Lookism: King's Ascension

"Hey, let me ask you something."

A voice echoed in the void. Not loud, not soft… just there.

It wasn't demanding like Gun's, goofy like Goo's, or deep like Tom Lee's. It didn't demand attention, nor did it need to.

Yet, whenever a fight reached its climax, whenever a legend stood over another, broken and defeated, this voice always appeared.

Gun had heard it. So had Goo, Tom Lee, even the Kings.

It came from nowhere and everywhere, always asking the right questions at the right time.

"How strong is Xiaolung?"

"What is Mastery?"

"Who was the most memorable King?"

The world of Lookism had many powerful figures. Fighters whose strength defied logic. Kings who ruled over entire cities. But none of them ever stopped to ask…

Who was the one always asking these questions?

Who was the one documenting their rise and fall?

Some called him a journalist. Others thought he was just a cameraman, a nobody lurking behind the scenes.

They were all wrong.

He was The Narrator.

And, more importantly, he was bored.

The Lookism world had grown stale.

Gun was still ridiculously strong. Charles Choi was still doing random things for no reason. The new generation was strong… but predictable. He had already seen it all before. The rise, the fall, the betrayals, the victories… nothing excited him anymore.

But the First Generation?

That was different. That was where monsters were born.

Jinrang. James Lee. Taesoo Ma. Jichang Kwak. The legends who overthrew their Pre-generation Masters and carved out their territories with their fists.

That era was chaos. Blood painted the streets, bones shattered, and Kings ruled entire cities.

But one thing had always bothered him.

James Lee ended that era. Too easily.

He crushed every King. He mutilated them, broke them, erased their rule.

That was boring.

Where was the one who stood against him? Where was the King who didn't fall?

Gun, Goo, Daniel Park… they all played their parts well. But history was set in stone. The First Generation had already played out.

So he had to change the script.

Somewhere in Anyang…

A nameless, unremarkable teen laid unconscious.

He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't a King.

He was nobody.

A perfect vessel.

The Narrator raised his camera, took a photo, and smiled.

"Let's see what happens when a random nobody gets the opportunity."

The path was already in motion.

And history?

It was about to be rewritten.

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I've actually always wondered who the person asking all the questions was. This is just my take on it.