Legendary Broken Player - VRMMORPG

“How the…?”

Broken stared, frozen mid-air, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and outrage. His eyes locked on Cecilia—very real, very present Cecilia—floating behind the shimmering barrier of the island.

His mind raced.

This was supposed to be the Moonlight Dimension, a private, pocket world—separated from the real map of Yunatea. That’s how the game always treated it. A fragmented personal realm. A sanctuary.

But now?

Now it was floating here. In the main world. Above the sea. In plain sight.

“Is this… a system bug?” he thought sharply.

Could it be some hidden exploit—some lazy shortcut in the game’s design? A forgotten dev structure just dumped out here in the middle of nowhere where no one would find it?

No.

No fucking way.

This game had been out for four years. Four years of scrutiny from millions of players, and not one confirmed bug of this scale had ever made it past the forums. Every report was debunked, every glitch a misunderstanding. The system was airtight.

And what he was looking at now?

This wasn’t a bug.

This was real.

A terrifying clarity crept into him. The island—his island—was never separate. It existed here, hidden in plain sight, or maybe… overlapping? Anchored to this world in ways he never understood.

And then Cecilia tilted her head at him, confused.

“Master… Why are you outside the barrier? Come in, Master.” Her voice was gentle, sweet, completely unaware of the existential chaos unraveling inside him.

Broken nodded, slowly, numbly.

He reached up, touched the Moonlight Pendant around his neck—and in a flash of light, his body shimmered and shifted. The next second, he was inside.

Feet planted firmly on the ground.

Inside the island. Near the edge of the familiar lake.

He turned—and there she was. Cecilia, floating beside him now, her glow soft as ever.

Still stunned, he managed to ask, “Cecilia… did you just see me? Outside the barrier?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Yes, Master. I saw you clearly.”

Broken ran a hand through his hair, his breath shaky.

He wanted to scream. Laugh. Cry. Swear at the sky.

After months of sailing, being pulled into the depths of political chaos, surviving a Named Demon… The floating island he was searching for had been his own all along.

Like hell…

Broken stood in silence for a long moment, his eyes still locked on the faint shimmer of the protective barrier that surrounded the island. The wind felt heavier here, or maybe it was the weight of realization pressing down on him.

He slowly turned to Cecilia, who hovered nearby.

“Cecilia…” he said. “Tell me everything you know. You must understand how messed up this is, right? My ship… it’s out there, in the sea. And I found this island floating in the middle of it. I thought this place was a separate dimension. But now? It’s in the middle of Yunatea. Do you know anything more?”

Cecilia didn’t answer right away. She seemed to let him speak his thoughts aloud, as if waiting for his mind to align before giving hers.

Then, gently, she said, “Master… this only started happening recently.”

“Recently?” Broken’s eyes narrowed.

She nodded. “Yes. Before, I couldn’t see the ocean. The space below was distant… like an endless void. But then, slowly… the island seemed to descend. And now… I can clearly see the sea around it.”

Broken stepped back slightly, frowning. “Since when?”

Cecilia looked toward the lake, her eyes thoughtful. “Since the tree. The one we planted at the center of the lake.”

He froze again. “The tree…?”

She nodded. “Yes. After it took root… something changed.”

Broken fell silent.

He processed her words slowly. It wasn’t just a magical tree—it had shifted something in the nature of this space.

“The real question is…” he muttered, mostly to himself, “Was this island always part of Yunatea… or did the tree pull it into Yunatea?”

Cecilia lowered her gaze for a moment, then softly replied, “Master… I’m sorry. That’s beyond my knowledge.”

Broken gave a slow nod. “It’s alright. I get it.”

Still stunned, he walked over to the edge of the lake. There, he sat down on a large stone—one he’d used many times before without a second thought. But now… it felt different.

The world he thought he understood had shifted. Again.

He stared out at the lake’s surface, the gentle ripples catching fragments of light… and tried to make sense of the chaos.

Broken sat there, lost in thought, the cool lake breeze brushing against his skin as the weight of realization continued to settle in.

If that tree really was a World Tree… Then this island—it wasn’t just some mystical sanctuary. Could it actually be the floating island of the Vensalor Kingdom?

It would make sense… terrifying sense.

He clenched his fists slowly.

“Vensalor…”

That was the name of his guild.

He had chosen it without thinking much, drawn to it because of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a kid—stories filled with light, peace, and a hidden kingdom among the skies. The name had always stuck with him like a distant dream. A myth. Something comforting.

And now?

Now this dream was manifesting right in front of him, as if the world was folding around his own memories.

If he were to build a kingdom, if he were to claim a name for it—he would have chosen Vensalor Kingdom.

Was this fate?

Or was it something more disturbing—his own subconscious dragging the past into reality?

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath. “Am I just stuck inside my own head?”

Or maybe… the tree really was the World Tree, and because it was planted in an environment so similar to the original floating island of the forest elves, it pulled this island into reality, merging the fragments of dimension and memory into something real.

But if that were true… Then how powerful is this tree, truly?

He’d seen the effects already—Alora had gained ten levels just by being near it. That wasn’t just rare. That was unheard of.

Yet, despite all of that… he’d searched the island thoroughly. And there were no signs of an ancient civilization. No ruins, no engraved stones, no abandoned settlements. Nothing that suggested this was once the home of the forest elves of Vensalor.

Only one structure stood tall, the Tower of Trials. And nothing else.

Even Tirien, the merfolk warrior, had said it himself—this island was smaller than the legendary Vensalor floating island.

Which meant… this couldn’t be the same place. It couldn’t.

This had to be a different island, a new formation, maybe even a creation influenced, or summoned into existence, by the World Tree’s power.

Damn it. He couldn’t figure it out. Not alone.

Frustrated and overwhelmed, he opened his message interface and quickly sent word to SexyGrill and SexyBloom.

[SexyGrill]: “What?!!! HOW!? HOW?!”

[SexyBloom]: “Oh… I’m getting chills just reading this… how is this happening? It’s too perfect to be a coincidence.”

[Broken]: “Bloom, Grill… just fly in. Get close enough to see it for yourselves.”

After a few minutes passed, Broken looked up and saw them—SexyGrill and SexyBloom—hovering outside the shimmering protective barrier.

He exhaled in relief.

Then he turned to Cecilia, who was floating nearby.

“Cecilia,” he said gently. “Can you open the barrier? Let them in?”

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