Chapitre 3: Chapter 2: The Legend
After two years of rigorous training, Michael had honed not only his own skills but also those of the twins, Leo and Noah.
He had also taken the time to teach Leo about business, using his knowledge of future trends to accumulate wealth. With well-placed investments in stocks, Michael had already secured a million dollars, laying the foundation for his future empire.
The twins had transformed significantly over those two years. Noah had grown more muscular, stronger, and faster than ever before, quickly reaching a level of strength that rivaled the so-called Kings.
His progress had even surprised Michael. Leo, meanwhile, had developed just as much physically, but his composure and calculating nature had sharpened even further, thanks to Michael's mentorship in both combat and business.
One day, after a particularly intense training session, Michael gathered the twins and said, "You've grown stronger over these two years, but strength alone isn't enough. You lack real-world experience. So, we're going out there, and you're going to fight. You need to learn what it feels like to fight against unpredictable opponents."
"Yes, boss," the twins responded in unison, determination evident in their eyes.
For the next month, they scoured the streets of Seoul, seeking out and defeating street thugs to sharpen their skills.
Each fight added another layer of experience, refining their combat abilities and instincts.
One evening, after another victorious brawl, the trio stumbled upon a man wearing a political sash with the number 24 on it. Beside him stood a bald man, seemingly his companion.
"Oi, Baekho, looks like we're still not there yet," the man in the sash said with a note of disappointment.
"Don't worry, boss Gapryong. We'll get there someday," Baekho replied confidently.
"I'm not giving up," Gapryong said, determination flashing in his eyes. But as he spoke, his gaze landed on Michael and the twins.
Michael's heart skipped a beat. The man before him was Gapryong Kim—the Legend, the Boss of the Kim Gapryong Fist Gang. One of the strongest, if not the strongest, fighter in the Lookism world in his prime.
Without hesitation, Michael stepped forward. "Are you Gapryong Kim, the Legend and Boss of the Kim Gapryong Fist Gang?" he asked, barely containing his excitement.
Gapryong looked at him with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, that's me."
Michael's pulse quickened. This was the man he had only heard about, standing right in front of him. "Sir, I admire you and your legacy. I would like to fight you."
Gapryong chuckled, shaking his head. "Kid, this isn't a game. Go home and study instead of getting involved in things like this."
But Michael was undeterred. As Gapryong walked past him, Michael launched a sudden kick aimed at his head. Instinctively, Gapryong blocked it with ease.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "I know damn well this isn't a game, Mister Gapryong," he said, his voice icy but calm. "But I'm not like the others. I strive to be the strongest, to be the best in everything I do. I was planning to find you eventually, but now that you're here, I want to see firsthand why they call you the strongest."
Gapryong paused, a hint of surprise flickering in his expression. Before he could respond, Michael charged at him with a fierce grin, excitement coursing through his veins as he prepared to face the legend head-on.
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The tension in the air thickened as Michael charged at Gapryong, his heart pounding with anticipation. He had trained for this moment, studied countless techniques, and now stood face-to-face with a legend of the underworld. The dimly lit street faded from his focus, leaving only the intense standoff between the two fighters.
Gapryong's expression was calm, almost bored, yet there was a sharp edge in his gaze that betrayed his readiness.
Michael's Perfect Copy ability allowed him to replicate a myriad of fighting styles, but he knew Gapryong was unlike anyone he had ever faced. This wasn't just a battle of skill—it was a battle against raw power, instinct, and experience built over a lifetime.
Michael tried to mimic Gapryong's movements, to match his every strike and counter. But it was clear. Gapryong's strength and mastery were on another level. The gap between them was wide, and Michael could feel it.
He managed to copy one of Gapryong's techniques, but his body wasn't strong enough to execute it with the same force or precision. It was like trying to mimic a hurricane with the force of a gust of wind.
In a heartbeat, Gapryong countered, sending Michael crashing through a wall, the impact leaving him dazed and struggling to regain consciousness. His body felt dull, and his vision blurred at the edges. This was it—he had reached his breaking point.
Gapryong, unfazed, turned to leave, dismissing the encounter as if it were merely an annoyance.
As Michael lay on the ground, his mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, the dormant power of his Hanma blood surged within him.
Even in unconsciousness, his body responded to the awakening. Muscles tensed and bulged, his veins pulsing with newfound strength.
His eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, suddenly snapped open, burning with a fierce, almost feral intensity.
In that moment, instinct took over. He rose, not as the focused fighter he had trained to be, but as a mindless beast driven by raw energy and primal fury.
Gapryong, sensing a shift in the air, paused. Before he could react, Michael was back on his feet, his movements now faster, more powerful.
His face contorted with the raw energy of the Hanma blood coursing through his veins, Michael charged at Gapryong once again, this time with a wild, unrelenting fury.
Gapryong spun around, but not fast enough to avoid the oncoming attack. Michael's fist slammed into him with brutal force, sending a shockwave through the air.
Gapryong managed to block most of it, but the sheer power behind the punch was enough to stagger him, leaving him with a minor injury—a first for the seasoned fighter in many years.
Gapryong's eyes widened slightly, feeling the impact, and for the first time, true acknowledgment flickered in his expression. Michael was no longer just an eager kid—he had transformed into something far more dangerous.
"Interesting," Gapryong muttered, wiping a small trickle of blood from his lip as he eyed Michael, now fully awakened, standing before him with a primal hunger for battle. The fight was far from over.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone