The Thrill of the Finals
We finished getting autographs and toured almost all the remaining booths before heading into the arena with an hour left until the match started. Honestly, neither my sister nor I were in great shape stamina-wise, so it was clear we couldn't keep wandering around much longer without collapsing. My sister started giving me a crash course on what WoL was all about. Since we were already here, I wanted to watch properly, so I listened closely.
She explained a ton of stuff, but to sum it up simply: There are over a hundred characters, each team bans three and picks five, then the game begins. The goal is to destroy the enemy team's base, the Nexus, but to reach it, you have to take down the towers in front (aka towers) and the inhibitors. In easy terms, it's a 5v5 siege war.
The map has three lanes that become battlegrounds—one for each position. Two go to the bottom lane, and the remaining one heads to the neutral jungle area. I asked why only bottom lane gets two, but she dodged, saying I'd understand once I watched. She went on with more explanations, but to someone like me with zero knowledge of WoL—or games in general—it was like reciting scriptures to a cow's ear. Whenever something went over my head, I'd drift into random thoughts like, Today's finals are best-of-five, so what time will we get home after it ends?
Just as those stray thoughts wrapped up, the arena lights began dimming. A video played on the massive front screen, showing the players, their nicknames, and teams. It ended with the text: 2015 War of Legends Champions Korea Spring Final. Probably some opening cinematic. Right then, spotlights hit the stage, revealing a middle-aged man in a suit.
The crowd's roar exploded with the caster's opening hype. As the cheers died down a bit, he started introducing the teams.
With the intro booming, five players struck funny poses as they rose from below the stage. The crowd went wild again. Since my sister wasn't screaming, Classic probably wasn't on that team. Made sense—he was an A1 player anyway.
Unlike ZE Lions, A1's six players casually strolled up with arms crossed. The cheers felt twice as loud, and sure enough, the auntie next to me shrieked.
“Kyaaah!!! A1 fighting!!!!!!”
Her voice was so loud I worried blood might drip from my ears. Wait, why six players? Luckily, I had a walking encyclopedia right beside me.
“Hey, why do they have six?”
My sister, mid-cheer, stopped and looked at me. “A1? They have a sub, that's why. Called the sixth man.”
Like a soccer bench player—got it. Lights dimmed again, and the players filed into their booths like it was rehearsed. When they came back on, the caster was gone—probably to the commentary desk. Then came pre-match player interviews. Even I, who knew nothing about them, found it entertaining; they had solid banter. (Though whether it was scripted or real, who knows.)
After the interviews, the casters chatted a bit until the stage caster cut in.
The main screen switched, and ban/pick began. Pretty intuitive—ban means forbid, pick means select characters. Both teams alternated banning unknowns until three each. Then picks: ZE grabbed one first, A1 countered with two.
“Huh? Why two for them?” I muttered, but my sister took it as a question.
“You'll get it as it goes.”
A1 picked two, ZE matched with two. Now I saw: First-pick team goes 1-2-2, second-pick goes 2-2-1. First gets priority on OP characters; second sees everything first for counters. Even character selection had strategy. That's when WoL started hooking me.
*
Character picks done, the match kicked off. I decided to just enjoy the game itself rather than root for a team. I didn't know their charms yet, and while WoL intrigued me, whether I'd play or keep watching was still up in the air.
Blue Team: ZE Lions
Red Team: ACT A1
Classic played Medusa, inspired by the Greek myth—snake-tailed woman using poison, naturally. Schwarz countered with Raizir, the Egyptian supreme god motif: bird-headed staff-wielder summoning sand soldiers. Poison vs. sand soldiers looked intense even to a noob like me.
Suddenly, the camera swung top.
Lions' Hojun ganked top with Loro and Yeti. A1's top Flota on Nir didn't retreat in time—or so it seemed. I thought that tiny boomerang animal was done for, but nope. Nir agilely leaped out of range, hugged the wall to escape, and tossed a boomerang for bonus damage.
That revealed the jungler's role: roaming the map to aid lanes. And it hooked me deeper. I couldn't have pictured dodging that gank myself. Even accounting for not knowing skills, this wasn't like the simple games I'd played. Later plays showed WoL's depth.
A1's jungler Spear on Serani—boar-riding flail warrior, bulky but burst in with a dash. Lions flashed (yellow teleport skill, I guessed) to escape but got stunned mid-dash. A1 closed in with their own flashes and wiped them.
I recalled the earlier line: “Wasted time for Hojun?” It wasn't just failed gank—using time there left bot vulnerable. Top and bot are far apart; gank one, you can't help the other. Wasted time hands initiative away. Spear's bot pressure snowballed A1's bot duo, ending set 1. MVP went to Spear or Boom for tower/inhib/Nexus explosions, but I picked Flota for no-loss top defense. If he'd died, no easy win for A1. Classic, sister's fave, was meh—couldn't grasp the “Demon King” hype.
Then in set 3, proving me wrong, Classic dropped an insane play. A1 up 2-0 hit crisis: Hojun ravaged bot revenge-style. Spear tried patching, but Lions' grown ADC Wish on Sivir (boomerang lady) under support Kong's Nautilus (anchor steel giant) overwhelmed. Each protected auto chipped health fast. That's why bot duo: ADCs scale huge damage but fragile; supports protect.
ZE marched on A1 Nexus, twin towers left—no fear with Wish popping them under protection. Siege began.
Sivir autoed a twin tower—then Classic's Raizir dashed in. I figured ult God's Encampment: sand shield legion push. But Sivir had Magic Barrier to block one skill. Expected block. Nope—Sivir got shoved anyway.
Replay slowed it: Wish entered tower range; Classic mobility dashed in. Sivir barrier up for ult—but Classic active'd Hand of the Victor's Flame item to remove it! Sivir flashed; Classic flashed after, ulted. Dodge, pursue, dodge, pursue—trapped. Sivir, Nautilus, Schwarz's Medusa shoved into A1 team. Pros cleaned up the 1-2 second stun window. Superplay flipped the game; A1 reversed, shattered ZE core. 3-0 A1 champs.
Time was tight for ceremony, so we left. But Classic's play burned in my mind—heart pounding recalling it. I want to do that. I want to play WoL.
“Yunho?”
Sister's voice snapped me back. “Fun today, right?” She grinned brightly. Seeing it, I got why she dragged me: worry after quitting Go. Sisters gonna sister.
“Noona.” I called her that for the first time in forever.
“Whoa, what'd I do to earn a 'noona'? Say it more often.”
“...Teach me WoL?”
Her eyes widened, staring blankly.
Uh... bad ask?