Legendary Broken Player - VRMMORPG

News of the massive troop deployment from Valantar City near the border between Kesseon Kingdom and the Dissidia Kingdom had spread like wildfire. Footage from players, livestream broadcasts, and flying golem drones flooded every channel and forum.

The situation was trending across the world, and the reactions from players were instant—and ruthless:

“Yo, what is happening?! Valantar troops are literally at the border and Dissidia? Zero response. Are they asleep or what?”

“Rumor has it Broken’s not even in the capital right now. Just straight-up vanished. How does a guild leader disappear during a crisis like this?”

“This might actually be the fall of Slumdon. Their knight numbers are way too low compared to Kesseon’s army. Doesn’t matter how well-trained they are—it’s a numbers game.”

“If Dissidia doesn’t step in soon, Slumdon’s gonna be wiped out. Sad truth. No way they can hold that line alone.”

“Seriously though, why isn’t Dissidia mobilizing? What are they waiting for?”

“I still believe Broken has a plan. But if he doesn’t return soon, it’s just a countdown until Slumdon burns.”

“Already pulled out of Slumdon yesterday. Not worth defending if the kingdom itself can’t commit to it.”

The opinions were mixed—but one thing was clear:

All eyes were on Slumdon now.

And the question wasn’t if the city would be attacked…

It was when.

On the scorched stretch of desert marking the border between the two kingdoms, Broken stepped out of the shadows, his boots landing silently on the hardened earth. Beside him stood an archer with sharp blonde hair, eyes fixed on the shimmering horizon where nothing could yet be seen—only endless dunes.

“You’re back?” Maylock asked without turning.

Broken offered a faint smile and activated his interface, pulling up the live vision feed from Zepy—the flying golem currently circling high above the border. From that vantage point, the enemy’s formation was plain to see.

“They’re not holding back this time,” Broken murmured.

Maylock said nothing, eyes narrowing as he watched the footage Broken had shared, his jaw tight with calculation.

“You’re still set on not bringing in more royal troops?” Maylock asked quietly.

Broken turned to him, arching a brow in mock surprise. “That’s not like you, Maylock. Since when do you start second-guessing?”

Adjusting his glasses, Maylock replied, “It’s not that I’ve lost confidence… but they’ve brought more than I anticipated. A lot more.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario?” Broken asked. “That we lose?”

“No… victory is still possible,” Maylock said after a pause. “If—and only if—you bring in every available guild member from Vensalor Island.”

“Vensalor Island…” Broken repeated the words slowly. “First time I’ve heard someone call it that. Has a nice ring to it.”

He paused, then added, “Go on.”

“Their forces are too large to handle with players alone,” Maylock continued. “And sure, their casualties will be heavier than ours… but Constantine isn’t reckless. He’s prepared—especially with long-range units and aerial attacks. This isn’t a frontal brawl. It’ll be layered and messy.”

Broken nodded slightly. “So… we’ll need to bring in something stronger.”

Maylock didn’t respond immediately.

“If you don’t mind sacrificing half of Slumdon,” he finally said, “we can win this war. But ideally… we don’t lose anything. Not this time.”

“I understand.”

Broken turned his gaze toward the sky and raised a hand.

“Polly,” he called.

From beyond the stone walls of the border fortress, Polly—the winged fox—soared into view, her white wings glinting in the light.

With a fluid leap, Broken landed on her back.

“Let me pay them a visit,” he saide. “And have a little chat.”

Polly soared higher, her wings slicing through the wind as she glided toward the distant line of war camps.

Below them, the encampments of Valantar City sprawled across the desert like an infection—dozens of tents, siege equipment, and patrolling troops forming a disciplined, unmistakably prepared military presence. This wasn’t a bluff. It wasn’t a drill.

Though on the surface, they could always claim this was just a “training exercise,” everyone knew better. This wasn’t the first time they’d pulled this tactic—setting up near the border, pressing just hard enough to provoke, but staying technically within legal limits. A political move. A slow siege of nerves.

But this time… it was different.

This time, they were clearly trying to bait someone.

The very someone who had once torn through their forces in the dead of night—under a different face, under a different form. Broken, veiled in his demon form, had once dismantled them from the shadows. And they hadn’t forgotten.

They were hoping he’d strike again.

But now?

Now there were too many of them. Thousands of them. If he tried to engage alone, he’d be dead before he reached their backlines. It wouldn’t be a stealth operation this time. It would be a slaughter.

He considered his AoE skills. A single aerial assault, dropped from Polly’s height, could devastate entire units… but it would also look like a direct, unprovoked attack.

And that? That would start a war.

A real one.

As king, his position was fragile—perilous. If he struck first, it would be a declaration of war from the Dissidia Kingdom itself. And they would lose the moral ground. Kesseon and Valantar could spin it as Broken starting the conflict… not them.

They still had the advantage of alibi—claiming this was simply a city-to-city affair. Nothing more than border tensions. Not a full-scale act of war between kingdoms.

And the worst part?

They were absolutely willing to sacrifice anything—anyone—to bring Slumdon down.

As Polly glided closer, Broken could already feel the eyes on him. The camp was noticing. The players among the soldiers had begun pointing, whispering, some of them raising their devices.

Broken leapt gracefully from Polly’s back, landing with a soft thud just meters before the invisible line that marked the border between the two kingdoms. The dry wind whipped around his cloak as his boots touched the cracked earth—his presence sharp, unmistakable.

He stood still, eyes scanning the horizon.

The enemy camps stirred.

Soldiers began to emerge from their tents. Movement shifted into formation. Clearly, they hadn’t expected him to come alone… or perhaps, they had hoped for exactly that.

Now the question hung in the air—who would be bold enough to step forward and meet him?

The world didn’t wait long to react.

Player chats, public forums, livestream commentaries—everything lit up in real time.

“Wait—is that really Broken?! What the hell is he doing in Slumdon? I thought he was off the map for months.”

“Bro just landed right at the border like he owns the whole server. Is he seriously about to start a kingdom war alone?”

“We should go. If this turns into an event? It’s gonna be one of the biggest since the Demon Siege.”

“Broken is so reckless. Did he even talk to Queen Alora before doing this? If Dissidia burns after this, it’s his fault.”

“Man, this player’s ego is next level. Like, does he not realize how small his army is compared to what’s waiting over there?”

“Honestly? I wanna see what he’s planning. You don’t just show up like this without something up your sleeve.”

Tension hung heavy in the air.

No one knew what Broken would do next.

But everyone—friend, enemy, and observer alike—was watching.