Black Market Debut
A car resembling his father's Humvee, the U.S. military tactical vehicle, powered through the city streets with a roar.
"Where are we going?"
"The training ground."
"...Isn't Cheonhondan a left turn?"
"The real training ground."
His father grinned.
Choi Muhyun felt an inexplicable chill at that smile. Whenever his father smiled like that, something always went wrong.
The car pulled up in the parking lot in front of an ordinary commercial building. His father crossed the street and headed inside. Choi Muhyun tilted his head in confusion and followed.
Down to the basement.
Deeper into the boiler room, two burly men in suits stood waiting. Spotting his father, they snapped to attention and stepped aside.
They entered a small room, revealing an elevator mounted on the wall.
An elevator in a boiler room?
Choi Min-su pressed the button and turned to his son.
"How's your body holding up?"
"...Good."
"That's a relief."
His father grinned again.
"What's this about?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
The elevator doors slid open. His father stepped in first. Choi Muhyun pulled out his phone, fiddled with it, and followed.
"Should I call Mom?"
His son poked at his father's weak spot.
"If you want to be a coward, go ahead."
His father struck back at his son's.
The elevator plunged downward, deeper and deeper. At basement level 7, the doors finally opened.
A wave of stifling heat rushed in. And then... a thunderous roar of cheers crashed over them.
His father strode down the corridor. Choi Muhyun scanned his surroundings warily as he trailed behind.
Moments later, a massive arena came into view. Hundreds packed the stands, screaming down at the action below.
In the circular ring, two men were locked in combat.
Crack.
The sound carried all the way up.
Choi Muhyun flinched. Bones shattered as an arm bent completely backward.
The arena erupted in cheers that shook the stands. No one condemned the brutal strike.
"This is an underground fight club."
"...Underground? You mean...?"
"Right. The real deal, run by the Black Market."
"If the Dungeon Association finds out..."
"You think they don't know?"
"Huh?"
"You're still so naive. Then again, you should be at your age. Don't worry about the Association. Don't you want to get stronger?"
"...Yeah, I do."
Choi Muhyun meant it. Yoo Min-jeong was off in Ecuador, Kim Jun training with the master, and Yeom Sang-taek learning magic from the Crazy Buffer—they'd all grow tremendously.
Just then, the man with the broken arm collapsed unconscious.
The match was over.
The crowd split: cheers for the victor, jeers for the loser.
"Win money, feel good. Lose it, turn savage. Human psychology is simple."
"...Gambling?"
"Exactly."
"Get ready now."
"Ready?"
"Oh, didn't I mention?"
"......"
His body trembled. He wanted to cover his ears and run from whatever came next. But that would brand him a coward in his father's eyes.
"You're up next."
Choi Muhyun closed his eyes.
Skan gazed approvingly at his reflection in the mirror. This muscular physique, honed through endless effort, dominated not just dungeons but underground arenas too.
7-0, with 6 KOs.
7 KOs would have been perfect, but one stubborn bastard ruined the 100% knockout streak.
Whatever. Keep winning, keep knocking them out cold, and the crowds would roar.
"Who's the opponent?"
"A debut rookie."
The manager answered.
"A rookie?"
Skan smirked. A first-timer in the pit? Time to give him a taste. He could ride this streak to 10 wins easy.
"Still, be careful."
That smirk vanished.
"Me? Against some punk kid?"
"...He's Choi Min-su's son."
"What?"
Skan's eyes bulged.
"From Cheonhondan."
"Choi Min-su's kid is really facing me?"
"So take it seriously."
"Hahaha, got it. Real serious. I said I got it."
Skan burst into laughter.
"Blue corner! He's built his rep in the night world, unofficially smashed ten opponents flat, and vows to pulverize anyone with his fists—a challenger overflowing with destructive will! Dog! Smash!"
The announcer's intro drew laughs from the crowd. All because of the name: Dog Smash.
Choi Muhyun walked to the center like a country bumpkin gawking around. Hundreds of eyes on him—it felt unreal.
"Check out that mask!"
"Doggy! Doggy!"
People stomped and howled with laughter.
Choi Muhyun gave a bitter smile. If he'd refused the bulldog mask his father offered, he wouldn't look this ridiculous.
"Red corner! 7-0 with 6 KOs, the rising sun of the pit who sends foes to the hospital—nicknamed '119' for the ambulances he calls! Skan!"
A hulking man strode out amid cheers, waving to the crowd. His mask depicted a blazing sun.
Choi Muhyun scanned the stands for his father but couldn't spot him in the sea of faces. He was watching from somewhere.
He had to win. Show his father just how much stronger he'd gotten.
Then his vision darkened.
A solid kick to the shin.
He tumbled back, sprang up instinctively—only to eat a gut shot.
His back arched.
Choi Muhyun searched for the announcer. Already gone. Naive to expect an official start gong here.
This is the pit. A lawless jungle where might makes right. Get your head straight.
His opponent was seasoned. Knew how to fight, chain combos, drive impacts deep.
Dozens of icy needles pierced muscle and organs. That's when Choi Muhyun realized.
This energy... it's metal attribute. He's a Raider too.
He rose slowly, spotting Skan waving to the crowd across the ring.
To him, Choi Muhyun was just another easy mark.
He spat blood-flecked saliva.
Moves are fast, alright. Dealer type. Not a tanker with that power. If Dad swung for real, my jaw would've been dust.
Suddenly, a memory from four years ago flashed.
An empty lot, a favor, boredom. First met Kim Jun—skinny kid, figured one punch. But in front of watching peers, they scrapped over an hour without a finish.
No Raider skills, but that honed body packed superhuman force.
Yet Kim Jun endured, even landing spine-chilling counters that forced Choi Muhyun back.
That day, he couldn't make Kim Jun kneel.
That day, he gained his first normal friend.
His combos are nothing compared to Kim Jun's. That guy was... insanely fast. No, not fast—he predicted and dodged everything.
Choi Muhyun raised guards like a boxer, crouching low.
"Oh ho."
Eyes behind the sun mask smirked. Looking down on him.
Choi Muhyun planned to take a few hits. Read the patterns, then counter.
Thud. Thud.
Fists hammered his side.
Painful enough to choke breath, but bearable. As a tanker, he'd trained body and martial arts. Just endure for now.
"Not bad, rookie."
Skan started circling with footwork. Proper boxing steps.
Jabs peppered his guard. Heavy even for jabs.
Choi Muhyun yielded ground but blocked clean hits.
"How's your old man?"
Choi Muhyun startled.
Guard slipped—straight right to the face.
He staggered but absorbed it.
"Well, well. Just like Choi Min-su's boy."
Skan prowled like a shark, grinning.
Thud. Thud.
Jabs resumed.
Choi Muhyun advanced step by step, but Skan slipped aside or behind with a laugh when in range.
"Heard you got kicked from Cheonhondan for causing trouble?"
Skan needled him.
"N-no way."
Focus shattered. One-two straight landed. As guard rose, Skan burrowed in with an uppercut.
The massive fist clipped his chin clean.
Back arched, Choi Muhyun crumpled slowly.
Skan raised his hand—the pit exploded. Some stomped in glee.
The ceiling spun above Choi Muhyun. Just tilting his head spiked agony, vision blurring.
All that training, ended so pathetically.
The roaring cheers sounded like mockery.
Worse: Skan basking, arm raised to the crowd.
He could finish anytime. But he savored it. Rage boiled.
Then, piercing the cheers: a faint tsk tsk.
Dad...
A miracle happened.
Vision shaking, body screaming—he stood. No, his body rose on its own.
Cheers swelled.
Skan turned, smirked at the feeble lamb.
"Easier to stay down."
Skan closed in.
Left jabs chained.
Sudden right hook.
One-two straight into left hook.
Choi Muhyun took it like a heavy bag. Swings whiffed—Skan already gone. Superior skill and speed.
The limit hit.
Legs buckled. Blood from split brow obscured vision. Jaw shocks doubled, tripled Skan.
Skan was right. Staying down meant no pain.
Not too late. Lie on this soft mat—no more hurt. Just endure Dad's sneer forever.
A smile more painful than agony.
Guards bruised purple long ago. Side throbbed relentlessly.
One more hit, and he'd never rise.
Straight punch incoming.
Beyond it: Skan's eyes, certain of victory. Cold, cruel—not human, beastly. Monster-like.
This guy's like a Wireth Saurus.
Then, the voice.
"Right turn."
Unconsciously, left foot pivoted—body spun right. Skan whipped past his nose.
Quick scan: stunned. Yoo Min-jeong left diagonal, Yeom Sang-taek right, Kim Jun behind.
Choi Muhyun shook his head hard. They faded away.
"Oh ho, still got fight? True son of Choi Min-su."
Skan danced in with jabs, then one-two straight.
Left turn—dodged.
No voice this time. Instinct from training kicked in at crisis. The uppercut had shaken his brain, triggering the command and visions.
He ate jabs but evaded straights and uppercuts.
Skan's breaths grew ragged.
This bastard's tough. Should've dropped ten times by now.
No openings now. Taunts about his dad fell flat.
The crowd noticed. Cheers shifted to Dog Smash.
Drag it out, risk embarrassment. Skan steeled himself.
Having to use Anaconda Choke on this punk. Guess even cubs are lions.
Skan's right jab morphed mid-flight. Fist opened, snaked around Choi Muhyun's arm like a viper. Icy metal clamped—crack, bone snapped.
Pain snapped focus. He saw the left uppercut coming.
Chin seconds from impact—he jerked head back, dispersing force. Skan's slowed from fatigue.
"Huff huff, dumb brute like your old man."
Skan charged, fist thrusting.
Choi Muhyun chained left-right turns, dodging. Misaligned left arm screamed, but bearable.
Why keep bringing up Dad? To rattle me? Worked at first, but he knows it doesn't now.
One conclusion. Speculation, but if true, he could turn it around.