Return to the Dragon Palace
The early Guild War League was nothing like the spectacle it is today.
The great mage Jamal Popper founded it with the noble ideal of “freeing humanity from the terror of gates.” Yet what the public truly wanted was not lofty ideals, but simple fun and excitement to enjoy with a beer after a long day’s work.
— “A league only voyeurs who get off on watching long, boring raids would bother with.”
— “Even my damn dog could put on a better show than this.”
Faced with such raw public criticism, the so-called purists denounced the masses as fools. But Jamal Popper, true to his name as the great sage of the age, searched for the fault within himself rather than blaming others.
— “Do not become buried in value. A thing’s worth does not change simply because its purpose does.”
— “We are not the answer. Of course, neither are they. If no perfect answer exists, then the best one is whatever satisfies the greatest number, is it not?”
A war transformed into entertainment by remodeling gates into field generators that altered physical laws, established rules, and created modes.
Making that spectacle something the public could watch and enjoy—like a sports competition.
Named the Great Antagonistic War.
It was a masterstroke that raised the Guild War League to the greatest show on earth.
It was here.
The big one had arrived.
The day had finally come.
Nine years ago, on a day much like this, the ailing dragon had collapsed miserably in this very place.
Even amid endless mockery and persecution, the dragon’s followers had screamed their throats raw in support. Yet in the end the dragon could only lie there with an oxygen mask, waiting for death.
It had been a brutal time.
Days of pure agony.
An ordeal so severe that even the staunchest followers—who had proudly shouted for glory through countless layers of oppression—had nearly broken.
But.
Somehow.
The dragon in the ICU had returned from the brink of death.
It had shown them a miracle and risen once more.
And today, at last, it told them:
We have come home.
“Hic… it’s the Dragon Palace. It’s really Yonggung… hiccup.”
The first match after Mir Guild’s promotion to League 3.
In front of the crudely rising wall built on an abandoned factory lot in a corner of Yeongdo, Toegail-jwa Park Seong-cheol wept without end.
Though it had the proper name Mir Stadium, this sanctuary—more often called the Dragon Palace by the Yongbungs—was their home ground.
A place they had never once been able to use after falling to the 4th Division.
“Damn it… hic.”
He had sworn he wouldn’t cry on the way down from Seoul, yet the moment he remembered coming here as a child holding his father’s hand, the tears refused to stop.
“What’s a grown man doing crying like that?”
“Then what’s that in your eyes, Dad?”
“Salt water.”
This father and son were not the only ones.
Groups of young people in casual clothes stood nearby.
“I last saw it when I was in middle school. I can’t believe I’m back.”
“Fuck… the tears just won’t stop.”
Even the middle-aged men who had chartered an entire bus.
“Man, I missed you so much!”
“Please, guys—let’s not get sent down again!”
And even that elderly couple with white hair.
“I told you I’d come before I died.”
“…You win the bet. It was supposed to be a Chanel bag, right?”
“It’s Hermès.”
The Mir Guild fans packing the stadium grounds laughed and cried together before the Dragon Palace gates that had remained closed for a full nine years.
“Let’s head in.”
“Just a second.”
Look at me, losing my mind.
Wiping his eyes roughly, Park Seong-cheol lived up to his nickname and posted a photo of the emotional scene to the community.
So it was that ten million Yongbungs—both offline and online—entered the stadium wrapped in overwhelming emotion.
The moment they passed through the old gates, the musty smell of stone walls tickled their noses.
It was an ancient stadium, so there was only one concession stand. Veteran Yongbungs had not forgotten to bring fried chicken, pig’s feet, and plenty of snacks on the way in.
Was it just his imagination, or were a suspicious number of thermoses visible? And why did the menu seem to call for them?
…This was exactly why sharp-eyed people were annoying.
“Did you get through?”
“It’s Dad. You?”
“The miracle of pouring dark beer into a coffee cup and turning it into an Americano.”
“That’s my boy. Smart like your old man.”
Pushed along by the crowd into the winding passage, they saw a faint glow at the far end of the dark tunnel.
Not sunlight, but the brilliant shimmer of multicolored aurora light pouring from the exit.
And when they finally reached the end—
The stadium opened before them.
Five thousand seats arranged in a circle around the central arena (the artificial gate).
Their skin prickled.
“You feel that shiver too, right? Makes it real.”
“Yeah… it really does.”
Just as his father said, the tingling flow of magic power radiating from the magic lights made them feel, once again, that this was truly a battlefield.
They wanted to see the match right now.
It seemed everyone felt the same; people rubbed their hands nervously and kept checking the time.
“How are you already this excited? Bro, it’s top, mid, and bot from that side, right?”
“Once the match starts the field deploys. That area over there is the base, minions spawn from there, you kill them to earn Burn Coins, buy buffs, and the key is destroying the main objectives.”
“Kid, it’s not that complicated. Just remember this: best of five. Win three and it’s over. Destroy the enemy nexus and you win. Easy, right?”
“Subin’s playing, yeah? I just need to watch Subin.”
Everyone was buzzing with excitement.
Not a single person gathered here doubted that their guild would gift them a first-round victory today.
They were ready to scream until their throats gave out.
That was what it meant to be a fan in love with a guild.
MIR GUILD
VS
BAEKSEOK GUILD
Before the match, during the final meeting.
The captain of Baekseok Guild gathered his team and shouted.
“Did you see it outside? Mir Guild here, Mir Guild there—the whole world is nothing but Mir Guild! Not a single article about our Baekseok Guild!”
“Our opponents are a guild that was rolling around in the 4th Division until last season. Legendary this, Mountain King that—doesn’t matter! They’re still 4th Division trash! Doesn’t that piss you off? After rotting in the 4th Division for nearly ten years, we finally crawl up to the 3rd Division only to become side characters for these has-beens!”
Anger was an excellent motivator.
The Baekseok Guild captain sharply pointed out how they had been reduced to mere footnotes due to the opponent’s popularity and fanbase, demanding they fight with everything they had. Perhaps thanks to that, furious flames now burned in his comrades’ eyes—flames hot enough to incinerate everything around them.
“It’s not for nothing that the wall between League 3 and League 4 is called the Wall of Lamentation or the Wall of Demons. Historically, teams promoted from below almost never perform well without an adjustment period.”
Even fans with the patience of tissue paper would still applaud a newly promoted team if it simply managed to avoid relegation in its first year.
Many experts cited two main reasons.
The first was the lack of experience.
Put bluntly, how many of them had ever fought humans? This wasn’t sparring. This was real combat. In extreme terms, they had to be ready not just to think about killing their opponent, but to actually do it—to drive blades into flesh and unleash magic without hesitation.
Yet any normal person would instinctively freeze the moment their opponent’s life was truly on the line. Rooted morality and social norms would halt their bodies.
The second was the information gap created by positional differences.
A team on the verge of promotion wouldn’t have hidden their full strength. They would have used every last drop of power to rise. Those waiting above therefore held a relative advantage in information.
Baekseok Guild had already finished meticulously dissecting Mir Guild’s weaknesses.
“The situation smiles on us. Aside from the Mountain King, every one of them is a complete rookie who has never even experienced a competitive match before. You remember your debut, don’t you? There are fourteen of those fledglings on a single team!”
“Their squad is clearly abnormal. They possess high combat ability, but each individual’s field of vision is absurdly narrow. They can fight well but cannot read the war itself. The Mountain King is simply covering for their heads.”
Therefore—
“Our target is the Mountain King! Only the Mountain King! There is no need to pay attention to the others! The analysis is already complete!”
No matter how fierce the beast, it dies when its head is cut off.
Thus—
“If we take down the Mountain King, this game is over.”
Meanwhile, the Mir Guild waiting room was calm in contrast to Baekseok’s fiery atmosphere.
Tension, nervousness, anxiety, anticipation, excitement…
Looking at his young comrades swept up in the pressure of a League 3 stage and the burden of their first official match, Kim Jong-phil could only smile.
“It seems you are nervous.”
“N-no, sir.”
“We’re fine.”
“Are you? Because I am trembling.”
“…!!”
There was a time for scolding and a time for comfort.
This was clearly the latter.
For people already this overwhelmed, a complicated strategy meeting would be a waste of time. It was far better to ease the mood with ordinary conversation.
“I debuted at eighteen. Back then I was a wild brat who went around saying ‘I am the strongest!’ as if it were a habit. It is fortunate I was called the Mountain King and managed to preserve some dignity. Otherwise… ah, the thought alone is frightening.”
“Sometimes when I remember those days I still kick my blankets at night. You young ones call it ‘blanket kick,’ yes?”
Kim Jong-phil, dressed in the white traditional robes that had become his symbol, gently stroked the wall with his thick palm and continued his story in a calm voice.
“In truth, I was afraid. What if I was not as great as I believed myself to be? At the time I knew nothing. I had to walk forward without knowing the path ahead or what I needed to accomplish.”
“So what I wish to tell you is this: it is only natural that you tremble now. Do not deny the fear born from ignorance. Every beginning is frightening and uncertain. This place is new to all of you, and you know nothing of competitive matches.”
That was what a beginning was.
Something anticipated and exciting, yet at the same time frightening and uncertain.
But turning back or giving up and stopping would change nothing.
Only those who advance could claim anything—even if what they gained was not success, but growth.
“Good. The comforting talk is over. I trust there is no fool here who wishes to roll around in League 4 forever?”
Empathy drew out their emotions.
Before anyone realized it, the raid team’s atmosphere had softened noticeably.
“I will not speak long. Do not get excited. When you grow excited your body stiffens, and when your body stiffens you make mistakes. Simply do what you have been doing. Open your ears and your mouths. Trust your comrades and breathe with them.”
Just then, the signal arrived.
“Let us go.”
The Mountain King strode toward the gate leading to the arena, his white robes fluttering behind him.
Four members followed, the ones who would compete in the match.
They stepped into a magical current different from that of a raid gate.
When they opened their eyes again—
“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaah——!!”
The ground shook.
The world vibrated.
The roar of fans filling the stadium.
Thunderous applause pouring in from every direction.
It was pure ecstasy.
Even the last traces of tension melted away like snow.
“Both guilds, please step forward.”
Following the referee’s instruction, the two guilds gathered.
They shook hands, then each team took their positions on the magic circles of their respective bases.
At that moment the referee struck the floor with his staff.
The magic power writhing beneath their feet scattered into brilliant rays of light. When they opened their eyes after the blinding flash, a mysterious new world lay before them.
A dense forest made of trees and woodland.
This was the Canyon of the competitive match.
A sandglass rotated in the air. The timer appeared.
00:00…… 00:01…… 00:02…….
The match had begun!
Top, mid, bottom.
The hunters split off along the three diverging paths.