk forced his jaw to unclench, his feet dragging him forward despite the irritation curling in his gut. He was already regretting this decision. Today was shaping up to be a very long day.
Noticing his expression, Min-Ho chuckled, the sound low and smug. “Relax, I’m not hating. In fact, you’re actually just the person I wanted to see.”
Jun-Hyuk arched an eyebrow, determined to keep his response cool and detached. “And why’s that?”
Min-Ho grinned, the kind of grin that set Jun-Hyuk’s nerves on edge. Slowly, he slid off the bench, stretching his arms as if he had all the time in the world. “Well, Jun-Hyuk, you know how Cheongmyeong thrives on order and ranks, right? And even though Choi-Seok was pretty low on the food chain, he was still higher than you. More importantly, he was useful.”
Jun-Hyuk’s eyes narrowed. “Your point?”
Min-Ho took a step closer, the playful smirk on his face hardening ever so slightly. “The point is, if you don’t want to face backlash from the higher ranks, you’re going to have to prove yourself useful. And lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing.”
Jun-Hyuk didn’t respond, but his sharp gaze told Min-Ho to get to the point.
“Our rival school, Baekho, has been running an underground fight club. Not only have they been encroaching on our territory,” Min-Ho said, his tone dropping, “but they’ve also been forcing some of our students to participate.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, Jun-Hyuk felt a flicker of genuine concern creep into his mind. He crossed his arms, his tone careful. “And you want me to do what, exactly?”
Min-Ho shrugged. “Just teach them a little lesson and disrupt their business.”
[Mission complete! +10 points ]
[New mission: Defeat and take over Baekho’s Golden Claw Betting Ring. Completion= 70 points]
***
The afternoon sun hung low, casting an amber glow over the abandoned gymnasium Baekho used for their underground fights. The moment Jun-Hyuk stepped through the rusted double doors, his senses were bombarded. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood. The muffled roar of the crowd became a cacophony as he walked in, his sneakers crunching against a floor littered with discarded water bottles and crumpled betting slips.
Students in Baekho's school uniform—a sleek black blazer with silver trim and their emblem embroidered over the heart—packed the bleachers and crowded around the makeshift ring at the center of the room. Some were perched on railings, others standing on chairs, all shouting and jeering as two fighters slugged it out inside the ring. The ring itself was nothing more than a roped-off square of worn mats, stained with dark patches that Jun-Hyuk didn’t want to think about.
Jun-Hyuk swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the oppressive humidity of the room. His palms were slick with sweat, and he shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie to hide the trembling. He didn’t want to be here—not in this den of chaos—but the promise of 70 points loomed in his mind, tugging him forward like a puppet on a string. He gritted his teeth. He had to do this. Besides, he wasn’t weak anymore. Compared to huge wolf-moth monsters, some seventeen year old kids were nothing.
And he had a new skill.
The crowd surged as one of the fighters landed a brutal punch, sending his opponent sprawling to the ground. A deafening roar erupted, with students shoving each other to get a better view. Money exchanged hands as bets were settled, and the loser was dragged out of the ring, barely conscious.
Jun-Hyuk forced his way through the crowd, his heart pounding like a war drum. The voices around him were a blur—mocking laughter, taunts, and cries of excitement. He felt like he was drowning in noise, every step heavier than the last. When he reached the edge of the ring, he paused, his eyes locking onto the figure sitting on a metal folding chair at the back of the gym.
The man in charge.
Kang Dae-Hyun.
Even from a distance, Dae-Hyun radiated intimidation. His broad shoulders strained against the white button-down he wore beneath his Baekho blazer, the top buttons undone to reveal a hint of a jagged scar running across his chest. His arms were crossed, muscles rippling as he leaned back with an air of complete authority. His face was sharp, with a square jaw and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken—and reset—more than once. His dark eyes glinted like polished obsidian, cold and calculating, as they swept over the room. His hair was cropped short, giving him a military-like presence, and a faint smirk played at his lips as he watched the chaos unfold around him.
Jun-Hyuk’s stomach twisted, but he clenched his fists, shoving the fear down as best he could.
This guy is nothing compared to a wolf-moth, he reminded himself.
He waited for the cheers to die down, stepping over the ropes and into the ring. The crowd noticed immediately, their attention snapping to him like a pack of wolves sensing new prey. The noise dulled for a moment, replaced by murmurs and whispers.
“Who’s that?”
“Is he crazy?”
“Doesn’t look like much…”
Jun-Hyuk ignored the comments, planting his feet firmly in the center of the ring. He sucked in a shaky breath, then bellowed, his voice louder than he thought possible, “I want to fight the person in charge!”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by an uproar of disbelief and laughter. Dae-Hyun’s smirk widened, but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, his piercing gaze locking onto Jun-Hyuk like a predator sizing up its prey.
Jun-Hyuk pointed directly at him, his hand trembling despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “If I win, this betting ring belongs to me!”
The gym fell into a stunned silence, broken only by a few scattered laughs and murmurs. Dae-Hyun slowly rose to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His presence seemed to grow, the air around him heavy with menace as he made his way toward the ring. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, no one daring to get in his way.
When he stepped into the ring, the difference between them was glaring. Dae-Hyun towered over Jun-Hyuk, his frame casting a long shadow. He cracked his knuckles, the sound like gunshots in the tense silence. His voice was low and gravelly, yet it carried across the room with ease.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” Dae-Hyun said, his eyes narrowing as he sized Jun-Hyuk up. “But guts alone won’t save you.”
The crowd roared in anticipation, chanting Dae-Hyun’s name as he rolled his shoulders, loosening up. Jun-Hyuk’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, but he forced himself to meet Dae-Hyun’s gaze, refusing to back down.
“I don’t need saving,” Jun-Hyuk said, his voice firm despite the nerves threatening to consume him. “I just need to win.”
Dae-Hyun chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent chills down Jun-Hyuk’s spine. “Bold words for a dead man.”
Jun-Hyuk’s fists clenched at his sides as he stared up at Dae-Hyun, refusing to let the towering figure intimidate him. The crowd's chants faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heartbeat and the quiet hum of determination coursing through him.
He thought of the stats he had worked to unlock, the skills he had earned in the other world. Flaming Inferno. Energy Manipulation. Taekwondo. The memory of cutting down wolf-moth monsters flashed in his mind, and he forced himself to breathe steadily.
Jun-Hyuk raised his chin, his gaze steady as he met Dae-Hyun’s cold, calculating eyes. “You’re strong, but I didn’t come here to lose,” he said, his voice carrying over the jeering crowd. “Let’s see if you can handle someone who’s trained to fight monsters.”
Dae-Hyun’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, his expression hardening into something more serious. The crowd roared louder, but Jun-Hyuk barely noticed. His mind was already racing, calculating his first move, ready to prove that this fight wasn’t going to end the way anyone expected.