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ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY, an ominous storm was brewing, deep in the dense, secluded woods where discipline and brutality were the only rules. The forested grounds belonged to none other than the Kim family—legacy bearers of one of the world's most ferocious martial arts lineages. It was here, beneath a canopy of ancient trees and shadowed skies, that Kim Da-eun, granddaughter of the esteemed Master Kim, commanded her own dojo. Known for its severe training camps, this place was a haven of iron-willed fighters who had dedicated their bodies and souls to the art of combat. Her camps drew the most skilled students from across the country, warriors so fierce that even Kreese's hardened students would struggle to keep up.
The camp was run with a philosophy rooted in survival and pain—only those who endured could advance. Da-eun enforced her rules with an iron grip, forbidding all traces of technology. It was as if each participant was stripped to their core, left only with their fists, instincts, and the relentless desire to prove their strength. Each weekend, they'd gather to dedicate to the art, spending not one, but two days in the woods, training. The day was a brutal challenge, a relentless stream of drills and sparring, while nights were spent facing the cold and silence under the thick forest canopy.
Food and water weren't rights but privileges, doled out only to those who demonstrated raw, unwavering commitment. Punishments were savage, designed to strip the mind of weakness. A simple misstep or hint of hesitation would earn grueling endurance tests or hours of solitary meditation in the dark woods, pushing students to confront their innermost fears and limitations. To Da-eun, this was the only way to build warriors who embodied her grandfather's "no mercy" ethos. She watched with an almost predatory pride as her students fought, displaying the type of grit that she believed other students would never ever achieve.
In the shadows, Kreese himself lingered, his sharp gaze fixed on the fighters before him. Fresh from his own trials, he bore an unsettling calm, a predatory patience. This was his element, the world that had shaped him all those years ago when Master Kim had first instilled the values of strength and dominance within him. Now, watching Da-eun's students, he felt a twisted satisfaction; here was a place untouched by sentiment or weakness. But he also sensed a threat—the primal, untamed talent that Da-eun so proudly paraded was unlike anything he'd cultivated in his students back in the States.
And her subtle jabs, hints that her fighters surpassed his own, made his blood simmer.
In this camp, far from the world's distractions, warriors were forged in ways brutal and unrelenting. As Kreese watched, lurking like a ghost in his old mentor's dojo, he knew one thing—he was back, and this storm would be unleashed soon enough.
