Freya Van Daalen's Perspective
The first time Freya saw him, she didn't exactly get the best impression.He reminded her of most idiots who, once they laid eyes on her, simply couldn't look away.
To be fair… this idiot was a bit better-looking than most.But Freya had fallen for looks before.She knew exactly where that road led — and she had no intention of walking it again.
So, in the end, what truly caught her attention wasn't his face.It was his name.
Floating above his head, written in yellow, was the player's nickname: Aslan.A good name, she had to admit.It suited the lion-shaped helmet strapped to his back — it had the right presence.
But what really stood out wasn't that.It was what came next.
In bright blue letters, another phrase hovered beside it:"One of the First Pioneers."
Freya didn't need much to understand.That had to be what the system called a title.And even though it was the first time she'd seen one in person, she had no doubt about it.
Her mind connected the dots instantly.She remembered.
Aslan.It was one of the names announced in the global broadcast a few hours ago — the one that had sent every player into a frenzy.
That's when she realized:the man standing in front of her wasn't just another player.
And for a brief moment, she even felt the urge to test herself against him —to trade a few blows, measure strength, see how far this "Pioneer" could go.
But unfortunately…this simply wasn't the right time.
Her two little troublemakers were still inside the shop, almost tearing each other apart over a single herb.Not exactly the best moment to let her more aggressive, competitive side take over.
With no choice, she just dragged the two brats outside.They still had to get to school, and there was no time to waste.
So, no matter how much that player had sparked her curiosity, Freya shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
Or at least she tried to.
Because, unexpectedly, not long after dropping the kids off at the magic academy —an institution Freya silently praised every day as the most brilliant creation of the game's developers —
she saw him a second time.
She was about to leave the city, heading off to find the herb she'd promised the brats, when she was surrounded again —by idiots.The worst kind, too: the type who only understood no when it came with a well-placed kick to the face.
And just as she was about to do exactly that — to handle things her way and stain her new shoes with the blood from their noses —he appeared again.
The same man.Aslan.
Walking toward them in his heavy armor — the kind that made so much noise it could probably be heard ten blocks away.
From their faces alone, Freya knew the four weren't together.They belonged to two entirely different species of idiots, each with its own distinct stench of arrogance, and had simply crossed paths by chance.There was no other explanation.
At least, that's what her instincts told her.And for Freya, that was all the proof she needed — her instincts had been her personal judge for years, and their verdict was final.
But the proof came anyway.
Freya was already experienced enough in this game — even though it had only been live for three days — to know things could turn violent fast.
In fact, if it weren't for the magic academy's district — and the surrounding area — being heavily guarded, she never would've let her "little monsters" even touch this world before adulthood.
Still, she had to admit:her entire concept of violence was being rewritten before her eyes.
What she saw now wasn't a fight.It was a massacre.Bloody. Brutal. Direct.A massacre committed by one man.A man who, in that moment, could only be described as a beast in human form.
The three thugs attacked Aslan with a level of coordination that, under normal circumstances, Freya might have found decent.
Synchronized movements, weapons raised with acceptable timing, a clear intent to overpower an armored opponent.
But it was useless.
When one of their greatswords clashed against Aslan's axe, the result even surprised Freya.The one who suffered wasn't the lighter-armed fighter — it was the one wielding the massive blade.
The impact thundered through the alley.The shock not only broke the attacker's rhythm but nearly shattered his defense.If not for the other two rushing instinctively to support him, that man would've been eliminated on the spot.
Unfortunately for them, their decision to close ranks sealed their fate.
For a brief instant, the three stood too close together.And against Aslan, that was a fatal mistake.
He charged like a bull.His shield flared with the glow of an active skill — and the impact was devastating.
Freya could only describe it mentally as a cue ball smashing into pins.The three were sent flying backward, ragdolls struck by an invisible hammer.They slammed into the alley walls and crumpled to the ground in awkward heaps, dazed.
They never got back up.
Aslan's first axe strike fell with surgical precision.The sharp edge sliced across one man's throat, a crimson arc spraying through the air like a line painted in blood.
The second barely had time to raise his dagger.The axe spun mercilessly, and his head was severed in a motion too fast for untrained eyes to follow.The body toppled backward, limp and heavy.
The third tried to crawl away, trembling hands clawing at the cobblestones in a silent plea for life that would never be answered.
Aslan raised his shield — and brought it down with brutal force.
The blow crushed the man's skull in a grotesque burst of bone and blood, splattering across the ground like a dark stain that seemed to spread on its own.
Silence.A heavy silence filled the alley, broken only by the dripping of blood from the weapons still raised.
Freya watched.And though she'd seen violence in all its forms before, she had to admit — this had caught her attention.And by the sound of approaching footsteps, she wasn't the only one.
The man — the beast who, until now, had seemed more monster than human — grabbed her by the arm.
And for an instant, Freya's curiosity outweighed her sense of danger.
So she simply allowed him to drag her away from that place.