Kim Byeol-ha stared blankly at the paperwork.
"Ten members, a dungeon clear, and a district," he read aloud, eyebrows twitching. "Are we forming a guild or applying for a mortgage?"
Park Jun-ho, his eternally reluctant neighbor and now part-time information broker (unpaid, naturally), sat across from him sipping tea like a man too old to argue.
"That's the minimum requirement," Jun-ho said. "Can't just let anyone form a guild. You know how many idiots tried to make one with their cat as the vice-leader?"
"...Did it work?" Byeol-ha asked, intrigued.
"It was a disaster," Jun-ho said flatly. "But a very adorable disaster."
Byeol-ha rubbed his temples.
So far, he had:
Himself (divine mess in a hoodie)
Eo-ra (ex-star contractor with a deadly sense of sarcasm)
Bit-na (overworked ramen chef and secret war general in disguise)
Seo-jin (human sponge with no powers but high survival stats)
Two children (more competent than some adults)
That made six.
They were short four people, a dungeon clear, and official territory.
"You'd think saving the world would come with less bureaucracy," Byeol-ha muttered.
Jun-ho shrugged.
"Even heroes need permits now."
Meanwhile, across the battered stretch of District 8 — where broken buildings leaned like drunk uncles and the air smelled faintly of burnt plastic and despair — a very different sort of meeting was taking place.
At the northern barricade, the leaders of the Five Great Guilds stood in a loose circle, all looking unusually grumpy.
Mostly because none of them liked to lose.
And they had, repeatedly.
The S-class dungeon that opened three days ago had swallowed elite teams like a vending machine eats coins.Monsters spawned every night.The terrain kept shifting.One section had gravity-flipping corridors.Another had time loops.
It was chaos. Pure, delicious chaos. And they hated it.
Baek Ryeo-woon of Oblivion Guild stood with his arms crossed, face unreadable, faint bandages still peeking from under his black shirt. He looked calm, but every second they stayed here, his eye twitched just a little harder.
"This dungeon," he said coolly, "is designed to waste our time."
Lee Min-ah of Silverfang Dominion rolled her eyes.
"And resources," she added. "We lost two spirit beasts yesterday. You know how long it takes to retrain a lava wolf?"
"Three months," Ryu Shi-won chimed in, smirking. "One month if you bribe it with cooked mackerel."
"Can we stay on topic?" Han Yoo-seok of Ironblood Vanguard said dryly. "We've already sent four coordinated raids. All failed. The dungeon regenerates faster than we can clear it."
"It's not just regeneration," Park Seul-bi of Celestial Dawn said quietly. "It adapts. Learns."
Her words hung in the air like a curse.
They all knew what she meant.
Seeded dungeon.Either a Star's direct influence… or something worse.
"Another full-scale push will cost more lives," Ryeo-woon said. "We need to change tactics."
"I'm listening," Yoo-seok said, arms folded like a disappointed dad.
"We retreat," Ryeo-woon said plainly.
A pause. A breath.
Ryu Shi-won blinked. "That… sounds like common sense. Are you okay?"
"I'm not suicidal, Shi-won," Ryeo-woon said dryly. "Just tired."
"You only say that after losing a fight," Min-ah teased.
Ryeo-woon ignored her.
"We pull out. Post defense lines around the spawn zones. Treat the dungeon as a leak, not a raid. Let the monsters come to us."
Park Seul-bi nodded slowly. "Less loss. More control."
"But District 8 has no guild," Yoo-seok reminded them. "No local support. That area will collapse under pressure."
Ryeo-woon glanced at the charred, abandoned skyline.
"District 8 collapsed ten years ago," he said. "We're just playing janitor now."
A heavy silence followed.
For all their power, none of the Five wanted District 8. No resources. No central population. Just ruins, disease, and strays.
"We rotate coverage," Ryeo-woon said. "Each guild patrols the edges. We keep the spawns contained until the dungeon burns out or another team forms capable of clearing it."
"You mean a new guild?" Ryu Shi-won raised an eyebrow. "Who'd be stupid enough to form one here?"
"No one sane," Min-ah said with a smirk.
"Then we should prepare for permanent outposts," Yoo-seok added. "This isn't going away quickly."
Seul-bi sighed. "And I was hoping to finish that greenhouse in District 14."
Ryeo-woon turned slightly, staring into the distance toward the center of District 8.
"There's... something strange here," he murmured. "Like we're missing a piece."
Min-ah glanced at him.
"You mean besides the suicidal architecture, unpredictable terrain, and moon-colored monsters?"
Ryeo-woon didn't answer.
But something was bothering him.
He could feel it in the back of his mind — a pulse, faint and distant.
Something was watching.
Something older.
But not hostile.
Not yet.
"Keep your comms open," he said aloud. "Something's going to change soon."
"Something always does," Ryu Shi-won muttered.
And with that, the leaders of the Five turned away from the dungeon, their retreat not a surrender — but a grim tactical pause.
For now.
Back at the Kim household, Byeol-ha scribbled something on a napkin with spiritual ink and held it up proudly.
"Alright!" he said. "Let's brainstorm guild names!"
Bit-na glanced up from cleaning rice.
"I swear, if you call it something weird, I'm not feeding you tonight."
Seo-jin leaned in cautiously. "What's the current draft?"
Byeol-ha grinned.
"'Chaotic Ramen Protection Squad.'"
"…No," Eo-ra said immediately.
"We are not a noodle cult," Bit-na added.
"Yet," Byeol-ha whispered under his breath.
After a while.
"I've gathered you all here," Kim Byeol-ha announced, standing proudly in front of his exhausted, overfed, and under-impressed family, "to witness the birth of something legendary."
He paused for dramatic effect, then held up a wrinkled paper.
"Behold — our guild name options."
Han Seo-jin leaned forward slowly, suspicious.
Kim Hee-chan tilted his head, one eyebrow raised like a disapproving little landlord.
Kim Hwa-jin simply crossed his arms and stared.
Byeol-ha cleared his throat and read the first name.
"Option One: The Shadow Noodle Alliance."
Silence.
Seo-jin blinked. "...You're joking, right?"
"Absolutely not," Byeol-ha replied proudly. "Think about it. It's got mystery, carbs, and camaraderie."
"You're mixing ramen and ninjas," Seo-jin said. "That's not a guild. That's a food truck."
"Exactly! We'll feed and fight."
Kim Hee-chan squinted at his uncle like he was trying to figure out if he'd hit his head too hard in a previous life.
"Uncle," he said hesitantly, "are you doing this on purpose?"
"Doing what on purpose?" Byeol-ha asked, wounded.
"Being unhinged," Hwa-jin said bluntly.
Byeol-ha sniffed.
"Fine. You uncultured mortals clearly don't appreciate poetic branding."
He flipped the page.
"Option Two: Heaven's Dumpster Fire."
Eo-ra made a choking sound.
"Byeol-ha."
"Yes?"
"If you submit that name, I'll blindfold myself and still find where to smack you."
"Duly noted," he said, flipping the paper again. "Okay, okay. New vibe. More serious. How about…"
He cleared his throat and tried to sound regal.
"The Eternal Banana Guild."
Seo-jin buried his face in his hands.
Hee-chan stood up. "I'm getting paper. I'll write the name."
"Hold on, you haven't even heard the fourth one," Byeol-ha protested.
"No," Hwa-jin said. "No more fruit."
"Fine," Byeol-ha sighed, flopping onto the couch like a defeated anime protagonist. "I was trying to bring some creative edge to this apocalypse, but whatever."
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "people just don't understand comedy genius."
Bit-na walked in, holding a tray of sliced apples for the kids, looking at her brother like she was debating if kicking him would cause structural damage to the floor.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said slowly, "but we need an actual name. A real one. Not something you'd find in the rejected files of a failed webtoon."
Byeol-ha raised a hand weakly. "I was going for irony."
"You were going for insanity," Seo-jin corrected.
Bit-na set the tray down and folded her arms. Her tone shifted — not angry, not annoyed, but calm. Focused.
"We're going to build something real here," she said. "A guild that protects people like us. The ones with no homes. No backers. No resources."
The kids stopped bickering. Even Hwa-jin looked at her with quiet curiosity.
Bit-na met everyone's gaze.
"We're not the strongest. We're not the richest. But we connect. We survived. We're still here. And now we're pulling others in — protecting each other."
Eo-ra nodded slowly.
Seo-jin looked thoughtful.
Byeol-ha sat up slightly, watching her.
"So," Bit-na said with finality, "we're naming the guild—Nexus."
Everyone paused.
The name settled like a soft wind through a quiet morning.
Kim Hee-chan blinked.
Hwa-jin's eyes lit up a bit.
Seo-jin said, "...That's actually good."
Even Byeol-ha, the King of Chaos Branding, tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Nexus," he repeated. "Connection. Network. A center."
Bit-na nodded.
Then Byeol-ha slowly grinned.
"Okay, okay. That's solid. It's cool, sounds professional, and doesn't have fruit in it."
"I'm glad we set the bar that low," Eo-ra muttered.
"Nexus…" Seo-jin tried it on his tongue. "Sounds like something people might actually respect."
"It sounds real," Hwa-jin said.
Hee-chan crossed his arms. "I still liked Shadow Noodle."
Byeol-ha gave him a solemn thumbs-up. "You have good taste. But democracy has betrayed us today."
Bit-na, still calm, handed the registration tablet she had borrowed from Jun-ho earlier.
"Type it in, Oppa."
Byeol-ha took the device, scrolled to the guild name field, and entered it:
[Guild Name: Nexus]
A soft chime confirmed the input.
"You know," he said, staring at the screen, "this might actually work."
Seo-jin snorted. "Shocking, coming from the guy who tried to name us after a banana."
"Correction," Byeol-ha said with a grin. "An eternal banana."
"Do you want to be banned from your own guild?" Eo-ra asked.
He raised both hands in surrender.