lookism: Apostle

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A few days had passed since the trouble with the Worker's 2nd Affiliate. The calm that followed was unnerving—a stillness too quiet, as though it were the prelude to a devastating storm. 

---

The golden hues of dawn painted the streets as Small Eli walked alongside Michael toward the hostel. The air was crisp, their footsteps echoing faintly in the silence. 

"So, what happened with your proposal, Hyung?" Eli asked, breaking the quiet. 

Michael scratched his head, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "Well, I haven't asked her yet. I figured... it might be too soon for something that serious." 

Eli stopped, staring at Michael with a disappointed look. "Sigh... You're scared of proposing to a girl. You who could probably beat a thousand men by himself. That says *a lot* about you, Hyung." 

Michael's eye twitched in annoyance as he clenched his fist. "Oh yeah? And what exactly does it say?" 

Without missing a beat, Eli replied, "It says you're scared to talk to girls." 

Before Eli could blink, Michael's fist came down on his head, leaving a comically large bump. Eli yelped in pain, clutching his head. 

"I'm not scared of girls!" Michael shot back. "I'm the one who confessed to her first, remember? How dare you say something like that?" 

They continued their bickering until they reached the hostel. As they approached, Michael's demeanor shifted. His expression darkened, and he stopped abruptly. 

Michael crouched down to Eli's level, his voice low but firm. "Go inside and stay with your sister. Don't open the door for anyone, and keep your guard up." 

Ruffling Eli's hair, Michael gave a faint smile before walking away into the morning mist, his shoulders tense. 

---

**Chaos at the Hostel** 

Inside the hostel grounds, Warren, Jerry, and Eli found themselves embroiled in a fierce battle with the White Tiger gang. Eli, leading the runaway kids, confronted a group of burly enforcers, his small frame defiant as he charged forward. Meanwhile, Warren and Jerry faced off against Manager Kim, a man who barely seemed to exert any effort as he toyed with them. 

Manager Kim smirked as he produced a thin, metallic rope. With a swift motion, he ensnared several of the runaway kids in its range, leaving them immobilized. 

"Struggling already?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. 

But before he could make his next move, a commanding voice echoed through the chaos. 

"Looks like I arrived just in time." 

All eyes turned to the source—Tom Lee, clad in his iconic yellow suit and dark shades, his presence dominating the battlefield. 

Tom's gaze swept the area, taking in the scene. "Huh, this is too easy. But where's Michael? He's the one I came for." He glanced at Eli, smirking. "I guess I'll take you back to complete the mission." 

Suddenly, an icy chill filled the air, silencing the battlefield. It wasn't the kind of cold one felt on their skin—it was a bone-deep fear, primal and suffocating. 

Tom's grin widened as he turned toward the source of the aura. Emerging from the shadows was Michael, his glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness. The ominous aura surrounding him seemed alive, crackling with unrestrained fury. 

As Michael stepped forward, his gaze swept over the battlefield. The sight of his injured friends and the wreckage left in the wake of the White Tiger members only fueled his rage. 

In a deceptively calm tone, he spoke, "Didn't I warn you? If you wanted me, you should've come for me directly. Why involve my family?" 

Tom Lee laughed, his voice laced with arrogance. "I don't care about your warnings, kid. I'm here to complete the task." 

Michael's lips curled into a chilling smile. "Then let's see how well you can handle me." 

Tom dashed toward Eli, but before he could get close, Michael's foot connected with his side, sending him flying a dozen meters. Tom landed on his feet, the force of the blow etched in his grimace. 

"Not bad," Tom said, brushing off his suit. "Looks like we're picking up where we left off." 

Michael didn't respond. Instead, he moved with terrifying speed, launching another kick aimed at Tom's chest. Tom raised his arms to block, but the impact sent him skidding backward, a crack audible even through the chaos. 

Tom grinned, his voice tinged with excitement. "You've gotten stronger, haven't you?" 

Michael's gaze hardened. "It's not strength—it's that I'm not holding back this time." 

As the tension rose, another figure stepped forward. A boy with pink hair and a white mask emerged from the shadows, his presence shifting the atmosphere once again. 

Tom's grin faltered. "James Lee?" 

Michael narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. "So, James, you're working with the Workers now? Betraying Charles Choi?" 

James removed his mask, revealing a stoic expression. "I have no loyalty to anyone. Circumstances dictate my choices." 

Without warning, James disappeared, reappearing behind Michael and aiming a kick at his head. Michael raised an arm to block, but the force sent him crashing into a nearby wall. 

Tom scoffed. "You didn't need to interfere, brat. I could've handled this, and i don't like you to be Frank."

James side-eyed Tom. "Against anyone else, perhaps. But this isn't just anyone. Have you heard of Father Gabriel?" 

Tom's grin returned, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Who hasn't? He created monsters. So, this kid is one of them?" 

James nodded. "Not just one of them—he's the most talented of them all." 

Michael, emerging from the rubble, wiped the dust from his face. His red eyes glowed brighter as he spoke, his voice low and threatening. "James, you'll regret this." 

The battle escalated. Michael moved with inhuman speed, clashing with James and Tom simultaneously. Each attack sent shockwaves rippling through the air, the sheer force of their strikes leveling the surrounding area. 

As the fight reached its peak, Michael's aura intensified, his muscles bulking and his presence becoming even more monstrous. In a blur, he grabbed James by the head and slammed him into the ground, creating a massive crater. 

Turning his attention to Tom, Michael dodged a claw-like swipe and countered with a devastating punch. Tom barely managed to block, but the force sent him reeling. 

Michael's voice echoed across the battlefield. "You wanted to see my talent? Let me show you what a monster truly is." 

The fighting continued, each clash more destructive than the last. The storm that had been brewing finally erupted, threatening to consume everything in its path. 

--- 

The battlefield was chaotic, littered with rubble and debris from the earlier clashes. The air was thick with tension, and the only sound was the faint crunch of shattered concrete beneath their feet. 

Michael stood tall, his face calm but his knuckles slightly bruised. His shirt was torn from earlier hits, but his stance was unwavering. Across from him, Tom Lee and James exchanged a quick glance, silently coordinating their next move. 

Tom Lee cracked his neck, his sadistic grin widening. "Kid, you're tough. I'll give you that. But raw strength won't be enough against the two of us." 

Michael's lips curled into a smirk. "Let's test that theory." 

Without warning, Tom charged forward like a freight train, his fist flying toward Michael's jaw. Michael sidestepped at the last second, countering with a swift elbow strike to Tom's ribs. The impact was solid, and Tom staggered back a step, coughing slightly but maintaining his grin. 

James moved in next, his speed and precision evident. He aimed a low kick at Michael's knee, forcing Michael to shift his weight. Using the opening, James threw a clean jab at Michael's ribs. Michael blocked it with his forearm but winced slightly from the force. 

"Not bad," Michael muttered, his eyes flicking between the two. 

Tom recovered quickly and came at Michael with a hook aimed at his temple. Michael ducked, using his momentum to deliver a sharp uppercut to Tom's chin. Tom's head snapped back, but he barely flinched, shaking it off as if it were nothing. 

"You hit hard, kid," Tom admitted, rubbing his jaw. "But I've taken worse." 

James circled around, trying to catch Michael from behind. He feinted a kick, drawing Michael's attention, and then launched a straight punch at Michael's side. Michael twisted his torso, narrowly avoiding the punch, but Tom was already moving in. 

This time, Tom's massive fist connected with Michael's ribs, the dull thud echoing through the air. Michael gritted his teeth and countered with a brutal knee to Tom's stomach, forcing him to double over momentarily. 

James took the opportunity to jump in, throwing a series of rapid punches aimed at Michael's head. Michael blocked most of them, but a well-placed hit grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. 

Michael smirked, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Finally, a real fight." 

He surged forward, closing the distance between him and James. With a lightning-fast combination of punches, Michael forced James onto the defensive. James dodged and blocked with remarkable agility, but a solid hit to his shoulder sent him stumbling back. 

Tom, now recovered, tackled Michael from the side, the two of them crashing into the ground. Tom pinned Michael momentarily, raining down punches. Michael used his forearm to block, twisting his hips to break free and throw Tom off balance. 

Both men scrambled to their feet just as James rejoined the fray. 

The three engaged in a brutal exchange, fists flying and bodies colliding with raw force. Michael's strikes were precise and relentless, but the coordination between Tom and James started to show. They began timing their attacks, with one distracting while the other struck. 

Tom landed a solid blow to Michael's abdomen, making him gasp slightly. Before Michael could recover, James swept his legs, sending him to the ground. Tom moved in for a follow-up, but Michael rolled out of the way, kicking upward and catching Tom in the chest. 

Michael sprang back to his feet, his breathing heavy but his resolve unshaken. "Is this your best? I expected more." 

Tom wiped his mouth, his grin returning. "You talk too much." 

James nodded, his usually calm demeanor now showing a hint of frustration. "He's too dangerous if we don't end this quickly." 

They charged together, their movements perfectly synchronized. Michael planted his feet, bracing for the impact. Tom swung a haymaker while James aimed a low kick. Michael ducked under Tom's punch, stepping into James' range and landing a brutal headbutt that sent James staggering. 

Tom capitalized on Michael's brief opening, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him into the ground. Michael grunted as the impact cracked the concrete beneath him. 

Tom raised his fist for a finishing blow, but Michael twisted his body, breaking free and delivering a powerful kick to Tom's knee. Tom growled in pain but didn't fall. 

The three fighters stepped back for a brief moment, all of them breathing heavily and covered in sweat and minor injuries. 

Michael's smirk returned, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "Is that all? I'm just getting started." 

Tom and James exchanged another glance, this time with a shared understanding. They rushed him once more, the raw intensity of the fight escalating as the battle for dominance raged on.### The Turning Point: Michael's Stamina Reaches Its Limit 

Michael stood tall, his shirt torn and dust clinging to his skin, but his body showed no major injuries. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, but his expression remained calm and unyielding. 

Tom Lee wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin unwavering. "You're something else, kid. Not a scratch on you after all this? But even a body like yours has its limits." 

James adjusted his stance, his sharp eyes fixed on Michael. "He's slowing down. Let's finish it." 

The two fighters moved in unison, their combined attacks a brutal onslaught. Tom came in first, throwing a flurry of heavy punches aimed at Michael's upper body. Michael blocked and deflected most of them, his movements sharp and calculated. 

James darted in from the side, launching a spinning kick toward Michael's ribs. Michael twisted his torso just in time to lessen the impact, but the force pushed him back a few steps. 

Michael steadied himself and countered with a swift jab at Tom's face, landing cleanly. Tom staggered slightly, his grin only growing wider. "Not bad, but you'll have to do better." 

Before Michael could follow up, James slipped in behind him, delivering a precise blow to the back of his knee. Michael faltered, but instead of falling, he pivoted on his other foot and swung an elbow backward, narrowly missing James as he dodged. 

Tom seized the moment, stepping in with a powerful hook to Michael's midsection. The blow landed with a dull thud, but Michael barely flinched. 

"Is that all you've got?" Michael muttered, his voice steady despite the barrage. 

Frustrated, Tom and James attacked in sync, their movements seamless. Tom aimed high with a series of punches, while James targeted Michael's legs with quick, calculated strikes. Michael defended with precision, his body twisting and turning to avoid the worst of their hits. 

But the relentless assault was taking its toll. 

Even with his extraordinary endurance and a body seemingly built to withstand punishment, Michael's stamina was waning. His counters grew slower, his movements less fluid. 

James noticed the change first. "He's pushing himself beyond his limit. Keep going." 

Tom nodded, launching a heavy uppercut. Michael dodged, but James was already there, delivering a kick to Michael's chest that sent him sliding backward across the rubble. 

Michael stood again, his legs steady but his breathing labored. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his piercing eyes still filled with defiance. 

"You two are really trying, huh?" he said with a faint smirk. 

Tom chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Damn right we are. Let's see how much longer you can keep this up." 

They came at him again, their attacks even more ferocious. Michael dodged, blocked, and countered with remarkable skill, but his movements were slower now, his reactions dulled by exhaustion. 

A particularly brutal combo from James landed—a spinning kick to the side followed by a quick jab to Michael's jaw. The impact sent Michael stumbling. 

Tom followed up with a heavy blow to Michael's midsection, the force lifting him slightly off the ground. Michael landed on his feet but wobbled, his body struggling to maintain balance. 

Despite the relentless attacks, Michael's body showed no major signs of injury. His skin was only lightly bruised, his movements still steady, but his stamina was visibly drained. 

Tom and James paused, watching as Michael straightened himself, his fists still raised. 

"Still standing?" Tom muttered in disbelief. 

Michael took a step forward, his gaze locked on his opponents. But before he could throw another punch, his legs buckled. 

His body, though unharmed, finally gave in to the sheer exertion of the fight. Michael fell to his knees, his head dipping forward as consciousness slipped away. 

Tom scratched the back of his head, his grin softening into something more respectful. "Even when his body's done, his spirit doesn't quit. What a damn monster." 

James crouched slightly, observing Michael's unmoving form. "His body's fine, but he pushed himself too far. That's the only way we could take him down." 

Tom exhaled and shook his head. "Let's quickly capture them. This fight's drawn enough attention already." 

The two walked towards the other members, leaving Michael faint but undefeated in spirit, lying amidst the ruins of their battle. Despite everything, his body was unbroken—a testament to the resilience that made him a fighter unlike any other.

(Backstory)

That night. The birth of the "Red Demon."

It was raining heavily that night. The alley reeked of damp concrete and blood. Michael, younger and leaner but no less fierce, stood amidst a group of men twice his size. Their broken bodies lay scattered around him, groaning and writhing in pain.

His hands trembled, not from fear or exhaustion, but from the rage coursing through his veins. His shirt was soaked in a mixture of rain and blood, clinging to his skin. His knuckles were raw, the result of countless punches delivered with a savagery that shocked even him.

A voice echoed in his mind, one he hadn't heard before that night: "Fight. Destroy. Survive."

Michael had never sought violence, but that night was different. It wasn't just about survival; it was about sending a message. The men before him were from a gang that had terrorized his neighborhood, preying on the weak, leaving families shattered. When they came for his own, something inside him snapped.

His vision turned red as the world around him seemed to slow. He didn't remember the specifics—only flashes of his fists connecting with faces, ribs cracking under his kicks, and the sound of his own growls echoing through the alley.

When it was over, he stood alone, his body unscathed, but his mind in chaos.

A man stepped forward from the shadows. Older, with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor, he surveyed the scene with an unreadable expression.

"Well," the man said, his voice smooth yet commanding. "You've got talent, kid. But talent without control is dangerous. They'll call you a monster after this."

Michael looked up, his red-stained eyes meeting the man's gaze. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low and ragged.

"Someone who recognizes potential," the man replied with a smirk. "But you'll need more than raw power to survive in this world. Remember that."

The man left as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Michael standing in the rain, the echoes of his actions weighing heavily on him.

The Awakening of the Inner Demon

Michael's body lay motionless amidst the rubble, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as though he were in a deep, peaceful sleep. Yet, within his mind, a storm raged.

He wasn't awake—not truly. His consciousness had receded, buried beneath layers of exhaustion and the brutal toll of the fight. What stirred now was something far darker, primal, and unrelenting—the "Red Demon" that had always lingered in the recesses of his mind, waiting for its moment to emerge.

In the vast darkness of his subconscious, Michael stood on a desolate battlefield. The ground beneath him was cracked and scorched, the air thick with the scent of iron and smoke. In the distance, a figure loomed—a reflection, yet not entirely his own.

It was him, but not him.

The figure's red eyes burned like embers in the void, and its body exuded an aura of raw power and malice. Its fists were clenched, its stance predatory.

"You again," Michael muttered, his voice echoing in the void. He knew this figure well—it was the manifestation of the rage and violence he had fought to suppress for years.

The Red Demon smiled, a twisted grin that sent chills down Michael's spine. "You're weak," it hissed, its voice low and guttural. "You let them beat you down. You let them mock your strength. Pathetic."

Michael took a step forward, his jaw clenched. "I don't need you. I've done fine without you."

The Demon chuckled, the sound reverberating like a growl. "Is that so? Then why am I here?" It spread its arms, gesturing to the endless void around them. "You called me, Michael. When you let your guard down. When you fell. I am what keeps us alive."

Michael shook his head, refusing to accept the Demon's words. "You're just a remnant. A mistake. I don't need your power anymore."

But the Demon stepped closer, its presence suffocating. "You may not need me," it said, its grin widening, "but they do."

Outside, in Reality

Michael's body shifted slightly, his hands twitching as the remnants of the fight played out in his subconscious. His breathing grew heavier, almost as if an invisible weight pressed against him.

Tom Lee and James, who had retreated to assess their injuries, paused as they felt the air change. The atmosphere grew tense, thick with an unexplainable pressure that made the hairs on their necks stand on end.

"What... what is this?" Tom Lee muttered, wiping blood from his lip.

James narrowed his eyes at Michael's prone form, his instincts screaming at him to be on guard. "He's not done," he said quietly, stepping forward cautiously.

Michael's eyes snapped open.

But they weren't his eyes.

The glowing red gaze that now pierced through the night was far from human. It carried a cold, detached fury, as if the man himself had taken a back seat, and something far more dangerous had taken the reins.

The Red Demon had awakened.

In the Subconscious Battlefield

Michael lunged at the Demon, his fists swinging with raw determination. But every blow he landed was absorbed effortlessly, the Demon's grin never faltering.

"You can't fight me," it sneered. "I am you. The part of you that doesn't hesitate. The part of you that acts without mercy. And now, you're too tired to keep me locked away."

Michael staggered back, his breaths ragged. He couldn't deny the truth—the Demon wasn't entirely wrong. Every time he'd come close to death, every time he'd pushed himself beyond his limits, it was this... thing that had brought him back.

But it came with a price.

"I won't let you hurt them," Michael said, his voice shaking but resolute.

The Demon laughed, stepping closer. "Hurt them? I'll save them. And you can watch, like the weakling you've become."

Outside

Michael—no, the Demon—rose to his feet with a terrifying calmness. His movements were deliberate, his posture unnervingly composed.

Tom Lee and James exchanged wary glances.

"This isn't the same guy," Tom muttered, his grin faltering for the first time.

James clenched his fists. "No... it's not."

Before either could react, Michael darted forward, his speed far greater than before. His movements were sharper, his attacks more brutal. He launched a flurry of punches and kicks, each blow calculated to break bones and incapacitate.

Tom barely dodged a punch aimed at his jaw, the force of the strike shattering the ground behind him. James countered with a high kick, but Michael caught it mid-air, twisting James's leg with such force that it sent him spinning into the rubble.

"You wanted a fight," the Demon growled, its voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Now you'll get one."

Tom lunged, his fist aimed squarely at Michael's face, but the Demon sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a brutal knee to Tom's ribs. The impact sent Tom sprawling, coughing violently as he clutched his side.

James, recovering quickly, charged in with a low sweep, attempting to unbalance Michael. But the Demon jumped, spinning mid-air, and brought his elbow down on James's shoulder with a sickening crack.

The two opponents lay groaning, struggling to rise as the Demon stood over them, his gaze impassive.

"Is this all you've got?" it asked, its tone mocking. "You're not even worth my time."

But as the Demon prepared to strike again, a flicker of hesitation crossed its features.

From deep within, Michael's voice rang out.

"Stop."

The Demon staggered, its grip on Michael's body faltering. Its red eyes flickered, a hint of humanity seeping through.

"No!" the Demon roared, clutching its head. "You're too weak to stop me!"

But Michael's will was stronger than the Demon had anticipated. Slowly, the red glow faded from his eyes, and his body sagged, dropping to his knees.

When he finally collapsed, his breathing steady but shallow, the battlefield fell silent once more.

The Red Demon had been subdued—for now.