Sorry guys, exam month continuing in full blow, I admit , the Kitae tease was too much so I am updating the whole arc in one go...a fitting conclusion.
Peace
.....
Kitae Kim stood still, his head tilted slightly as he tanked Apollo's kick point-blank. His eyes gleamed with a ferocity—something foreign to Apollo.
The hair on the back of Apollo's neck rose, goosebumps erupting across his skin. His eyes widened as a primal fear surged through him. I need to escape.
He twisted his body, pushing off the man and landing just two feet away. His shoes skidded across the concrete floor as he came to a halt, panting, heaving, eyes locked on the monstrosity that was Kitae Kim.
He activated my fight or flight response, Apollo realized, blood surging through his body in a rush of adrenaline. Only Hansu has ever done that.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, its tempo matching his quick, shallow breaths. He narrowed his eyes at the figure before him.
"Was that all?" Kitae's voice cut through the tension, heavy with disappointment. His gaze drifted past Apollo, as if searching for something else. "Is that all someone with those eyes can do?"
His frame tensed, lips curled in irritation. I expected more. His fist clenched unconsciously. It's about time I end this farce.
His muscles coiled. With a subtle motion, his legs pushed him off the ground, cracking the floor beneath him. The curious gleam in his eyes faded. This one's just weak.
His body moved in unison with his arm—his own brutal technique, honed to the extreme.
As he reached Apollo, he noticed something strange. Apollo didn't move.
Kitae's brow rose in surprise, then his lips curled into a long, unsettling smile. His eyes lit up with sadistic amusement. Even if he's not strong, slaughtering him will be fun.
His heart raced with excitement at the thought of dissecting Apollo.
His fist launched forward, muscles cracking the very air. The blow landed squarely on Apollo's chest with a thunderous impact, the force nearly caving him in. A shockwave blasted through the area, toppling nearby tables.
Apollo flew—one, two, three meters—before crashing to a halt. His chest shimmered in its usual bluish hue. He scoffed to himself. At this point, I should just paint my body blue... with all the beatings I've taken.
He looked up. Kitae stared back with an expression both perverse and murderous.
"You survived my punch." His voice, bold and direct, sliced through the silence—yet carried a chilling undertone. "I didn't expect that. Tell me... how many masteries do you have?"
He pointed at Apollo, his stance now casual, as if he were strolling through a garden rather than fighting.
Apollo shook his head, gaze lowering to his feet. I could hide it… maybe use the element of surprise. But that won't matter here. His eyes sharpened. Not if I want to win.
He smirked, locking eyes with Kitae.
"One."
Kitae raised a brow, his face scrunching in confusion. He muttered, "Mhm... you can take a hit without mastery…"
Then the grin returned, devoid of warmth. "I've got three. Try to survive."
Three? The word echoed in Apollo's mind, a painful reminder of the vast gap between them. He exhaled slowly, heart calming. It doesn't matter. If I want to be proud of myself, I need to give it my all.
He braced himself, hands clenched. His breathing slowed.
But nothing could have prepared him for what came next.
Kitae didn't vanish—yet the red blur was too fast to follow. Apollo barely caught the trajectory. He turned instinctively.
For my defense technique to work, I have to shift according to the attack. He smirked, his left leg sliding behind the right.
Like a comet, Kitae's knee slammed into exactly where Apollo had anticipated. Rather than resist, Apollo gritted his teeth and twisted midair, letting the force carry him, absorbing the momentum instead of fighting it.
He stabilized—but Kitae was already there.
Wind whipped his face as he raised his forearm just in time. The blow landed with a sickening crack.
Crunch.
Pain blared through his body like a siren. His eyes snapped to his forearm. Broken.He analyzed quickly. One mastery is power. The other must be endurance.
Then, instinct screamed again.
He shifted left just in time to track the incoming kick—a roundhouse. Its force was enough to make the air rustle his clothes.
Forearm won't hold. Shoulder. His mind raced, flashing back to Gongseob's training—one move stood out.
The Philly Roll.
He brought his shoulder into the kick's path, twisting his hips to redirect the force. Sweat poured down his face. A guttural cry of pain escaped his lips.
The technique worked—barely. He had dodged death itself.
Agony surged through him. His bones creaked under his skin, barely holding together. He glanced down—his shoulder was bruised, skin nearly torn, the bone beneath a splintered mess.
But there was no time to breathe. Kitae's knee drove into his solar plexus.
The impact boomed. Air rustled violently.
Apollo flew. His ribs cracked, his face twisted in a grimace, his entire body pulsing with unbearable pain. He hit the ground, rolled, unable to soften the fall.
Yet through it all—something else took root.
Rage.
His blood pounded in his veins, a storm surging beneath the pain. His vision blurred, but he could make out the red figure approaching.
His jaw clenched tight enough to strain the bone. His expression twisted into something monstrous. His eyes burned with pure bloodlust as they locked onto Kitae.
"I..." His voice was low, razor-sharp, soaked in fury. "I will destroy you, Kitae Kim."
And then—it happened.
A strength unknown filled his broken legs. His battered, bloodied body rose to its feet. Apollo was conscious, his gaze steady and locked.
Then—he vanished