The event officially began, setting the game world and beyond ablaze.
Players flocked to the spectator feature, entered the names of the guilds they followed, and joined the arena from a free camera perspective.
Among them, the Temple Guild, home to the God King, became the focus of the opening match.
As the teleportation light faded, the Divine Hall Warband appeared on the battlefield.
At the forefront, the God King wore black, the hem of his garment fluttering faintly in an invisible current. He stood atop a giant black-armored serpent with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the hostile guild entering in the distance.
He was the Divine Hall Warband's anchor, its undisputed soul.
Behind him, the members of the Divine Hall Warband stood in solemn ranks.
Every one of them was a battle-hardened weapon, their auras honed and their gazes sharp, power coiled within them and ready to erupt. Just standing there, they radiated a murderous presence forged through blood and fire, unbroken by a hundred battles. It surged toward their opponents like a tangible force, as if declaring to the entire arena—and every spectator—what the strongest fighting force in the Player Camp looked like.
The opposing warband appeared at that moment, a small group of a little over a thousand players.
When they looked up and saw the God King atop the black-armored serpent, along with the Temple Guild's fearsome elite, their expressions became quite something.
"Are you fucking kidding me? How did this piece-of-shit system match us? We're out before the match even starts?"
"Let's fight them... Never mind, we're just getting farmed this round. Why did we have to get matched against the Temple Guild? Our guild leader said before we entered that we could win at least three matches. Now we won't even