The Return of the Heavy Armor Meta
A dust cloud rose beyond the horizon.
The elf sentry perched in the tree let out a piercing shriek as the cloud hurtled toward them at terrifying speed.
At the sentry’s cry the outpost erupted into motion. Elves burst from every door and barricade, spilling over walls without hesitation.
By then the dust cloud had drawn dangerously close.
The elves formed ranks along the forest’s edge, bows drawn and aimed skyward at the intruders. A volley of arrows blotted out the sun. Enhanced by wind and fire spirits, they slammed into the ground and erupted into roaring crimson flames.
Earth spirits raised triple and quadruple walls while water spirits carved moats between them. The plan was simple: loose arrows when enemies slammed into the barriers, hurl magic when they floundered in the ditches. Should any break through, the elves would simply fall back and repeat the process.
Any force that had chased them this far would stare at the identical defensive line and fall into despair. This was elven soil. In a war of attrition the first to tire would always be the invaders.
And when the enemy finally broke and retreated, the elves would bare their hidden fangs and annihilate them.
That was how elves fought. That was the most perfect strategy they could deploy.
Or so they had believed.
Right up until they faced the raid party hidden inside that oncoming dust cloud.
“Hye-jung.”
“Yes!!”
“Can you hold it until the end?”
“Yes, yes!!”
“Good. I’ll set the course. Keep spreading it.”
The miscalculation had begun at the very first step.
What the elves had mistaken for a dust cloud was actually the poison mist pouring from Lee Hye-jung. It was a buff-type toxin that softened the drain on stamina and magic power while amplifying the side effects of excitement and awakening to their maximum.
Lee Hye-jung’s poison mist exploded toward the defensive line. The Mountain King’s wind spirit immediately seized it, shaping its path.
And then—
“We break their line.”
Massive spells erupted from the cloud all at once.
Lightning hammered down, incinerating the spirit walls. A flaming bird spread its wings and melted everything it touched. Earthen spikes filled the moats while walls of ice sealed away any chance for the water spirits to act.
The moment the defensive formation collapsed, the Mountain King thrust out his arm without hesitation.
Stumps shot from within the poison cloud, carving a brutal path through the battlefield. Vines followed instantly, spreading like a living carpet and paving a smooth road in seconds.
Steel boots rang against that newly made highway.
At some point in the league, tanks with excellent footing had become the meta. Reduce armor weight, shrink the bulky silhouette, then add mobility and agility to boost operational capability. Throw in offensive or buffing specialties and the build became perfect.
Exactly like Park Jeong-seok and his squad.
The meaning was obvious: strip away the tank’s excessive defense and emphasize operational performance.
But if one looked deeper, the question arose—who had started this trend? Who had ushered in the age of the light-armored, high-mobility tank?
It was this man. Mountain King Kim Jong-pil.
The meta he had created.
Which was why Lee Shin had said it: let’s bring back the meta the old man once dominated. Return to the days when the Mountain King was at his absolute peak.
“Yeah. A tanker should act like a tanker.”
Full-plate armor over steel boots. Tower shields. Helmets that completely covered the face.
Not one or two—every single one of them was fully equipped in heavy gear.
A return to the era when tanks were truly tanky.
Average weight including equipment: two hundred and fifty kilograms.
Old school.
The heavy-armor meta.
A flag rose high.
“Bwahahahaha!! Soo-pil, stay behind me!”
“Raise the flag!! Soo-pil!”
“Louder!”
“Chaaaaarge!”
The human tanks kicked off.
Fully buffed, fully doped, and empowered by Choi Soo-pil’s Follow Me!, the six-man heavy tank line charged forward with their eyes fixed only on what lay ahead.
They met the storm of arrows with their bodies. Fire arrows? Merely itchy. Wind spirits? Never heard of them.
Earthen walls were trampled flat. The muddy ground posed no obstacle; the Mountain King’s paved road lay beneath their feet.
Versatility? They could shove it.
Advance. Never stop advancing. They charged with only forward in their eyes.
The elves fell into panic.
Not only had their ironclad defensive line been shredded in seconds, the enemy had somehow grown even faster.
They were already right in front of them.
The elves drew their bows by reflex, but terror was written plainly on their faces.
In the end they had no choice but to step forward themselves.
With a flourish of cloaks, two elder elves surged to the front.
A monstrous bird-shaped high-ranking fire spirit and a horse-shaped high-ranking water spirit shot toward ground and sky respectively.
A sea of flames unfolded across the forest boundary. At the same time, countless water spears filled the air and rained down.
Large-scale spirit magic.
Even so—
“Do not slow down.”
The Mountain King’s order was absolute. Keep charging.
After all, this side had spirits too.
The supreme-grade tree spirit Vita clicked across the air, looked at the water horse and fire monster bird, and curved her eyes in clear mockery.
You dare challenge me?
Vita’s horn blazed with green light. Wind hawks spread their wings along the glow, while water rats erupted from the torn earth.
Large-scale spirit magic? This was legion-scale spirit magic.
Thousands of wind and water spirits collided with the fiery waves and water spears, birthing a breathtaking aurora. The battlefield glowed beneath a dazzling curtain of light.
And beneath that radiance the two forces finally slammed together.
“Got you, bwahahaha!”
“Kill them all!”
The tanks in wedge formation crashed straight through. Elves were sent flying like bloody rags. The survivors ignored their fallen comrades, raised their daggers, and charged.
Only six enemies. Surround them and cut off their breath.
Hundreds of elves tried to form an encirclement with daggers and arrows—
But it was never completed.
Because an elf’s head flew off just before it could close.
“You worked hard.”
“Our turn now.”
“I was getting bored.”
The close-range dealers who had followed close behind drove their weapons into vital points. Spears pierced throats. Blades severed limbs.
When the elves struck back, the attackers simply laughed.
One stepped inside an elf’s reach, grabbed it by the throat, and snapped its neck.
Over the past several days the raid party had learned—thanks to Madam Lee’s son—just how far they could be torn apart and still keep fighting.
Attacks like these were nothing more than tickles.
They took what they could endure with their bodies and repaid the pain with merciless interest.
The dealers rampaged through the elven formation like wild beasts. In the gaps they created, long-range dealers poured down coordinated fire. The tanks, having caught their breath, joined with maces and warhammers.
The elves were being pulverized in real time.
Desperate, they searched for any weakness.
Then they spotted a lone human standing off to the side. A frail-looking boy leaning on crutches, as if his legs were bad. His sky-blue eyes made him seem all the more delicate.
That’s the weak point. Break through there.
Elves with daggers sprinted forward while archers followed behind.
Of course, they had no idea.
That the boy stood alone because mixing with others was too dangerous for them. That the crutch was merely for his peace of mind. And that those delicate sky-blue eyes carried the heavens themselves.
“……”
Baek Yeon-woo tossed his crutch aside and walked forward slowly.
The sword he drew traced an elegant arc through the air. Incoming arrows snapped in half and fell uselessly to the ground.
With another indifferent swing the incoming spells were disassembled as if they had never existed.
When he twisted his body slightly, a hidden elf stabbed empty air.
Eyes that could read both arrow trajectories and the very structure of magic power would never miss something as crude as stealth.
An elf collapsed, spraying blood.
Baek Yeon-woo’s sword drew simple lines—down, up, sideways—each stroke perfectly efficient.
He engraved his existence onto the battlefield with the corpses he left in his wake.
The momentum of the main force had completely shifted to the Mir raid party.
At this rate defeat was certain. They needed to either rally their morale or order a retreat. A decision had to be made.
Yet the two elder elves who should have been making that decision were in no position to do so.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch…!
Hwa-rang’s cloak billowed as she unleashed a barrage of shield charges.
High-speed charges that mixed advance, retreat, and rapid direction changes. Combined with her endless stamina, the result was a perfect fusion of offense and defense that could not be stopped even when predicted.
To escape this hell, there were only two choices: defeat her in close combat or create distance.
The elder elves chose the latter. Engaging her up close was suicide.
But waiting on their retreat path was already a monster—Park Su-bin, arms spread wide with the milky-white giant.
“You may not pass.”
This was why the elder elves’ spirits had failed to secure an escape route earlier. The fire monster bird had spewed crimson flames. The water horse had hurled spears, swords, bows, axes—every weapon water could form.
None of it mattered.
The giant’s arms crushed everything. At times one arm would split into countless orbs of light, sealing off the entire area.
From ordinary elves to elder elves, none could do anything. They were completely surrounded.
There was only one thing left.
“Requesting reinforcements.”
The Mountain King, floating in the sky, looked toward the horizon.
Another dust cloud was rising—an elf detachment coming to rescue them.
Perfect timing.
When he turned his head, a second dust cloud had appeared on the opposite side as well.
“Uwaaaaaak!!”
Yu Ri-ra screamed as she led the elf unit in a frantic chase.
Perhaps because of the sniped shoulder, the elder elf pursuing her roared in fury from the very front.
One force coming to rescue, the other in pursuit.
Elf detachments closing in from both sides.
The Mountain King, watching from above, exchanged a glance with Vita.
It was time.
At his signal, the faster members of the raid party—including Lee Hye-jung—fell back and scattered in every direction.
“Watch the points carefully.”
Instead of answering they dug at predetermined spots and buried magic stones infused with Vita’s power.
Once every preparation was complete, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence.
The rescue detachment and the pursuit force both entered the outpost after passing through the forest. At the same time the elder elf who had come to help frowned, searching for something.
It should be here… Following the rescue signal into a hut, he found an elder elf with all four limbs shattered, buried in the dirt.
Something was wrong.
The startled elder elf rushed back out—
And froze.
Trees. Endless trees were shooting skyward.
The trees engraved with Vita’s magic stones reproduced rapidly, forming a dome-shaped prison.
A perfect wooden prison where magic was useless, arrows meaningless, and even light could not enter. It sank into the ground and vanished without a trace.
As if it had never existed.
Time passed.
The Mountain King, now standing on solid ground, examined the item pulled free by the roots.
◈ A bow that only a select few among the forest race of elves may wield.
◈ Receives the blessing of spirit power, granting high attack power and extended range.
“Battle over.”
815 elves.
4 elder elves.
Total annihilation.
* * *
Meanwhile, at that same moment.
Inside the forest where Lee Shin and the Mir raid party had entered the gate.
In the pitch-black darkness, sparks suddenly flashed. The countless gates scattered throughout the area were spitting sparks—not just a few, but every single one of them.
The flying sparks reacted with their surroundings.
They resonated, forming white bands.
Eventually they began absorbing the ambient magic power in the air.
And then they started growing.
The gates all around them.