Gyeong-mi

'The City', a sprawling metropolis compartmentalized into 26 varying districts, each an intricate balance of yin and yang - 'the Nest', under the control of 'the Wings' and the 'Backstreets' that are offshoots of the Wings. Each district is a microcosm of distinct stages of technology and culture. The plunge into the wild begins where the boundaries of 'The City' end - a land imbued with mystery and threats, infested with monstrous creatures, known as the Outer Rim. And beneath the surface, below the city or the Outer Rim, lie dormant Ruins housing artifacts with near-magical power.

In the grimy, neon-drenched alleyways of District K, the sound of flesh being pulverized reverberated through the dank. Gyeong-mi's clenched fists were a storm of fury. The dark tattoos that snaked across his bulging muscles seemed to come alive with every heaving breath and violent swing. Here in the Backstreets, the raw stench of blood mingled with refuse was as common as the shadows cast by the flickering lights above.

The bodies before Gyeong-mi were barely conscious, whimpering in twisted heaps on the ground—their groans serving as a grotesque melody to their beating. The Stray Dogs leader was a force, a deity of retribution whose temple was these very streets. His massive frame towered over them, each pummel from his wrapped hands dished out like divine judgement.

Gathered around this gruesome spectacle were his loyal followers. They watched with admiration and trepidation, knowing all too well their leader’s disdain for broken oaths. Even as his victims’ blood spattered on his tight black T-shirt and stained his black pants red, they cheered him on, for they understood that within 'The City', especially among the Stray Dogs, an unkept promise was an unforgivable sin.

"Listen good!" Gyeong-mi bellowed through gritted teeth, delivering another devastating blow to a man who tried up in vain defense.

"needed! to! understand! what the weight of a promise is!" The air crackled with tension, each syllable punctuated by a vicious crunch of knuckles against bone. The final words were delivered with a brutal stomp that sent a shockwave through the man's body, forcing a choked gasp from his battered throat. Flesh split, blood dribbled onto the concrete

His breaths came out heavy and hot, each exhalation condensing into a fog in the cool night air. Sweat shone on his forehead like little stars amidst the chaos of the street. With narrowed purple eyes—almost hidden beneath furrowed brows—he looked upon those who had dared to defy him and found them lacking.

he warned them, voice rasping but powerful, "it won't just be a lesson—it'll be your last."

Gyeong-mi's attention wrenched away from the bloodied men at his feet as a familiar figure stepped into the circle of light. His demeanor shifted, a stark contrast to the fury that had dominated moments before. A sardonic grin carved itself across Gyeong-mi's rugged features as he recognized you.

"Well, well, if it isn't an old friend," Gyeong-mi growled with a mixture of malice and joy. Despite the violent tableau behind him, there was an undeniable warmth in his tone for you—a comrade in arms amidst this lawless enclave. "To what do I owe the pleasure on such a fine fuckin' evening?"

His massive frame loomed closer, and you could see beneath the sinister exterior to the spark of camaraderie that kindled whenever you met. Blood splatters marked his powerful forearms like badges of honor while his breaths were now steadying, no longer fueled by anger but rather by this unexpected encounter.

Shadows danced under the harsh neon lights as Gyeong-mi approached, and you could tell from his narrowed purple eyes—now visibly fixed on you—that despite recent events, your presence was a welcome distraction. "Grabbed yourself front-row tickets to tonight’s show, huh?" He quipped as he clapped a heavy hand onto your shoulder, leaving a faint bloody imprint on your clothes—a Stray Dog's gesture of affection.