Power has a weight.
And when carried too long, it turns cold.
Shino Taketsu had won battles no one else could fight. He had silenced enemies without raising a blade. He had taught himself what no mentor could teach. His strength, once doubted, had now become unquestioned.
And yet, the stronger he grew, the farther away he drifted from everyone else.
---
The Crown of Solitude
At dawn, soldiers trained in the yard, their blades clashing like drums. At night, councilors whispered schemes into shadows. Merchants bargained. Villagers prayed. Life pulsed with noise.
But Shino stood apart.
People looked at him with awe, but no one stepped close. When he walked through crowded streets, the sea of bodies parted like water fleeing a stone. Respect had turned into distance. Admiration had become fear.
He was surrounded by people, yet utterly alone.
It was then he realized—he was sitting on a throne no one else could touch. A throne built not of gold, but of ice.
---
The Cold of Command
The Ice Throne was not a place. It was a state.
Every decision he made froze another piece of him. When he sent soldiers into danger, he swallowed their deaths in silence. When he denied supplies to villages, he carried the hunger of children as his burden. When he outplayed the council, he gained victory but lost closeness.
Strength had elevated him, but it had also encased him.
He could no longer share his fears—who would understand them?
He could no longer show his doubts—who would forgive them?
He could no longer speak as a man—because the world had made him more than man.
And so he sat upon his invisible throne, colder with each passing day.
---
A Meeting of Distance
One evening, during council, the younger commander Ren tried to speak to him as a friend. "You carry so much, Taketsu. Surely even you grow weary. Allow me to share some of your burden."
The words were kind. The eyes were sincere.
But Shino saw what Ren did not: that sharing the burden meant exposing weakness. If he leaned, even slightly, the throne of ice would crack.
"Burden is not to be shared," Shino replied. His voice was steady, but cold enough to silence the room.
Ren bowed his head, shame in his eyes. The council continued its work. But Shino felt the walls of isolation grow higher.
Even those who wished to help could no longer reach him.
---
The Loneliness of Height
That night, he stood atop the citadel tower, watching torches flicker in the city below. Thousands of lives depended on him. They lived, breathed, laughed, and prayed because he kept the darkness away.
Yet not one of them could stand beside him.
He thought of the boy who once dreamed of a teacher's hand on his shoulder. He thought of the young fighter who once longed for companions at his side.
That boy was gone.
That dream was frozen.
What remained was Shino Taketsu—the man on the Ice Throne.
---
Dialogues With the Cold
The wind howled around him, biting his skin. But he welcomed it. The cold was honest. It did not flatter him, did not scheme against him, did not beg for his decisions.
It was in that freezing silence he admitted to himself:
The higher I climb, the colder it becomes.
His highest strength—the ability to bear what no one else could bear—was also his curse. The stronger he became, the more the world stepped back.
It was as if the Ice Throne had chosen him. And like all thrones, it demanded a price: his humanity.
---
A Glimpse of the Cost
Days later, a soldier approached him after training. The man had sweat on his brow, eyes wide with respect. "Master Taketsu," he said, "we would follow you anywhere. You are like a god among men."
Shino's chest tightened. The soldier meant it as praise. But to be called god meant to be denied humanity.
He forced a nod and dismissed the soldier. But as the man left, Shino whispered to the empty air:
"I am no god. I am a man. A man frozen on a throne."
The words disappeared into silence. No one heard them. No one ever would.
---
Acceptance
One night, as the moon rose silver over the city, Shino sat alone in his chamber. No laughter, no voices, no warmth. Only the echo of his own breath.
He realized something then—he could not fight the Ice Throne. He could not melt it. To sit upon it was both punishment and destiny.
So he embraced it.
If isolation was the cost of his strength, then he would pay it.
If loneliness was the crown, then he would wear it.
For the world did not need a companion. The world needed a guardian.
And Shino Taketsu—cold, untouchable, and alone—would be that guardian.
---
The Throne Becomes Legend
From that day forward, no one dared to speak casually with him. No one dared to question his presence. He was there, silent and commanding, like ice carved into human form.
They feared him.
They respected him.
They whispered his name not as a leader, but as a legend.
The boy who once searched for teachers was gone.
The man who once longed for allies was gone.
All that remained was the ruler of silence—seated upon an invisible throne of ice.
And though the throne froze his heart, it also gave him clarity:
> To protect the world, he must first lose it.
To rise above all men, he must no longer be one.
Thus, his highest strength came with deepest isolation.
And so Shino Taketsu reigned—on the Ice Throne.