Lookism:Legends

The late afternoon sun dipped low over the rooftops, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Dust swirled in the air, kicked up by the sharp movements of Johan Seong. His eyes were sharp, lips curled in determination. Across from him stood Jalen, relaxed, shoulders loose, eyes unreadable.

Johan was the first to move.

He darted forward with a sudden burst of speed, faster than most could track. His right hand came in low, feinting a body shot before his left snapped up toward Jalen's jaw.

But Jalen simply tilted his head.

The punch whistled through empty air.

"Fast," Jalen muttered, stepping to the side.

Johan spun and followed up with a back kick, the heel slicing through where Jalen had been a split-second ago. Another miss. His foot slammed against the concrete, sending a small shockwave of dust.

The gathered crowd Vasco, Jace, Daniel, and the remnants of the defeated God Dogs watched in stunned silence.

Jalen hadn't thrown a single strike.

Johan growled, sweat already forming on his brow. "Don't look down on me!"

He exploded forward, chaining combinations now. Left hook. Uppercut. Spinning elbow. His strikes were fast and technical, every move fluid, rehearsed, dangerous. Jalen weaved through them with minimal motion, arms casually rising to deflect only what was necessary.

"Lets see how fast you can go." Jalen said, eyes tracking every twitch in Johan's shoulders and hips.

Johan said nothing, focused only on landing something anything. He could feel his body pushing to the limit, but Jalen looked like he was taking a stroll.

He snapped a jab. Jalen parried.

Low sweep. Jalen hopped back.

Flying knee. Jalen ducked.

"Fight back!" Johan shouted, fury rising in his voice. "Don't just dodge!"

"I told you," Jalen said calmly, "I just wanted to see how fast you could go."

Johan hesitated.

That second was all Jalen needed.

In a blur, Jalen closed the distance. A sharp palm strike cracked against Johan's chest, sending him stumbling back. Before he could catch his breath, a knee rose into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Then, a backhand to the temple sent him sprawling across the pavement.

Groaning, Johan rolled to his side, gripping his ribs. He forced himself up again, wobbling, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. His body screamed in protest, but he raised his fists anyway.

Jalen watched him without emotion. "You're relentless. I respect that."

Johan charged again reckless now, rage in his steps. He screamed as he swung, a wild haymaker.

Jalen stepped under it, twisted, and drove his fist into Johan's stomach so hard the air was knocked from his lungs. Johan collapsed to his knees.

"You're good," Jalen said, standing over him. "Great techniques. Solid flow. You've got real talent."

He turned, back to Johan.

"But you're all finesse, no power. The opposite of someone like Vasco."

Johan coughed and looked up, eyes wide, heart pounding.

"You're not big enough to carry the weight you want to," Jalen said quietly. "Gun didn't choose you. Accept it."

Johan's fists trembled against the concrete. For the first time in a long while, he felt powerless.

Jalen glanced at the setting sun, then back at the beaten fighter behind him.

"If Gun didn't already choose me," he said, "I wouldn't have wasted my time blocking your punches."

With that, he walked away. The wind blew gently through the lot, carrying with it the quiet murmurs of those who had witnessed something extraordinary.