You know that trope where the weak protagonist gets a bit of training and suddenly becomes a cool, collected badass? Fight Class 3 Jiu Ji-tae isn't that. Not even close. If you’ve been following 22B’s masterpiece, you’ve watched a slow-motion car crash of a human soul. It is messy. It's violent. Honestly, it’s one of the most uncomfortable things to read in the martial arts genre because it feels so earned and yet so wrong.
Most people start this series expecting a standard "zero to hero" sports story. We meet Jiu Ji-tae, a scrawny kid with a tragic past, looking for his kidnapped sister. He’s got the "talent" (hypermobility and insane reflexes), and he gets scouted by Maria, a lethal fighter who sees him as a tool for her own revenge. But somewhere along the line, the story shifts from "how do I win a fight" to "how much of my humanity can I set on fire to survive."
The Psychological Meat Grinder
The genius of the Fight Class 3 Jiu Ji-tae arc lies in the psychological erosion. Usually, in shonen or martial arts manhwa, the protagonist gains strength and gains confidence. Ji-tae gains strength and loses his mind. He doesn't just learn how to throw a punch; he learns how to enjoy the sensation of his knuckles hitting bone.
Think about the Vale Tudo arc.
That was the turning point. Before that, he was a hesitant kid. After? He became a jittery, scarred, self-mutilating wreck who laughs while getting his face caved in. It’s a subversion of the "growth" we usually see in fiction. 22B (the author) uses a jagged, almost frantic art style to reflect this. The lines get messier as Ji-tae’s mental state declines. You aren't just reading about a fighter; you're witnessing a mental health crisis fueled by adrenaline and trauma.
He’s not a hero. He’s barely a protagonist by the time he enters the "Tunnel." He’s a survivor who has internalized the violence of his father, the very man he’s supposed to hate. This creates a fascinating, albeit horrifying, parallel. He is becoming the monster he wants to kill.
Why the Art Style Shift Matters
A lot of readers get confused when the art changes. It gets gritty. It gets "ugly."
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That’s intentional.
When Fight Class 3 Jiu Ji-tae is at its peak, the panels feel claustrophobic. The hyper-detailed muscle anatomy mixes with sketchy, vibrating lines during high-stress moments. It’s a visual representation of his psychosis. If the art stayed clean and pretty, the impact of his descent would be lost. You need to see the sweat, the spit, and the crazed look in his eyes to understand that he’s no longer the kid from chapter one.
There is a specific focus on his scars. Not just the ones from fights, but the ones he gives himself. It’s a physical manifestation of his self-loathing. He uses pain as a grounding mechanism. It’s dark stuff, but it’s what sets this series apart from something like Lookism or How to Fight. Those series have stakes, sure, but Fight Class 3 feels like it’s playing with your actual nerves.
Realistic Martial Arts vs. Narrative Chaos
The series actually knows its stuff. You’ll see legitimate Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) techniques, Muay Thai clinches, and wrestling transitions. But Ji-tae’s style evolves into something much more "street." It’s dirty. It involves eye-gouging, biting, and using the environment.
Maria’s influence here is massive. She didn't teach him to be a sportsman. She taught him to be a weapon.
- The Physicality: Ji-tae’s body changes are realistic in terms of scarring and muscle density, though his hypermobility is the "superpower" element that keeps him competitive against monsters twice his size.
- The Pacing: The story doesn't rush his power-up. It takes dozens of chapters of him getting beaten into the dirt before he actually wins a meaningful exchange.
- The Tone: It’s oppressive. Even when he wins, it feels like a loss because of what he had to do to get there.
The "Tunnel" arc is where the series truly doubles down on this. The underground fighting ring isn't just a setting; it’s a character. It represents the bottom of the world where people like Ji-tae are forged or broken. Most are broken. Ji-tae just happened to be broken in a way that made him dangerous.
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Addressing the Hiatus and the Cult Following
Let’s be real: being a fan of this series is an exercise in patience. 22B has taken several long breaks. This has led to a massive amount of "brain rot" in the community, with fans dissecting every single panel of Fight Class 3 Jiu Ji-tae to find clues about his eventual confrontation with his father.
But the hiatuses actually helped the series’ reputation in a weird way. It gave the "beast mode" Ji-tae memes time to marinate. When the series returned, the shift in his personality was even more jarring because fans had been sitting with the "old" Ji-tae for so long.
The community is obsessed with his "awakening." But was it an awakening or a collapse? That’s the debate. Some see him as finally finding his true self, while others see a tragic figure who has completely abandoned his sister’s memory to become a killing machine.
The Reality of the Transformation
Is it "edgy"? Yeah, probably. But it’s high-effort edgy.
There is a difference between a character being dark for the sake of it and a character being dark because the narrative has systematically stripped away every other option they had. Ji-tae tried the nice way. He tried the hard-work way. None of it worked until he embraced the insanity.
That’s a cynical message, and it’s why the manhwa is so polarizing. It suggests that in a world of monsters, you have to become one to survive. It’s the antithesis of the "power of friendship" trope. In Fight Class 3, friendship gets you hurt. Reliance on others is a weakness Maria beats out of him early on.
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What Most People Get Wrong About Ji-tae
A common misconception is that Ji-tae is "cool" now.
If you think he’s cool, you’re missing the point. He’s miserable. He’s in constant physical and mental pain. His "cool" moments are usually followed by scenes of him looking completely hollowed out. The author isn't glorifying his state; he’s documenting a tragedy.
When he fights Sunny Ja, for example, it isn't a triumphant hero moment. It’s a desperate, feral struggle. He isn't winning because he’s better; he’s winning because he’s more willing to throw away his life than she is. That is a recurring theme: victory through the total abandonment of self-preservation.
Actionable Takeaways for Readers
If you're looking to dive into the Fight Class 3 Jiu Ji-tae saga or you're currently caught up, here is how to actually digest this complex narrative without getting lost in the chaos:
- Re-read the prologue after the Tunnel arc. You’ll see how much the foreshadowing was there from day one. The "monster" was always inside him; Maria just gave it a map.
- Pay attention to the background art in the later chapters. The shift from clean backgrounds to messy, shaded voids tells you more about Ji-tae’s headspace than the dialogue does.
- Track the eyes. 22B uses eye design to show who has "lost it." Compare Ji-tae’s eyes in chapter 1 to chapter 90. The light is gone.
- Study the BJJ transitions. If you're a martial arts fan, the technical accuracy in the early-to-mid series is top-tier. Even as it gets "crazier," the base mechanics of the fights usually hold up to real-world physics.
- Don't rush it. This isn't a series meant for a quick skim. The psychological weight builds up over time. If you binge it too fast, you might miss the subtle ways his personality fractures before the "big" changes happen.
The story isn't over yet. We are still waiting for the ultimate payoff: the reunion with his sister and the final showdown with his father. Whether Ji-tae can ever come back from the brink—or if he even wants to—remains the biggest question in the series. Given the trajectory so far, a happy ending feels unlikely, but a powerful one is almost guaranteed.
To understand Ji-tae is to understand that some wounds don't heal; they just become weapons. If you’re looking for a story that doesn't pull its punches—literally or emotionally—this is the one. Just don't expect to feel good after reading it.