The Weight a King Must Bear
It had been roughly a hundred years since the Kingdom of Critias was founded when destruction descended upon them without warning.
Dimension. The test of ■■■■ begins.
The ground cracked open. The sky split apart and monsters poured through. The merfolk could only stare blankly into the void, helpless before an onslaught they could not comprehend.
“We wish you all the best in your endeavors!”
Various beasts who called themselves helpers issued commands to every merfolk under the name of “missions,” ordering them to survive. The decree fell equally upon the ordinary citizens who had simply lived their lives in the kingdom and upon the king who had watched over them from the highest seat of power.
“Your Majesty! You must flee at once!”
Cheongrin, the blade of Critias, commander of the royal knights and the king’s closest advisor, sprinted straight to the royal office the moment the catastrophe began.
“H-how could this…”
But the king was already dead. His corpse lay cooling miserably in the corner of the office, neck snapped at an unnatural angle. The unfamiliar monster that had struck the fatal blow turned its gleaming eyes toward the new prey that had just burst into the room.
Shing.
Fueled by rage, Cheongrin drew his sword and clashed with the beast where it stood. Flesh was torn from his body and every bone shattered, yet he paid it no mind. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he could not spare a single thought for his own survival.
“Filthy monsters like you… daring to take our king…!”
His king had been a wise and benevolent ruler. Never once had he exploited his people for personal gain. Never once had he yielded or suffered defeat before any force that bared its teeth at the merfolk. A truly strong sovereign.
Yet such a king had met his end so emptily.
“Uwaaaaaah!”
In that desperate battle against the monster, Cheongrin became the first awakener of Critias.
TUTORIAL #1 CLEARED
Survivors are being restored.
He led the merfolk who still followed him. Together they exterminated the monsters and, honoring the late king’s wishes, fought tirelessly to reclaim peace.
Congratulations. You have survived.
Through Cheongrin’s ceaseless efforts, a seed of hope began to sprout in their hearts.
Yet that hope marked not the end of their destruction, but merely its beginning.
Enter the Tower’s domain.
Refusal will result in death.
The merfolk fell into chaos. Thousands upon thousands had already perished at the monsters’ hands. Families and friends had chosen to sacrifice themselves for one another. Yet the peace they believed they had reclaimed dissolved like foam the instant the System issued its new command. That single message shattered the merfolk into factions.
“Is this how we fall to our knees…?”
“What more are we supposed to do…?”
They despaired. Yet not a single one among them resigned themselves calmly to death.
“I want to live…”
“I don’t want to die…”
“Please, tell us…! Tell us how to struggle for survival…!”
They were begging for their lives. Whether those pleas were directed at the unknown entity or were desperate cries toward Cheongrin, who had led them until now, even they could not say.
“These shoulders…”
For the first time since the king’s death, Cheongrin fell to his knees.
“They are too heavy…”
If only the king were still here, what decision would he have made? Would things have turned out differently? Could more merfolk have survived? Might they even have found a way to resist the unknown being?
In hindsight, such thoughts were nothing more than an incomplete escape from a future that had already plunged into the abyss. The king’s absence was one burden Cheongrin found almost impossible to bear.
He longed to seek wisdom from the late king—his spiritual pillar, the wise ruler the merfolk had revered. Whenever complex dilemmas arose, it had always been his king who granted him insight.
“…If that is how it must be.”
He was an outstanding warrior, but no strategist. All his life he had served as advisor, never as the one who held final authority.
It was during that very moment of hesitation that a young merfolk caught Cheongrin’s eye. A child bearing a special golden pattern upon his head, the spitting image of his older brother—the young prince.
“Prince.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Cheongrin needed a king. He needed an existence with proper authority who could command the people and lead them forward. A guide who could show him the path and bring him to the right destination stood before him.
“From this moment onward, you are the king of Critias.”
No, he could serve as the navigator himself. He would be content simply to have a captain who would nod and say, “Let us head there,” while he illuminated the way from the helm.
From that day forward, Geumrin was crowned king by the merfolk. Centered around him, they resolved to climb the Tower.
“Waaaaah—!”
At first, everything proceeded smoothly. Cheongrin could finally set down some of the crushing expectations he had carried, and Geumrin, protected by those around him, was able to fulfill his role as the king’s descendant.
But Cheongrin’s hopes shattered the instant these words left Geumrin’s lips.
“…Please make the choice for us, Sir Cheongrin.”
Cheongrin was stunned. Was a king not supposed to accept his subjects’ counsel, render his own judgment, and guide the people?
“No. Issue your command. You are our king. We shall act according to your will.”
“…I do not wish to command anyone.”
It was then that Cheongrin realized the grave mistake he had made. What he had placed at the bow of their unstable vessel was not a captain to chart the course, but a mere figurehead praying for luck.
“His Majesty must make the decision before anyone can move.”
“I’m afraid.”
“That is the weight a king must bear!”
“It is too heavy.”
The young king was terrified. Terrified that the lives of countless merfolk rested in his hands. Terrified that those who perished because of his inadequacy would resent him. There was no reason the young Geumrin would not feel the exact same fear Cheongrin himself had felt.
“Even so… you must overcome it…”
Cheongrin’s mouth would no longer move. How could he ask a child to endure a pain that he himself had failed to overcome?
His mind grew coldly sober at the cruel reality he had realized far too late. He had dumped every last burden onto a child who knew nothing. Yet it was too late to take it back. According to merfolk custom, once crowned, a king could not relinquish the throne until the moment before death.
“It is still… still too early to say for certain…”
Therefore Cheongrin chose not to give up. Though the boy was still young and lacking, he carried the blood of the brother Cheongrin had respected more than any other. Surely the qualities of a true king lay hidden within him, waiting to be discovered.
And so the tutorial came to an end. With the sacrifice of countless merfolk they reached the first floor, and with the loss of still more lives they ascended to the second.
The theme of the second floor was individual growth. He found himself in a world ruled by humans, where he learned their spear arts and studied the magic of water. Through blood and sweat he raised his physical abilities to the limit of that floor, and just as the helper had promised, he grew strong enough that none on the third floor could possibly oppose him.
“At this rate, His Majesty must have grown as well.”
Harboring that expectation, he finally cleared the second floor. Upon entering the third floor of the Tower, he was greeted by his fellow merfolk, each of them stronger than before—just as he had hoped.
But…
Thud.
Utterly contrary to Cheongrin’s expectations, his king had shown no development whatsoever.
“Your Majesty.”
“…Yes?”
He spoke to the king who had collapsed after colliding with a player from another coordinate. Though the beginning had been forced, if the one bearing the title of merfolk king possessed even the slightest sense of responsibility, could he not at least demonstrate some of the effort he had made until now… please.
“…Please issue your command.”
Cheongrin ground his teeth.
“What command do you speak of?”
A king who did not grow. The worst mistake Cheongrin had committed since the destruction. In the end, he thrust his spear into the player who had collided with his king.
And at last he was forced to acknowledge the reality he had refused to accept.
To triumph in the coming competition, they would have to abandon their king.
After leaving the dark jungle behind, the first sight that greeted me was a golden desert so vast that the word itself felt inadequate. Yet what circled through my mind was neither the refreshingly open sand dunes nor the sun’s fierce rays beating down.
A sharp jolt ran through me.
‘This guy has no sense of responsibility?’
Every player on the third floor believed that Geumrin was someone precious to the merfolk. There was not a single person unaware of the commotion that had erupted when the Holy Kingdom’s paladin clashed with him.
Naturally, an incompetent leader becomes a group’s weakness. And once an enemy learns of that weakness, they will strain every resource to strike it.
‘It’s far more effective to attack the exposed vital point than to stab at armor that doesn’t even scratch.’
But here the logic breaks down.
From the story I had just heard, the boy had already been virtually abandoned by his own people. In other words, his existence could not possibly serve as the merfolk’s weakness on this floor.
‘Everyone believes it is a weakness even though it isn’t one.’
When the team battle begins, those who face the merfolk will be chasing an illusion. The merfolk will not protect their king. The enemy who wastes their strength on the wrong target will reveal fatal openings and be unable to stand against Cheongrin, who will have already finished his battle preparations.
The more I reflected on the tale I had heard, the more I found myself admiring the grand picture he had drawn. Even that awkward smile of his felt fresh and new.
Not one who is served by the people, but one who truly serves the people. The boy who had already resolved to sacrifice himself for his subjects already possessed more than enough of a king’s true qualities.