Kill the Saudi League
The Mir Guild headquarters.
The original building that had stood firm since the day the Mir Guild was founded was now trembling under an avalanche of ringing phones.
Riiing—!
Riiing—!
“Mir Guild, how may I help you? Yes, that’s correct… Where did you say you were calling from?”
“It doesn’t matter whether you’re an individual or a guild. The Mir Guild is currently open to everyone…”
“If you tell us your business first, we’ll guide you through the proper channels. Yes, that’s right…”
“I’m afraid I can’t transfer you to the PR team or any other department. Yes, this line is the only one…”
In the Strategic Planning Office, the staff handled the deluge of calls with professional calm.
Lee Shin had always been brutally honest with himself. Self-awareness was his guiding line.
The line between what he could do and what he wanted to do.
The line between what he was allowed to do and what he had to do.
That line had to be respected at all costs.
For example, leading the season to victory was the very purpose of the genius representative Lee Shin. Making the league entertaining, however, was nothing more than the desire of the washed-up Professor Lee.
If the representative harmed the guild he had built and the priceless hunters he had nurtured just to satisfy a personal craving, that would be the ultimate case of putting the cart before the horse.
This very scene was the perfect embodiment of Lee Shin’s ruthless self-awareness.
He had relegated all league-related duties to the annex where the guild leader and vice-leader worked, while the staff in the main building’s Strategic Planning Office were left to clean up the chaos he created.
Just like now.
“There are no registration restrictions for Mir Academy. No age limits, and it doesn’t matter if someone was already an Awakener or not. There will, however, be a separate screening process…”
“You want to participate in next season’s training camp? Yes, the training camp will indeed be held…”
The two main tasks flooding the office were exactly what everyone expected.
First was Mir Academy, which had only existed in rumors until now.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose the exact curriculum. Everything will be decided after the screening. You don’t like the screening process? Then you’re free to leave.”
“The tuition is exactly as announced. As for special exceptions, Mir Academy will not make any. I can promise you that without exception.”
“Ma’am, please calm down. Yes, yes. For those in difficult financial situations, Ido Bank will be offering loans. So please don’t worry too much.”
The academy had already become a hot topic among parents of young Awakeners.
Of course it had. When people thought of training, they thought of Lee Shin. And when they thought of Lee Shin, they thought of training.
He had raised three rankers—each one considered a lifetime achievement for any trainer—and all of them had cracked the single-digit rankings.
Could my son become a genius? Could my daughter become the next Blitz?
What parent could resist that temptation?
The excited parents were already scouting one-room apartments around Busan.
The second flood of calls concerned the training camp.
“The training camp is scheduled for the off-season before next season. Applications are accepted only in person. We expect to accept between four and six guilds at most.”
“Second Division or Third Division doesn’t matter. Fourth Division would be difficult, though. Since our representative personally selects the participating guilds, I can’t share the exact screening criteria.”
While the academy was the main draw for civilians, this was what the guilds truly cared about.
They had seen what it could do.
The training camp that once only fixed weaknesses had, under Lee Shin’s guidance, allowed two guilds to not only correct their flaws but acquire entirely new weapons.
It was only natural that the world’s guild leaders were losing their minds.
Some had already started quietly offering under-the-table bonuses.
At this point, the so-called “big guilds” that could drop tens or hundreds of billions for a single season victory had begun looking for alternative channels.
If the training camp was like attending a cram school, then they wanted one-on-one private lessons even if it cost extra.
The consulting requests currently pouring in for Yun Cho-a were exactly that.
“Yes, Celtic representative. This is Yun Cho-a.”
Yun Cho-a responded in fluent English, her tone ice-cold.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, but our representative has made it clear he will not accept any consulting requests during the league season.”
The voice on the other end exploded again.
“This is not a negotiation tactic. Whether you offer two Legendary items or three, our representative has stated he will not move from his position. I apologize.”
The shouting grew even louder.
“Please calm down. The Mets Guild was a special case due to MK’s personal connection. We have no conflict of interest with Celtic that would cause us to reject you. Yes, yes. This is absolutely not an emotional decision.”
The Celtic representative was practically wailing now—the voice of a giant from North America’s largest market, the powerhouse of the East. Yet Yun Cho-a didn’t even blink.
This wasn’t her first rodeo.
The notebook in front of her contained a list of guilds that had already gone through every stage: begging, threatening, pleading again, and finally shouting “Do you know who I am?”
The Celtic representative eventually ran out of steam and raised the white flag. Yun Cho-a delivered a mechanical farewell.
“Yes, the Mir Guild keeps its doors open to every guild in the world. Please visit us anytime. Take your time and contact us when you’ve made a decision.”
Click.
The call ended. Yun Cho-a let out a long breath.
Then, without looking, she reached a hand over her shoulder.
“Thanks. Coffee.”
“…You really are a ghost.”
“I can tell by your footsteps. Did you add syrup?”
“Miss Yun, can’t you at least pretend to be surprised?”
The man holding out the coffee was Chae Dong-ha. He had even gone up on his tiptoes to surprise her, but it was impossible to escape the senses of a martial artist who had reached Yun Cho-a’s level.
Chae Dong-ha wrinkled his nose in mild dissatisfaction.
Yun Cho-a took a sip of the sweet coffee and smiled with her eyes. He really was adorable.
Meanwhile, Chae Dong-ha glanced at the names written in her notebook.
“Whoa… These are all guilds that requested consulting?”
“There were a lot of requests. These are the ones I had to handle personally.”
“I can see that. Quite the impressive lineup.”
They were all major players in their respective leagues. Among the names, one unexpected entry made Chae Dong-ha tilt his head.
“Shinsengumi? You don’t mean the Shinsengumi Guild…”
“The Japanese Shinsengumi Guild. The one we faced in the Asia League.”
“…They contacted us?”
“Contacted us? They were extremely aggressive about it.”
After the previous representative, Tatsugoro, had stepped down to take responsibility for their poor performance, rumors had circulated that the Shinsengumi Guild’s internal atmosphere was terrible. Still, Chae Dong-ha hadn’t expected them to reach out this desperately.
“Is the rumor true? That the Sword Saint and the new representative are engaged in a power struggle?”
“Probably. Who do you think called?”
“Who?”
“The Sword Saint himself.”
“Wow… What a mess. Is this also part of Tatsugoro’s luck?”
“Luck?”
“Something our representative once said.”
“Ah…”
Yun Cho-a suddenly looked around as if remembering something.
“Where is the representative? Weren’t you with him?”
She had heard he was summoned at the crack of dawn. She naturally assumed he would return with Lee Shin, so she was curious why Chae Dong-ha had come back alone.
Chae Dong-ha grinned playfully and tapped the notebook.
“He’s meeting someone who makes every name on this list look like small fry.”
The observatory at the summit of Yeongdo.
Lee Shin approached the man who was gazing at the scenery beyond the window with a coffee in hand.
“What do you think? Not bad, right? Here you go.”
“Thank you. It truly is magnificent.”
The man who accepted the coffee was Crown Prince Muhammad, known as the Hope of the Desert.
He was genuinely impressed by the view of Yeongdo spread out before him.
“I had heard that Yongwanggung is one of the world’s most renowned stadiums, but I didn’t realize it would be this grand.”
“The pictures don’t do it justice, do they?”
“It’s like comparing sand to the desert. Beyond comparison.”
“When a match starts, that stadium fills to capacity. The disappointed fans gather in groups at Mir City. You see those screens over there?”
“I’ve heard about it. Street cheering is apparently normal in Busan.”
“It’s more than just cheering. Each shop has its own theme and style of support. Soft fans cheer softly, wild fans cheer wildly. It’s a whole culture.”
“A culture… How fascinating.”
“You really have to experience it yourself. It’s incredibly fun.”
Lee Shin continued the tour, pointing out the Choi Ga Pharmaceutical building, the Breath Forge, the second stadium that was currently drawing global attention, and the facility now known as Mir Academy.
The more he heard, the more convinced the Crown Prince became.
I was right to come.
He knew better than anyone that Saudi Arabia lagged far behind in the guild sector.
They couldn’t shake off their second-rate league label. Their organizations were filled with has-beens who had big names but no substance—an old boys’ club.
This wise prince understood all of it.
But there was a world of difference between acknowledging failure in the abstract and witnessing true success with your own eyes.
It was like a vague sketch suddenly taking clear shape.
Then a voice in his ear made the Crown Prince’s eyes widen in shock.
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Having to deal with incompetent blood relatives.”
“!!”
The prince’s startled gaze turned to Lee Shin, but Lee Shin’s eyes remained fixed on the view outside the window.
“Saudi Arabia. An oil-producing nation, birthplace of Islam, home to holy sites, and an absolute monarchy ruled by the House of Saud. I won’t bother with any of that. From now on, everything I say will concern only guilds and leagues.”
He drew a clear line at politics, religion, and sensitive topics.
As expected of a sharp young man. The Crown Prince nodded readily.
“Speak freely. I give you my word that I will not take offense at anything you say from this point forward.”
“Then I’ll be direct.”
Lee Shin went straight for the throat.
“The Saudi League, in a word, is a league where the pet projects of nouveau riche gather.”
“!!”
What was a nouveau riche?
Someone with money but no established system, short history, or wealth gained not through sweat, effort, or special skill but through sheer luck. That was what people called a nouveau riche.
And what was a “pet project”?
Breaking down the word: love and play. Something you love and play with.
It used to be said of dogs and cats, but honestly, it wasn’t a particularly positive term. That was why people now preferred “companion animal.”
Put together, it meant that in a league with neither history nor proper systems, guilds created out of a representative’s affection and interest were simply playing around.
“A league that supports itself with money where skill should be is never going to function properly.”
“…That stings. Please continue.”
“The absence of skill is the core of the problem.”
When skill didn’t matter, there was no motivation.
Without motivation, people saw no need to climb higher. Ambition died.
The same applied to competitive spirit. Why compete? To win. But when everyone around you was a fat, satisfied pig, what was the point of winning?
“No matter how talented a hunter is, training is always difficult and painful. I’ll show you our guild’s training sometime. They roll around until they taste iron in their mouths.”
“Even rankers? There’s a girl named Ri-ra. Yes, the Blitz. Do you know when she trains with the most passion? When I tell her, ‘If you set a new record, I’ll cancel afternoon training.’ At those times, Ri-ra moves faster than light.”
Desire for improvement. Competitive spirit. Fighting spirit.
Leagues were made of guilds, and guilds were made of hunters.
If hunters stopped improving, if they stopped looking upward, the league would stagnate. What stagnated would rot, and eventually… die.
Lee Shin finally turned his gaze to the Crown Prince.
“The Crown Prince I know is a very wise and intelligent man.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“The reason you came all the way here wasn’t simply because of the guild. You wanted to ask about the Saudi League as a whole. Am I wrong?”
“You are not.”
“To fix this league of nouveau riche that your incompetent blood relatives have ruined, you are willing to do anything. Because it concerns the future of your kingdom.”
“You speak as if you have seen into my heart.”
“No matter how difficult it may be?”
“I have made up my mind. If I can plant a passionate culture like this in Saudi Arabia, I am prepared to do anything.”
“I see. Then let me give you the answer.”
Lee Shin smiled brightly.
“Kill it. The Saudi League. With your own hands, Your Highness.”
The Saudi League had to disappear.