Han Dae Su sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of the basement. The stale air hung heavy, thick with dust and the faint, sour smell of sweat. Around him, the silence pressed down like a weight, broken only by the dull, rhythmic thuds of his fists striking the cracked wall in front of him.
He had been doing this for months now. Every day since he came home from prison — a silent ritual fueled by a rage so deep it seemed to burn through his very bones.
His knuckles were raw, cracked open in places, the skin peeling like old paint. His fists throbbed with pain, but he welcomed it. Pain was proof he was still fighting — still alive.
Today was different though.
As his glove-covered hand slammed into the wall for the hundredth time, he noticed a strange sensation. A faint heat beneath his skin — like a slow-burning ember just beneath the surface. His fingers tingled, not from pain, but from something else. Something new.
He paused, breathing hard. The usual sting of bruises and fatigue was still there, but now beneath it, there was a subtle pulse of energy. A flicker of something primal.
Closing his eyes, Han Dae Su took a deep breath, the air harsh in his lungs. A voice echoed inside his mind — low, distant, and ancient.
"Dae Su..."
The name slipped into his thoughts like a shadow across his consciousness.
"I am with you."
Drenval.
The betrayed warrior from a thousand years past, whose will now intertwined with his own.
Han Dae Su opened his eyes slowly and rose to his feet. His body ached from the endless training — the push-ups until his arms trembled, the sprints in the cramped basement corridor, the makeshift weights he hoisted day after day. But tonight, he felt different. Stronger, sharper.
He clenched his fists and punched the wall again — harder this time. The crack widened, small bits of concrete dust falling away.
And the pain? It was there, but dulled. As if his body absorbed the blow, hardened against it.
"Not just strength..." he muttered. "Control."
He glanced around the dim basement — the thick concrete walls, the single bare bulb flickering above, casting long shadows. This was his cage and his sanctuary. The outside world moved on, indifferent to the storm quietly building beneath the surface.
His mind drifted back to the past: the bitter cold of the prison cell, the faces of the ten who betrayed him—laughing, celebrating, free while he rotted. The day his aunt came, voice trembling, over the phone to tell him his parents were gone — lost in a car crash that no one blamed on anyone but somehow felt like it was his fault.
He had denied it. Insisted it wasn't true.
But the scars were real.
The hate burned brighter than ever.
Every day since, he pushed himself past every limit — no magic shortcuts, no miracles. Just relentless, brutal training.
His body ached constantly. Muscles screamed for rest. Bones throbbed with exhaustion. But he never stopped.
His basement echoed with the sound of grunts and thuds — the beat of a man reshaping himself.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would stand at the basement's single, barred window and watch the streets. His phone screen was cracked but it showed social media updates of the bullies — laughing, partying, their lives untouched.
Anger would flare like wildfire inside him, and sometimes, when the world was quiet, he would punch the wall until his knuckles bled again.
But now, something was different.
That ember beneath his skin was growing. The presence of Drenval pressed on him, pushing, pulling — awakening strength he hadn't known he had.
Han Dae Su didn't understand it yet. He didn't know what the future held. But one thing was clear.
He would no longer be broken.
Not by them.
Not by fate.
One day, he would walk out of this basement — not as a victim, but as a force unstoppable.
And when the ten who destroyed his life finally met him again...
They would regret ever crossing his path.