Legendary Broken Player - VRMMORPG

When Queen Nerisa first arrived on the Floating Island, no one dared to approach her.

The sheer presence she carried—an overwhelming aura of power wrapped in elegance—kept even the boldest workers and warriors at a respectful distance. Whispers traveled quickly through the settlement: The Sea Queen is here. And just like that, an invisible boundary seemed to form around her.

Fortunately, arrangements had already been made. There was a place for her to stay—one of the few private chambers already built within the island. A room spacious, fortified, and positioned with a wide view of the surrounding waters.

It had originally belonged to Broken.

A temporary residence, yes, but it suited the queen’s standards well enough. And now, the chamber that once belonged to the King had a new occupant—one who carried the weight of the ocean with her and could silence a crowd just by walking through it.

At least she had her own space now.

And the island… had a new, very regal guest.

The Queen had indeed kept to herself, rarely leaving her room. When she did, it was only to take quiet walks near the lakeside—and even then, anyone who happened to be nearby quickly cleared the area. It became almost routine: the instant her silhouette appeared, silence followed, and every presence vanished like mist before the tide.

And strangely enough… She seemed to enjoy it.

The fear.

The distance.

As for her forces, they remained beneath the sea, concealed in the ocean’s depths—ready to rise at a moment’s notice should their queen call.

That afternoon, Broken stood beside her near the lake.

“How did you get that tree?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he stared at its form.

“From the forest elves,” Nerisa replied simply. “It was just a tree. Nothing special.”

Broken exhaled slowly.

That tree, the one she so easily dismissed, was the very reason the Floating Island had manifested in Yunatea in the first place.

And yet… maybe it was better that she didn’t know.

Because through this tree, he’d been able to open access to this place. To offer a way in—for allies, for builders, for those he trusted to help build something new.

It was only a matter of time now.

Time until his dream—a kingdom carved in the sky, free and sovereign—became real.

His own kingdom.

***

Broken had been spending a lot of his time focusing on the Tower.

Climbing it. Studying it. Preparing for whatever waited on that elusive 30th floor.

But even with all his effort, he knew—this wasn’t something that could be rushed. The tower was no simple challenge; it was a layered trial, a test of mind, body, and everything in between. Progress was slow, methodical… and it had to be.

Still, in between those grueling trials, he made sure to monitor the ongoing development across the island.

And truth be told, the progress was looking good.

Buildings were rising with structure and purpose. Roads were being paved across key routes. It wasn’t finished yet, not by a long shot.

But every time he walked the island and watched people at work—guild members, builders calling this place home—it reminded him:

It was happening.

Bit by bit, stone by stone… his vision was becoming real.

And then—it came.

A message from Maylock.

Broken opened the glowing interface in front of him, the projection flickering briefly before stabilizing. A shared screen appeared, filled with battlefield markers and detailed troop movements.

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the display.

It was clear. Too clear.

Kesseon Kingdom had begun to move. Large-scale forces were now fully mobilized and gathering just south of Slumdon Town’s border. Encampments had formed. Formations had been spotted. Scout reports were being flagged with urgent status.

They weren’t posturing anymore.

They were preparing for war.

Broken stared at the map in silence, the shifting icons and highlighted zones painting an undeniable picture.

“Are they… really doing this?” he muttered under his breath.

It wasn’t a bluff.

Broken stared at the screen a moment longer, letting the weight of it all settle in his chest.

Then, calmly, he spoke. “We don’t need to bring the entire kingdom into this… not yet.”

On the other side of the call, Maylock nodded, his face steady within the glow of the projection.

“I think that’s the right call,” he replied. “But just so you know—Queen Alora’s been briefed. She said she’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Broken’s eyes stayed locked on the shifting troop markers displayed on the map, his thoughts aligning piece by piece.

“Let’s contain this to the city,” he said. “Slumdon only. Don’t let it escalate into a full-scale war between kingdoms.”

His tone was calm, controlled. “If it comes down to it… we take the city. Completely.”

Maylock responded without hesitation. “Yes… and if war becomes inevitable, we strike hard. Take Vallantar City next. We could seize it before they have time to rally.”

Broken remained silent a beat longer, his expression unreadable.

“But if we push too far, too fast,” he finally added, voice lower now, more cautious, “the other kingdoms will see an opportunity. They’ll smell blood and might strike too.”

He turned his gaze slightly, the light of the map reflecting in his eyes.

“But if we show strength—if we prove we can hold the line and turn the tide… they’ll hesitate. They’ll doubt. They’ll fear what we might do next.”

Sometimes, strength wasn’t about how loud you roared.

It was about how coldly you stood your ground.

Broken exhaled deeply, fingers pressing to his temples as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His shoulders rose and fell in a slow rhythm, as if the weight of not just the war—but everything—had settled there.

He wasn’t afraid of war.

He had seen worse. He had lived through worse.

But this time… it was different.

If this war sparked something larger, something uncontrollable—it wouldn’t just be kingdoms at stake. It would be his people. His children.

He thought of them now. Two tiny lives growing up in a world he was trying to shape with his own hands. And though they were far from this battlefield, the fire of war had a way of reaching even the safest corners of the world.

He hadn’t forgotten what the last war had done to the Dissidia Kingdom. The devastation. The screams. The silence that came after.

The demons had left the capital scarred—and while time had begun to heal those wounds, the memory still burned fresh behind his eyes.

He didn’t want to face another war of that scale.

Not yet.

But Kesseon Kingdom… they were already on the edge. Already too far gone to be talked down. Their movements made that clear.

Broken stood, his expression set. Determined. Resolved.

If this was going to happen, it would end swiftly. Controlled. Decisive.

He walked into the exit gate. And in a flash of light, Broken was gone—on his way to Slumdon Town.