The rain showed no signs of letting up; if anything, the downpour grew heavier.
Just as Jinrang had expected, it didn't take long for that massive silhouette to rise from the wreckage. Blood flowed from Kitae's forehead, painting a mask of red over his face. In that moment, an aura of pure despair radiated from him, heavy enough to drown the entire market.
Jinrang felt his heart seize.
'What is this feeling...?'
For a split second, he was paralyzed by absolute despair. It was as if nothing he did mattered—as if every punch he'd thrown was just a child flailing against a god. His will to fight began to flicker and wane. But then, the roar of the crowd hit him. His sheer conviction to protect his people surged back, tearing through the suffocating hopelessness.
"AAAGH!"
With a primal roar, Jinrang lunged at Kitae with every ounce of strength he had left.
Kitae just stood there. He didn't react. He didn't speak. He remained slightly hunched over, motionless as a statue.
Just as Jinrang's fist was an inch from his face, Kitae moved. It was a blur. He caught Jinrang's punch under his armpit, locking it in a vice grip. Then, Kitae finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
"Who would've thought you'd be this strong? I didn't let my guard down... yet you still managed to push me this far."
Without a hint of hesitation, Kitae wrenched his body.
CRACK!
The sound of the bone snapping was sickening. A gut-wrenching scream tore through Jinrang's throat, but he cut it short by biting into his own lip until it bled. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, veins popping across his face in an agony he refused to voice.
Kitae didn't stop. He followed up with a brutal knee directly into Jinrang's solar plexus.
"It reminds me of Mexico," Kitae muttered. "I lived there. I did whatever it took to survive."
Jinrang bent over, coughing up a thick spray of blood. Kitae slammed him face-first into the mud and pinned his broken arm behind his back.
"In Tijuana, killing was an everyday thing. It was handled like a joke. But I don't kill for fun. There's only one reason I kill. Fear."
Kitae reached for the axe on his back to finish the job, but his hand gripped empty air. He paused. "Right. I forgot. It's gone."
He looked up.
Baki was standing right in front of him, casually twirling the broken handle of the axe. "Looking for this? It's useless in its current state. Better replace it with something new."
Baki then crouched down, coming eye-level with Jinrang, who was still pinned into the dirt by Kitae's weight.
"King of Busan... what a heavy title you've got there."
Baki gave a small, grim smile, then pointed a thumb at Kitae. "I know you like to think everything happening here is your business, but sadly, this guy has my friends captured. I'd like to have a very 'in-depth' talk with him so we can reach a satisfactory agreement."
Baki stood back up, his face shifting into something predatory. The playful light in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold stare of a man who lived for the kill.
"So, what do you think, Kitae Kim? Would you prefer to talk with our fists? Just a heads-up—mine are exceptionally heavy."
Kitae Kim stood up slowly, shifting his weight until his boot was pressed firmly over Jinrang's head.
CRACK.
The concrete beneath them gave way instantly. Jinrang's face caved into the fractured ground, blood seeping out through the cracks in the pavement. Kitae looked across at Baki, his voice cold and steady.
"Fine by me. I didn't expect this guy to suddenly butt in and ruin the rhythm. Let's pick up where we left off."
Baki let out a low chuckle. He reached up, grabbing the collar of his tank top with one hand, and ripped it downward.
Tear.
The black fabric shredded in his grip, revealing a chiseled, bronze physique that looked as though it had been forged from tempered steel. Every muscle was honed to perfection, radiating a terrifying sense of explosive power.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Baki said, loosening his wrists.
Kitae didn't respond. He calmly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the rain. As he stripped to the waist, the atmosphere shifted. An immense, suffocating aura of despair began to bleed out of him—viscous and dark, like a black hole swallowing the surrounding light.
'His presence changed... it's like the air itself is getting heavier.'
Baki narrowed his eyes. The puddles around his feet began to vibrate from the sheer tension coiling in his legs.
Kitae rolled his neck, his joints popping like gunfire. He didn't settle into a refined stance; he simply stood there, projecting a nauseating sense of raw violence.
"Baki. I hope your bones are harder than that axe was."
A wild, predatory grin spread across Baki's face, his eyes igniting with a frantic battle-lust.
"Only one way to find out."
BOOM!
They moved at the exact same time.
The ground exploded under the force of their takeoff, sending mud and rainwater flying. Two blurs of motion collided in the center of the market with a bone-shaking impact.
Baki launched a heavy lead straight for Kitae's face. Kitae didn't even bother to dodge; his left hand shot out like a claw toward Baki's throat, while his right fist whistled through the air, aimed directly at Baki's ribs.
THUD!
The heavy sound of the impact echoed through the rainy night.
Neither man retreated. The sound of fists hitting meat became a frantic, rhythmic drumbeat. This was a total abandonment of defense—two monsters trading life for life.
'His punches... they're even heavier than before!'
Baki tilted his head to avoid a lethal punch from Kitae, simultaneously driving a knee upward like a piston. Kitae tanked the hit with his forearm, his body barely swaying before he answered with a crushing hook.
They traded blows with a ferocity that left the onlookers seeing nothing but a kaleidoscope of blurred limbs. Every strike was intended to kill; every movement was stripped of anything but lethal intent.
In that moment, the only sounds left in Jagalchi Market were the dull thuds of flesh on flesh and the ragged, heavy breathing of two beasts at war.