RG 150

The King was born to rule.

On the day the King was born, the heavens rejoiced and poured down snow, and the earth bowed its head reverently beneath a veil. The curtains shook violently in the wind that came to celebrate the King’s birth.

One Who Walks Above Snow and Painting.

“Painting” was a noble word reserved only for the one destined to inherit the throne. The King, fated to walk upon it, was born with strength as great as the arrogance of her title.

When she truly became king, the entire nation praised her and gladly knelt before her. The people firmly believed that the newly crowned King would usher in an era of peace and prosperity. Thus, neither the newly enthroned King, nor the people, nor even the magician who had foretold the King’s birth could have imagined that “it” would appear and shake everything to its core.

“It” appeared without warning. A massive, gaping hole opened in the sky. The dark blue hole, greedy enough to swallow any living being, radiated an eerie aura that was terrifying even to behold. Even when the ministers and magicians put their heads together, they could not find a solution. In the end, fearing countless casualties if they hesitated any longer, the King had no choice but to act.

“We cannot simply sit idle just because we don’t know how to eliminate it.” Something had to be done. The resolute King spoke. “I will go and deal with it myself.”

“It is far too dangerous!” A knight who had shared a deep friendship with the King since childhood cried out earnestly. “Your Majesty does not need to risk yourself. Let me go instead. Please, give the order!”

“I cannot allow that.”

Before anyone realized it, a long sword had appeared in the King’s hand. The sword, flowing with a vivid blue aura, was the only weapon forged from the her own power.

“But still…!”

“The expensive clothes I wore, the finest food I ate, the best education I received.” With a metallic clink, the armored King turned away, her bright blue cape billowing wide. “Were they not all privileges granted for this very moment?”

“That cannot be. You are a precious existence.”

“Because I was precious, I was raised to this position and enjoyed many things.” The King, her long white hair flying behind her, smiled faintly. “Thus, I must take responsibility for what I have been given. And that time is now.”

The throne of a ruler was, by nature, a place of responsibility. When disaster opened its jaws overhead, a true ruler could not hide and push the burden onto her ministers and people.

The King set out alone toward the mountain where “it” hovered. Wherever she passed, the people laid cloth across the ground, their faces a blend of despair and hope. The cloth varied from fine silk to coarse cotton, but the colors were only two: pure white like the King’s hair, and a cool silver-blue like her eyes, filling the streets as far as one could see.

Leaving behind that dazzling sight, the King climbed the mountain. The cold winds brushing against her skin, the countless falling snowflakes—none of it was unfamiliar to her. After all, the King was a being born during the Season of Water’s Peak.

At the mountain summit, she looked up.

The gaping hole, too vast to take in all at once, was devouring the falling snow and howling winds.

The King tightened her grip on the sword hilt. Swallowing dryly, she braced her thighs and leapt high into the air.

Whoooosh!

As she shot toward “it,” massive shards of ice formed around the King. These stepping stones of ice helped her climb even higher. Leaping again and again, punching through the clouds, she raised the tip of her sword. On the brilliant blue blade of ice, a razor-sharp aura formed.

The sword energy—wielded only by those who had transcended their limits—flowed along the blade. With the aura enveloping the sword, now several times larger than before, the King burst through the shards and swung her arm.

A single strike.

The sword energy sliced clean through the center of the vast “it.”

Rumble, rumble! The hole, cleaved by the sword energy, shuddered violently, and a deafening roar echoed through the heavens and earth. The dark blue hole cracked and split apart like a shattered windowpane.

“Is it working?”

Creak, craaack!

As if responding to the King’s hopes, “it” began to collapse, letting out strange, unidentifiable sounds. The cracks that had formed around it widened and deepened like a spiderweb.

Just as she felt relieved, believing the attack was having an effect—

Suddenly, “it” expanded explosively, swelling to an enormous size. Crack, crack, crack, crack! 

The King, staring straight at it, saw her entire field of vision swallowed by darkness in an instant.

***

When the King opened her eyes, everything around her had completely changed.

Instead of a snow-covered mountain, her sight was filled with endless green. With a dazed expression, she sat up and looked toward the sky where “it” had once floated. A bird swiftly cut across the wide-open sky. There was no trace left of “it.”

“Did I… succeed?”

Clinging to a thread of hope, the staggering King got up and began descending the mountain.

The changed landscape, the clear blue sky with no falling snow—it all seemed strange, but she didn’t worry too much. Likely, some small mishap had occurred during the process of eliminating “it.” Covering the mountain with snow again was something she could easily manage with her power.

More importantly, she needed to descend quickly—surely everyone was waiting for her return.

Carrying a mix of anticipation, joy, and an inexplicable unease in her chest, the King reached the foot of the mountain.

And froze.

“Wh-who is that?”

“Is she a Hunter?”

“Her aura’s different. She’s a monster! A monster!”

“R-run away!”

Unfamiliar faces. An incomprehensible language. Beings who looked at the King with fear and fled. Amid the screams, she stood blankly, thinking: something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

“Where on earth… is this place?”

In the midst of the chaos, the King realized—right before losing consciousness, she had been sucked into “it.” And with that realization came overwhelming despair.

“Could it be… this is another world…?”

It was hard to believe. Struggling to steady her shaking mind, the King began moving to grasp the situation.

The first week was spent learning the language.

The next month, learning the culture.

By the sixth month, she understood the differences between this world and her own.

And by the end of a year, she had wandered aimlessly, finally accepting reality.

Only after a full year had passed did the King acknowledge it: she had fallen into a foreign land through “it.” Not just another country—but an entirely different world.

Returning to the mountain where she had first awakened, the King wept deeply, her grief and loneliness surging uncontrollably as she unleashed her powers at random. The eruption of power turned the land into hell for more than five years. The mountain was engulfed in intense cold and buried in snow, erasing all traces of its former self.

After five years, drained of even the energy to continue rampaging, she wandered the mountain with a vacant, soulless face. By now, she should have died from expending so much power. But the King, being too strong, could not die.

Longing endlessly for her homeland, grieving, and grieving again… she holed up in the mountain.

And so, two years passed.

“You are…”

A pale green light, long gone from this mountain, shimmered once more. A young man with the same silver hair as the King opened his eyes wide in surprise.

“Could it be… you’re the source of the energy detected here…?”

The King, who had encountered another living being for the first time in seven years, faltered briefly but then turned away, ignoring the young man. From behind her, the man’s voice rang out.

“Please, wait! Just a moment to talk…!”

His cry was soon swallowed by the blizzard.

No living creature should be able to climb this high through the intense cold. Or so the King thought. Yet somehow, that man had made it up here. She was curious but quickly shook her head and dismissed the thought. He was just another human she would never meet twice. Either he would die wandering the mountain or be forced to descend, unable to withstand the cold.

That assumption shattered the very next day.

“Um, hello.”

The young man, standing at a distance without daring to come closer, shyly greeted her again. Seeing that he wasn’t shocked by her presence suggested he had come here deliberately, seeking her out.

His odd behavior continued after that.

Wherever the King went, the young man appeared, and though he never approached closely, he always greeted her.

“Hello.”

A neat and polite greeting. Though the King ignored his voice every time, after more than a month of these encounters, she found herself feeling something she hadn’t in a long time—a sense of disbelief.

Unable to hold back any longer, she asked, “Why aren’t you leaving the mountain?”

The young man, eyes wide like a startled rabbit, stammered his answer, “Well, um, I’ve Awakened.”

“…”

“But unlike others, I can’t control it… and it’s dangerous, so…”

Though he blurted out his words in panic, it wasn’t difficult for the King to understand. She recalled her travels across the world. It wasn’t rare for those who failed to learn how to control their powers to harm even their own kin. Sometimes, the attacked ones even died.

Newly Awakened individuals appeared every day, but the speed at which different nations built systems to protect and train them varied wildly. This young man had likely judged he couldn’t expect help from his country—and fled into the mountains.

“This mountain has long been consumed by my energy. No matter how strong you are, you won’t survive the cold. If you don’t want to die, go down.”

“If it’s because of the cold… I’ll be fine.”

The young man extended his hand, and above it, a small, pure white crystal formed. A shard of ice, pristine and shining.

At the sight, the King felt a long-forgotten sensation: the pure, clean energy of winter. A force similar to what her homeland’s people had once possessed. Her heart ached, tightening painfully.

Gazing at the shard of ice the young man had created, the King asked with trembling lips, “…What is your name?”

“I’m Song Ji-un.”