The gym was dim—half the lights flickered on, casting long, distorted shadows across the polished floor. The basketball hoops loomed overhead like gallows, and the bleachers were scattered with broken chairs, their creaking eerily loud in the stillness.
It was after school. Dogsung High was unusually quiet, but there was a buzz in the air. Word had already spread: Kang Doohwan, the enforcer of the Pit Dogs, had challenged Eli Nam.
The Pit Dogs were a myth. Nobody had seen Doohwan for weeks. Some said he'd been expelled, others claimed he was locked up. But today, he'd returned.
And he wanted blood.
Eli stood at the center of the court, his eyes cold and unreadable. His bomber jacket was zipped halfway, red lining peeking out. His hands were ungloved, his fingers flexing lightly as he stared at the floor, the silence ringing in his ears.
Doohwan entered without a word.
The enforcer was a giant. Tall, broad—his shredded uniform barely contained his hulking frame. His forearms were a map of scars and veins. A black leather strap wrapped around his right fist, the kind that made it seem like he was ready to tear down a wall. His boots thudded against the hardwood as he walked, each step deliberate, crushing.
Gwangsik, the Pit Dogs' frontliner, stood by the wall, watching the scene unfold with unease. Sweat dotted his forehead.
"You sure about this?" Gwangsik asked, his voice low.
Doohwan didn't answer. His eyes were locked on Eli.
"You messed with the wrong school," he growled, his voice deep, the kind that rumbled in your chest. "You beat up my crew. Now, let's see if you can handle me."
Eli didn't flinch. "You talk too much."
Part 2: Fight Like Dogs
The second Doohwan moved, the gym seemed to tremble.
It wasn't physical, but the energy—raw and violent—pulsed through the air like a shockwave. There were no warmups. No testing jabs. Kang Doohwan wasn't a fighter who danced around. He was a wrecking ball—a one-man army.
He exploded forward.
His right elbow tucked in like a battering ram, and his left shoulder was lowered to crash into Eli. His feet pounded the floor, shaking the gym as if every step was meant to crush Eli's spirit first before his body.
Eli didn't flinch.
He pivoted, sliding to the side in a fluid, almost effortless move, narrowly avoiding the rush. As Doohwan's shoulder grazed by, Eli drove a low kick toward the Pit Dogs' enforcer's lead leg—right at the fibular head, just below the knee.
SMACK.
The kick landed with a sickening thud, but Doohwan barely reacted. He absorbed the blow, twisted his body like a machine, and fired a savage knee straight into Eli's ribs.
THWACK.
The sound was like a baseball bat hitting flesh. Eli's ribs absorbed the impact, but his breath caught, a cough tearing through his chest. A lesser man would've crumpled.
But Eli didn't. His eyes were empty—dead glass.
Doohwan sneered. "That all you got, pretty boy?"
Eli didn't answer. Instead, he closed the gap.
A sharp headbutt slammed into the bridge of Doohwan's nose. Bone cracked, and blood sprayed from his nostrils in an instant.
Doohwan reeled back, wiping the blood from his eyes, but he wasn't done. A roar built in his throat, and then his fist was flying—a brutal haymaker faster than anything Eli had expected.
It missed. Barely. Eli ducked, the punch slicing the air just an inch from his temple, the force so sharp it whistled.
Eli was already in motion, firing back.
A double jab—quick and precise—slammed into Doohwan's eye socket. Before the enforcer could recover, Eli delivered a sharp elbow into the side of his neck, aiming for the carotid artery.
Doohwan staggered, gasping, his balance faltering.
Eli took advantage of the opening.
Right knee to the gut.
Left hook to the liver.
A foot stomp on Doohwan's lead ankle.
Then, a shoulder slam straight into Doohwan's chest. The impact sent the massive enforcer stumbling backward, crashing into the bleachers with a deafening metallic clang.
The gym fell silent.
Doohwan's breath came in ragged gasps, but his eyes still burned with fury.
He wasn't done yet.
With a guttural growl, he lunged, grabbing Eli's leg and yanking him down to the floor.
They both hit hard.
And then it was chaos.
Fists pounded. Elbows crashed. It was ground and pound.
Doohwan was on top of Eli now, his fists raining down in hammer-like strikes—one, two, three—each hit like a jackhammer, landing with brutal precision. Eli's forearms barely shielded his face, blood trickling from his mouth, his lip split.
But his mind stayed cold.
In one smooth motion, he twisted—rolling left, grabbing Doohwan's punching arm and locking it in.
He transitioned into a tight armbar, his legs wrapping around Doohwan's bicep, his hips locking into place, his wrist torquing.
Doohwan thrashed, his entire body writhing, desperate to escape.
Eli's grip tightened. No words. Just pressure.
He kept applying it, slowly, methodically. The joint started to bend the wrong way.
"Tap," Eli's voice came out flat—cold. Like steel.
Doohwan refused. His teeth ground together, veins bulging in his neck.
"TAP!" Eli shouted again.
But Doohwan held on, refusing to surrender.
And then Eli's eyes darkened. His patience ran out.
CRACK!!!
A horrifying sound filled the gym as Doohwan's arm snapped backward. His scream—guttural and raw—ripped through the room, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
Silence.
The students around the gym froze. Gwangsik dropped his phone. A junior in the corner vomited.
Doohwan rolled on the ground, clutching his broken arm, the sound of his ragged breath like a dying animal.
Eli stood, breathing hard but composed. Blood still dripped from his lip onto the hardwood floor, dotting it with small, dark red splashes.
Then, without a word, he turned toward the group of Pit Dogs watching at the gym entrance. They stood motionless, their eyes wide, fear creeping into their gazes.
He didn't need to say a word.
Doohwan—their myth, their enforcer—was broken.
The alpha had changed.
The whispers started immediately.
Did you hear?
Eli Nam snapped Kang's arm. Cold. Just like that.
And then walked off like it was nothing.
As Eli walked through the now-silent halls of Dogsung, the atmosphere was thick with unease. No one stepped in his way. Some students bowed their heads as he passed, avoiding his gaze, while others stayed still, staring at him with a mix of fear and awe.
Eli felt it—the shift. The change was undeniable.
The walls of Dogsung no longer buzzed with the usual meaningless chatter. Instead, there was an electric tension hanging in the air. The whispers didn't just spread through the hallways—they were moving like fire through dry grass.
Scar Chain. The whispers came faster now. Eyes from the shadows. Eli had made his mark, and now, the dogs that watched from the edges of Dogsung were waking up.
Meanwhile, on the school rooftop, Rowon sat, solitary and contemplative, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. The skyline of Busan stretched before him, distant and indifferent.
Behind him, his lieutenants stood silently, respecting the silence of their leader.
Kang Doohwan had been his best fighter. His tank. His enforcer.
And now?
"...He didn't just beat Doohwan," Rowon muttered, flicking the cigarette from his fingers. "He disassembled him."
Jaeho, one of Rowon's older lieutenants, shifted nervously. "We can rally the second-years. Reinforce—"
"No," Rowon said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "War has changed." He paused. "And he's the one changing it."
Elsewhere in Dogsung, in the shadowed hallways behind the old gym locker rooms, something else stirred.
Not a student. Not a teacher.
A shadow moved slowly, dragging something heavy behind it—a thick iron chain, clinking against the floor with each step.
CLINK.
CLINK.
Jaeyoon "Steel Eye" Seo. Third-year. Leader of Scar Chain.
Scar Chain didn't follow the rules. They didn't attend class. They didn't flaunt their colors. They stayed hidden—watching, waiting for chaos to break loose.
And now, the chaos had arrived.
Eli Nam had crushed Doohwan like a bug. The power was shifting, and Jaeyoon could smell it.
His chain dragged against the floor, a heavy reminder that the shadows had begun to stir.
Outside the school gates, Eli paused as he neared the sidewalk. The quiet was unsettling. His eyes scanned the area, sensing something.
A metallic clink echoed behind him.
He stopped.
Turning slowly, he saw it—an iron chain, worn with bloodstains, lying on the ground. No note. No explanation.
Just a message.
Eli smiled, a dark, knowing grin curling on his lips.
"Let them come," he muttered under his breath.
TO BE CONTINUED...