Apollo Park closed his laptop with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. The latest Lookism chapter had just dropped, and as always, it left him both exhilarated and restless. Daniel's fight with a rival had been intense, and Apollo found himself analyzing every move, every strategy, every subtle shift in stance.
"Man… if only life were like this," he muttered, standing from his chair. His small apartment was cluttered — stacks of manga, half-empty instant ramen cups, and scattered notebooks filled with sketches of fight combos and character stats. He grabbed his wallet and coat. "Time to grab something to eat. Can't live on imagination alone."
The streets of the city were noisy, alive, and chaotic — much like the battles he admired in Lookism. Cars honked, people rushed past, the smell of street food mingled with exhaust fumes. Apollo's thoughts drifted, as always, to fights. Who would win if he were there? Could he read the enemy like Daniel? Could he move with the precision of Gun? His heartbeat quickened at the thought.
He stepped off the curb, eyes scanning both the traffic and his surroundings — instinct honed by hours of manga observation. "Always check twice," he muttered, a habit learned from countless chapters.
A sudden screech of brakes snapped him from his daydream. A truck, far too fast, barreled down the street. Time seemed to slow. Apollo froze.
"No—" he whispered.
Instinct screamed at him to move, but the world betrayed him. His legs felt like lead, his mind paralyzed by disbelief. The tires shrieked louder, metal grinding against pavement. He jumped backward — too slow. The truck clipped his foot, spinning him like a ragdoll. Pain, blinding and sharp, radiated through his body. He hit the asphalt, rolling uncontrollably, the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust filling his senses.
Apollo tried to scream, but his voice failed him. The world tilted, colors blending into white streaks, sounds stretching into eerie echoes. And then… silence.
For a moment, he felt weightless, suspended in a void. No sounds, no smells, no pain — just emptiness. And then a whisper, mechanical, calm, and unmistakable, echoed in his mind.
Apollo never imagined that dying could feel… so anticlimactic. One moment he was rushing home from work, clutching his battered laptop and mumbling about how Lookism had ruined his sleep schedule again, and the next he was staring at a bright white ceiling that wasn't anywhere he recognized.
His mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. He remembered the screech of tires, the smell of burning rubber, and then… nothing.
"Great. That's it. Game over?" he muttered aloud, feeling absurdly disappointed. Apollo had always been the kind of guy who binge-read every Lookism chapter, idolized the strong and stylish, and dreamed of the day he could throw down in the streets like Daniel Park or even Gun without getting flattened in a single punch. And now? Gone. Just like that.
But as he floated in the void of nothingness, a strange feeling crept over him. It wasn't fear. It wasn't pain. It was… opportunity.
A voice echoed in his mind — soft, almost robotic, but undeniably there.
"System activated. Welcome, user. Reincarnation confirmed. Initial stats allocated.
Apollo blinked. "Wait… what?"
"Reincarnation?" he whispered to himself, disbelief twisting his thoughts. He tried to sit up, or rather, felt like he tried, but… he was weightless. Then came the sudden pull of gravity, or maybe reality itself snapping back into focus.
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a field bathed in sunlight. The air smelled different — fresh, crisp, almost sharp with life. He glanced down and nearly fell over. His hands were small, delicate… uncalloused. His body? Fragile. Weak. He could feel the bones under his skin, the muscles barely defined, and the instincts kicking in with every slight movement.
He was alive again. Reborn. But not as the Apollo he had been. This was a different world. One that felt… like it had been pulled straight from his dreams.
But then he remembered every chapter he had devoured in Lookism. Every fight. Every street brawl. Every legendary moment where a weakling stepped into a ring and turned the world upside down. He could almost hear Daniel shouting, "You gotta fight for your place!"
Apollo blinked at the sudden interface appearing before him. It wasn't intrusive or flashy like in video games he'd seen — it was precise, almost clinical. Floating before him in midair was a sleek panel of glowing white and silver light, numbers shifting and rearranging as though alive.
A mechanical voice spoke, calm and deliberate, yet with an underlying tone of curiosity, as if the system itself were assessing him.
"Welcome, user. Reincarnation confirmed. Identity: Apollo. Initial parameters set. Please review."
Apollo stared, his heart racing. "Uh… review? What do you mean?"
The panel expanded, numbers and labels spinning into clarity.
SYSTEM PANEL
Name: Apollo
Tier: Iron
System Level: 1
Talent Lineage: Yamazaki Clan / Shingen Sister Bloodline
Combat Aptitude: F (1/100)
The system's voice chimed again. "As a newly reincarnated user, your baseline abilities are limited. All primary combat stats start at the lowest observable grade. Physical power, speed, reflexes, endurance, perception, and aura are ranked using the F-to-S+ tier scale, with F being negligible and S+ representing peak Transcendent Omega potential. Your current values are as follows:
Strength: F (1/100)
Speed: F (1/100)
Reflex: F (1/100)
Stamina: F (1/100)
Aura: F (1/100)
System Points: 0
"These stats are raw potential only. They reflect your body's current physical and mental conditioning. Weak as they may be, they are your foundation. Growth is achievable through missions, training, combat experience, and skill integration."
Apollo frowned. "F? One out of a hundred? That's… insulting."
The system emitted a soft digital laugh. "Objective assessment. Insults are irrelevant. You are not expected to win at this stage. You are expected to survive, grow, and ascend. The Iron tier represents absolute novice status. Fighters in this tier are fragile, untrained, and at high risk of defeat. Awareness, adaptation, and repetition are your primary tools."
Apollo exhaled, trying to steady his excitement. "Alright… so how do I get better?"
"Growth is tracked via three key metrics," the system explained, illuminating a new section of the panel:
1. Combat Experience (XP): Gains occur through physical engagement, training, and overcoming challenges. Each battle provides measurable experience proportional to difficulty.
2. System Missions: Assigned objectives that guide development. Completing missions unlocks stat increases, new techniques, and tier progression.
3. Talent Affinity: Innate lineage or skill potential. Your bloodline grants unique adaptability, resilience, and potential for special abilities. Yamazaki Clan affiliation provides exceptional bone density, martial perception, and affinity for advanced combat techniques. Shingen Sister lineage enhances aura control, tactical foresight, and emotional fortitude.
Apollo's eyes widened. "So… my talent affects how I grow? Like… my bloodline is… giving me a head start?"
"Correct. Talent is not absolute power; it is a multiplier for potential growth. Weak users can outgrow gifted opponents with sufficient discipline, training, and system optimization. The bloodline's latent traits will manifest as you progress through tiers."
A new portion of the system panel blinked to life, showing tier explanations in a visual cascade, and the voice explained with clarity.
Tier Breakdown:
Iron (F–E): Absolute beginner. Vulnerable to injury and defeat. Focus: survival, awareness, basic movement, and reflex adaptation.
Steel (D–C): Early adaptive phase. Small increases in strength and speed. Basic mastery of Heat Mode-like surges may manifest. User begins to develop instinctive reactions.
Titanium (B–B+): Capable of learning hybrid techniques, minor mimicry, and controlled aggression. Reflexes sharpen. Aura begins to manifest.
Diamond (A–A+): Peak human potential. Controlled Heat Mode, Predator Instinct emerging. Capable of handling multiple opponents and advanced combat techniques.
Obsidian (S–S+): Near-superhuman tier. Hybrid combos, battlefield awareness, aura dominance. Adaptive strategy integrated with instinct.
Myth (Z–Z+): Superhuman tier. Ability to replicate advanced techniques, predict enemy movements, manipulate perception, and overwhelm elite fighters.
Transcendent Omega (Z+): Absolute apex. Full integration of instinct, intellect, system growth, and creativity. Spontaneous ability creation and flawless battlefield control. Few exist in history.
The system paused for a beat, letting Apollo take it all in.
"You… want to be like the characters you admired in your previous life?" the system asked, its tone subtly curious.
Apollo laughed softly, excitement bubbling through him. "You bet. Daniel, Gun, James Lee… I want to fight. I want to feel that rush, that adrenaline. I want to grow until I can stand toe-to-toe with legends. I don't care how long it takes."
A soft chime responded, as if the system approved. "Acknowledged. Motivation recognized. Initial missions will guide growth. Rewards include stat upgrades, new abilities, and tier progression."
A holographic list appeared.
Initial Missions:
1. Basic Survival Training: Spend one day mastering movement, balance, and situational awareness. Gain +1 XP per hour.
2. Observation Combat: Identify patterns in weaker opponents. Record and replicate movements. Unlock Shadow Copy prototype at Tier Steel.
3. Strength Conditioning: Daily physical exercise. Increases Strength and Stamina by measurable increments.
4. Reflex Calibration: Reaction drills with environmental hazards. +Reflex and +Perception.
5. Aura Familiarization: Awareness of internal energy and emotional state. Foundation for Heat Mode control and aura-based techniques.
Apollo's eyes scanned the missions, a grin spreading across his face. "This is perfect. Step one: survive. Step two: fight. Step three: become unstoppable."
"Correction," the system responded with its mechanical calmness. "Step one: survive. Step two: grow. Step three: ascend. Fighting is a method, not the ultimate goal. Your success depends on discipline, strategy, and adaptation. Recklessness will result in failure. Survival first. Power second. Mastery third."
Apollo nodded, fists clenching instinctively. "Got it. Survive. Train. Ascend. And then…" He paused, thinking of the characters he had idolized in his old life. "…then I'll finally live the fights I've always read about. Not as a spectator, but as a participant."
A soft hum echoed from the system. Talent detected. Yamazaki lineage confirmed. Potential growth acceleration: +10% initial XP gains. Bloodline abilities will manifest naturally with tier progression. Monitoring emotional triggers… probability of Heat Mode activation: moderate. Probability of Predator Instinct activation: low at Tier Iron, increasing with growth.
Apollo's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "So even starting at F, I have potential?"
"Correct," the system affirmed. "The tier is your beginning, not your ceiling. Your bloodline, your decisions, your drive, and the system itself are tools. Use them wisely. Progression from Iron to Steel, Titanium, and beyond is achievable through consistent training, combat, and mission completion. Fail, and you stagnate. Succeed, and you ascend to god-tier potential. Few in history have reached Transcendent Omega. You have that possibility. Whether you achieve it depends entirely on your actions."
Apollo laughed aloud, punching the air, feeling something stir deep in his chest — excitement, determination, and raw hunger. "Actions, huh? Then I guess it's time to start. Iron-tier Apollo is about to begin his rise. And this system… you better keep up, because I'm not going slow."
The panel pulsed warmly, almost like a heartbeat. Acknowledged. Growth tracking initiated. Initial mission countdown: 24 hours.
And for the first time since his reincarnation, Apollo felt truly alive.
Apollo grinned, teeth flashing. "Fine. If I'm going to be reborn… I'm going to do it right. I'm going to fight. And not just fight… I'm going to crush, learn, grow, and become someone that even Gun would hesitate to face."
Apollo's heart began to race. He could feel the familiar thrill, the one he had only ever experienced while reading manga, racing through his veins. This was real now.
It didn't take long for Apollo to realize that his rebirth came with more than just a body and a system. He had a name here, a family… and a legacy.
"Yamazaki…" he muttered, rolling the name on his tongue. It felt foreign yet familiar, like he had read it in a history book long ago. Then it clicked. Grandfather Yamazaki. The stories whispered in elite circles. A warrior feared and respected. And then, a subtle twinge of irritation — his mother, the sister of Shingen, a prodigy in her own right, had raised him away from the chaos of her family disputes. His father? A man who married for stability rather than honor.
In other words, Apollo had been given a fragile start. Weak. Overlooked. Hidden.
Perfect.
"Of course," he said, a sly smirk forming. "If I wanted a calm life, I wouldn't be me. But if I wanted power… well, that's a different story."
The system pulsed in response, almost like acknowledging his resolve. Objective updated: Survive initial stage. Begin training. Accumulate experience.
Apollo flexed his fingers experimentally. They were nothing now. But the thought of growing, of punching, grappling, training, and fighting his way to strength — it made every nerve in his body tingle. He could feel potential coiling inside him like a spring. And for the first time in his short, tragic life, he felt alive in a way that transcended reality.
He knew he wouldn't become Gun overnight. He knew he wouldn't match James Lee in a month. But he would grow. He would train. He would fight. And when he finally faced the legends of this world…
He would not be weak.
Apollo smiled, clenching his fists. The boy he had been — the nerdy, average, modern-world fan of Lookism — was gone. In his place stood a boy reborn, determined, and hungry. Hungry for power. Hungry for fights. Hungry to live the life he had only dreamed of.
And this… was only the beginning.