To Think He'd Apply It That Way
To think he'd apply it that way.
The day of the finals.
I walked toward the cage.
The roar of the crowd filled the arena. That sound, which had been nothing but alien at my debut, was starting to feel almost familiar.
I turned my back on the noise and stepped inside the cage.
Then I looked across.
Pyo Sung-ho was standing there.
He looked even bigger than he had at the weigh-in. His whole body was flushed an ugly red, veins standing out in thick cords, and his eyes glittered with a slack, unfocused sheen.
…Drugs.
Exactly as Coach Bae Jong-gap had said. The man had clearly packed something heavy into his system before climbing in.
In that state, Pyo Sung-ho fixed me with a glare and sneered.
"Here you are, monster. You put on a pretty scary act yesterday… Today, let's see how long that pretty face of yours can last."
I didn't bother answering.
Instead, I thought back to what he had said the day before.
—That girl of yours. Real piece of work. Heard she used to knock around the underground circuit? I've got plenty of big brothers who run those floors. If I feel like it, anytime—
Ordinarily, a single punch would have been enough for a guy like this.
The way it always had been. One clean, honest shot and he would have gone flying out the far side of the cage on a stretcher.
But.
…That felt far too merciful.
This was the man who had talked about putting his hands on Seo-yeon.
Sending a man like that out with one clean punch? That just didn't sit right. Not even a little.
Suddenly I thought of the training I had done with Coach Bae.
How to hit soft.
How to take the power out.
How to stop.
All this time, I had learned those techniques so I wouldn't kill anyone.
But if you thought about it—being able to not finish someone in one hit also meant you could regulate yourself just short of killing them, and thrash them as long and hard as you wanted, like beating a dog.
Honestly, for a second, I really did consider tearing him apart.
He was the one who had talked about going after Seo-yeon. Back when I was still a bear, I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have shredded him on the spot and snuffed out his breath. There was no mercy for anything that eyed your own cub.
But.
…There were too many eyes here.
Even inside the Octagon, tens of thousands of spectators were watching. Cameras ringed every side, and the feed was going out to the whole world.
If I actually tore a man apart in here, everything I had worked so hard to build would collapse in a single moment. Including the promise I had made to myself—to live as a human being.
…So tearing him to death is off the table.
The thought settled, and the corner of my mouth tugged up on its own.
Right. We'll take this slow.
One-shotting him was no longer part of the plan.
The referee's hand dropped.
Beeeeeep—!
The sound that marked the start of the bout rang through the Octagon.
The instant the referee's hand fell, Pyo Sung-ho charged forward.
The plan was simple. Overwhelm him early, seize the initiative, and ride the drugs all the way through.
No matter how strong that monster was, he was still human. Humans tired. Hang on to the end and drag him down somehow.
That was Pyo Sung-ho's plan.
…At least until he threw the first punch.
He put everything he had into a fist aimed at Han Daewong's face.
But.
The very next instant—
"…!"
Wham—!
Han Daewong's fist buried itself in Pyo Sung-ho's gut.
"Guh—!"
The air locked in his throat. A rolling, inverted nausea folded him over at the waist before he could stop himself.
But something was wrong. With that monster's power, his body should already have folded clean in half.
…Is he going easy?
He didn't get time to finish the thought. The next fist was already coming.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Han Daewong's punches found every corner of Pyo Sung-ho's body with surgical precision.
Face. Ribs. Solar plexus. Face again.
Each one was accurate and heavy. And not a single one of them finished him.
Just enough not to drop him. Just enough not to kill him. A series of punches that were, if anything, wickedly measured.
What the hell… What is this bastard doing?
Taking the beating in a daze, Pyo Sung-ho still clawed for counters.
He threw punches, kicked, tried to clinch.
Not one of them so much as brushed Han Daewong. That massive frame slipped every attack like a ghost and then planted another fist exactly where it wanted to go.
And the truly hair-raising part was this: every single one of those punches was a jab.
The lightest, most basic range-finder in the book.
Not a loaded straight. Not a hook. Just a jab, flicked out. And each of those jabs hit Pyo Sung-ho like a sledgehammer.
No way… That's a jab?
Even those light jabs snapped his head back again and again, rattling his brain in his skull.
The punches Pyo Sung-ho threw with everything he had felt several times lighter than the power this monster was holding back on a simple jab.
As the seconds piled up, Pyo Sung-ho's body went to pieces.
His brow split and blood ran down. A copper taste flooded his mouth, and a broken tooth caught on his tongue. Somewhere among his ribs came a wet, grinding crack. His face was already so swollen it no longer looked like his own.
And still he stayed conscious.
No—he couldn't lose consciousness.
Between the drugs they had pumped into him before the fight and the way this monster refused to let him go under, there was simply no exit.
Whenever he started to fold, the power came off by exactly that much. Whenever he could still stand it, the punches returned with perfect precision.
As if the man were toying with him.
Only then did Pyo Sung-ho understand.
This wasn't a fight that simply hadn't ended yet.
Han Daewong could have finished it in one shot.
He could have ended this hell whenever he wanted. And instead the monster was deliberately, meticulously grinding him down.
One clean knockout would have been a mercy. Hit, hit again, mind still wired to the socket—if only it had just been over.
How long did the beating go on?
Through half-lidded eyes, Pyo Sung-ho looked up at the board. Round one was almost over.
Just a little… Just a little longer.
When the round ended, he could rest, even for a moment. His coach would work the cuts, he could catch his breath. Clinging to that single thread of hope, Pyo Sung-ho clenched his teeth.
A little more. Just a little more. Until that bell rang…
And right as he was hanging on to a mind that was starting to slip—he saw Han Daewong slowly lift a fist.
Then the blow landed.
KRAAAAAANG—!
A white flash detonated in front of his eyes.
That was the last of it.
He tried to make a sound, and no voice came. He tried to form a thought, and the thought wouldn't connect.
The world simply—snapped—and went out.
…In the end, the round-ending bell Pyo Sung-ho had waited for so desperately never rang.
Bae Jong-gap had come to the arena for one reason only: worry.
Once he knew the opponent was Pyo Sung-ho, he couldn't possibly sit still at home.
There was no telling what a man that soaked in drugs and that rotten underneath might try against Daewong.
An old man couldn't do much by showing up, but he still needed to see it with his own two eyes before his heart would settle.
But.
"…Huh."
With the fight over, Bae Jong-gap let out a hollow laugh.
Worry had its limits.
What had just happened inside that cage couldn't even be called a contest.
Pyo Sung-ho never so much as properly touched Daewong.
That vicious frame, that body bloated on chemical fire—in front of Daewong, it had been nothing more than a heavy bag.
No room to breathe. Just a beating. And before round one was even finished, he had gone completely out.
Right now, Pyo Sung-ho was being carried out of the cage on a stretcher. He hadn't even managed to stand on his own feet.
From start to finish, it had been thoroughly one-sided.
But watching that scene, Bae Jong-gap's eyes caught something no one else seemed to see.
Through the entire beating, Pyo Sung-ho had barely lost consciousness.
No—he hadn't been allowed to. Daewong wouldn't let him.
Just short of dying. Just short of dropping. Fists calibrated with exacting precision to that razor edge.
That was, without question, the technique Bae Jong-gap himself had taught him.
How to hit soft.
How to take the power out.
How to stop.
The techniques he had worked so hard to drill into the boy so that he wouldn't kill anyone.
And today that bear—no, Han Daewong—had taken those techniques and put them to an entirely different use. Not to keep a man alive, but to break him slowly.
"…Huh. Would you look at that kid."
A dry laugh slipped out of Bae Jong-gap.
To think he'd apply it that way.
Something he could have finished in one shot, and he had deliberately chosen not to.
Once he could control his power, he no longer had to send an opponent out in a single blow. He could handle them for as long as he wanted, as slowly as he wanted.
A beast that had learned how not to kill had turned that very lesson into a far more terrifying weapon.
Bae Jong-gap had spent a lifetime working with predators, and even he had never seen anything like this.
The arena announcer's voice boomed through the building.
In that instant, Seo-yeon shot up out of her seat.
"Kyaaaa! Big Bear!! You won!! You're the champion!!"
She screamed until her throat nearly gave out. The people around her turned to stare, but she didn't care. In this moment, she wanted the whole world to hear it.
Up in the cage, the referee lifted Daewong's arm high.
Champion.
Road to UFC.
In the tournament that decided Asia's best prospect, Daewong had taken the top.
"He won, so now it's the UFC."
Beside her, Rachel spoke quietly.
She wasn't bouncing like Seo-yeon, and she wasn't tearing up either. She just stood with her arms folded, looking up at Daewong in the cage with quiet satisfaction.
But under that calm face was a conviction she couldn't quite hide.
"A full contract. The real Octagon. The world stage."
"For real?! Our Big Bear is actually going to the UFC?!"
"Yes. But…"
Rachel gave a small smile.
"I don't think this is the end. It's the opposite. He's only just stepped up to the starting line."
Her eyes went to Daewong in the cage.
"The stage where that man shows what he can really do starts now. The world's worst monsters are waiting for him up in that Octagon."
Her tone was even. But it was packed full of certainty in the fighter she had found—as if she had known from the beginning that all of this was only the beginning.
"…The best fighter of my life. I still have no intention of taking that back. If anything, I'm more sure of it every day."
Seo-yeon glanced at Rachel, then turned her eyes back to Daewong in the cage.
Arm still raised, he stood there with the same impassive face as always.
Even with the title, even with a ticket to the world stage locked in, it didn't seem to have quite sunk in yet.
That's so like him, Seo-yeon thought.
But looking at that calm face, the bridge of her nose stung for some reason.
The old days came back to her all at once.
There had been a time when he hadn't even had a name—when that huge bear, no, that huge man, had nowhere in the world to stand.
And now he was standing there under the cheers of tens of thousands.
With the biggest stage on earth right in front of him.
…Big Bear. You made it this far. You really did.
Moisture gathered quietly at the corners of Seo-yeon's eyes.
"All right, no crying, Assistant Manager."
Rachel looked at her and smirked.
"Things are about to get actually busy. Winner's interview, press conference, contract paperwork—we've got a mountain of work. You're going to need to keep it together."
"O-of course!"
Seo-yeon scrubbed at her eyes and rolled up her sleeves with determination.
Rachel really was a cool adult. Even in a moment like this, instead of getting carried away, she was already looking far ahead.
I want to be like that someday too, Seo-yeon thought again.
Then her eyes met Daewong's up in the cage.
Through the wall of cameras and noise, he had found her. And when he spotted Seo-yeon, a very faint smile spread across that blunt face.
As if he were saying, I won—that kind of smile.
Seo-yeon waved both arms hard.
"Big Bear!! You're the best!! The absolute best!!"
Through the roar that filled the arena, Seo-yeon's voice rang out louder than anything else.