The kings Avater

Leaving the shop, Omega stepped back into the soft dusk light, carrying the items he had picked up. His pace was unhurried, his expression unreadable. He took the same lonely shortcut back to his parked car—a narrow, deserted stretch with peeling walls and the lingering scent of gutter smoke.

Just as he turned the familiar corner, he saw them.

A group of about nine guys, all around his age, stood in a rough circle, fists and kicks flying toward two younger boys. The victims couldn't be more than fresh high school graduates. The way they curled into themselves, trying to shield their faces—it brought back memories Omega didn't particularly like.

He recognized the attackers. A small-time gang. Familiar faces from his past.

Omega had once run with gangs himself—no, led them. Back then, he was known as the ruthless head of the Void 7, a crew he formed during his own chaotic high school days. Born from bullied kids turned fighters, Void 7 flipped the power scale—they bullied the bullies. But the group now in front of him, Iron Fangs, had been top dogs before Void 7 rose. Naturally, the two crews had become bitter rivals.

"Omega?" one of the guys called out, squinting before a smirk stretched across his face. He knew exactly who he was looking at—there was no mistaking the man who used to lead Void 7.

"Well, well, look who the alley coughed up," he said with mocking cheer, loud enough to get the rest of the crew's attention. The others turned, abandoning the two battered boys, who wasted no time scrambling away.

"Hey!—Ah, forget it," muttered the leader, Yan, with a lazy wave.

He turned to Omega. "Kids these days, right? Dumb as hell. Like they're running to another continent. We'll catch them later, make 'em pay double. Can't believe how careless kids are now. Right, Omega?"

Omega didn't say a word. He simply looked at Yan, a quiet stare that wasn't angry or scared—just calm. Bored, even.

The others watched the silent exchange. They all knew him as Omega—Void 7's Omega. Not once did it occur to them that he might also be that Omega… the one from the Dragon Team.

The crew around Yan began closing in, grinning now.

"Damn," one of them said, walking up and circling Omega like a vulture. "Look at you. Dripped out. Smellin' like expensive shit, fresh skin, clean hair—got the girls lined up, don't you? That glow-up's crazy." He reached to brush Omega's hair—

But Omega grabbed his wrist. Not hard. Just firm. He slowly turned, looked him in the eye, then gently dropped the guy's hand and offered a faint smirk.

"You guys must be real bored," Omega said casually, turning his gaze to Yan. "Beating up high schoolers now? That's... low, even for you."

He slipped a hand into his pocket, cocked his head.

"For a shu-shu like you," he added, letting the insult land.

A few of the gang members scowled, but Yan just chuckled and stepped forward.

"Look around you Omega, you do realize you're outnumbered, right?" Yan said, voice low. "It's just you... and us." He gestured to the space around them, empty except for cracked cement and shadows. "I wouldn't be talking shit if I were you. Out here? " He said

" Nobody's gonna hear you scream."he added i a whisper

A few of the boys laughed quietly, eager.

Omega, however, smiled—and walked forward.

"I told you—I'm a repented soul. Doesn't mean I never was a sinner."

He tilted his head, locking eyes with Yan.

"And I can go back to the old ways..." His voice dropped, casual. "Just for you."

A faint smirk. "Been bored lately." he added

Yan's grin faltered. The air shifted. There was no bravado in Omega's tone, but something underneath it—something real.

Omega sighed and lifted the bag in his hand.

"But not today. My mum made this." He patted the container gently. "Wouldn't want blood on it. You understand, right?"

He turned to the guy who had touched his hair earlier.

"Who knows—seeing this new glow-up might just inspire you to get a real job," he said, gently tapping Yan's cheek. "You know… leave the little boys for the little bullies."

He turned to walk away, casual and unbothered—

But then he stopped mid-step.

His eyes landed on a familiar sight: his own gang members, silently watching from a distance. They'd been there the whole time.

The new leader of the Void 7, stepped forward from the crowd. Mo Ying. Confident, clean fade, half a toothpick sticking out the corner of his mouth like he was born chewing it.

"What are you waiting for, Yan?" Mo Ying smiled, eyes half-lidded and calm. "Omega just belittled you. Right in front of your boys. In your own territory too. That's basically a sin against the Yan gang, no?"

He kept walking slowly, his voice smooth like he was narrating a documentary.

"Or maybe you're just gonna let him stroll off like some pretty boy in a K-drama? It's just him, after all..."

He paused right beside Omega, standing shoulder to shoulder with him like they'd planned this the whole time. Omega said nothing—just watched him with mild amusement, as if the drama unfolding wasn't even his concern.

Yan's frown deepened, but before he could take a step forward, one of his own boys grabbed him by the elbow.

"Yo, chill—"

"No, c'mon!" Mo Ying faked a hurt look. "You're ruining the show, my guy. Why you gotta hold him back like that? Huh?" His smile widened. "Don't tell me you just had déjà vu. Or maybe you remembered how last time went?"

Yan shrugged off the hand and sneered.

"Omega might be safe now, but what about the rest of y'all? You better be building connections—'cause that's the only thing that'll keep your little Void gang floating when the streets get loud again."

Mo Ying's grin never wavered.

"Uh, correction—it's Hallpass Mafia now."

Yan scoffed. His crew exchanged unimpressed glances and walked off without another word, their swagger trying to make up for the bruised ego.

Silence fell for a second.

"...Hallpass Mafia?" Omega repeated, turning slightly. "Seriously?"

A few of them chuckled.

"I told y'all that name was weak," one of the younger guys muttered, laughing as he shook his head.

"Let me guess," Omega said dryly. "That was Ye Ban's idea?"

"Nailed it," Mo Ying admitted without hesitation.

"Yea yea whatever, y'all all voted!" Ye Ban argued from the back.

"Under duress," someone coughed.

They all laughed, including Omega, who just shook his head like a tired uncle watching his nephews act up.

Then the group fell quiet again, all eyes drifting back to him.

"Longest time, bro," Mo Ying said, a little more serious now. "You're looking good. Real fresh."

"Hair's longer. Vibe's calmer. You in some monk arc or something?" Ye Ban added.

"Or... is that just Dragon Team glow?" one of them smirked knowingly.

Omega gave them a flat stare. "Y'all still talk too much."

"He didn't deny it," Mo Ying said, nudging the others with his elbow.

They all chuckled like kids who'd just found out their friend was secretly a superhero.

"So, you back?" Ye Ban asked, casual but hopeful.

"Nah." Omega answered with zero hesitation. "I'm done with that life. You know that."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say... right before some 'incident' drags 'em back in," one of them muttered, smirking.

Mo Ying laughed. "We ain't trying to drag you, bro. Just saying—it's weird not seeing you around. Whole gang feels like it's missing its final boss."

"Plus," Ye Ban added, "you left before voting on the rebrand. That's a crime on its own."

"I did y'all a favor," Omega said.

They laughed again.

Even in their nonsense, there was respect in their eyes. They knew Omega had outgrown the gang life, had traded chaos for calm. But to them, he'd always be their old leader, the one who started it all.

And deep down, they liked knowing the Dragon Team's Omega still remembered where he came from.