Perspective: Freya Van Daalen
Freya had to admit something.
The journey through the forest — which felt more like an endless labyrinth than an actual forest — had turned out nothing like she expected.
Alright… not just a little different.
Completely different.
The "slightly handsome guy" walking beside her didn't fit the mold of the usual idiots she was used to dealing with.
He didn't try to flirt constantly, didn't seek compliments, and didn't wear that annoying, self-satisfied look of someone who thought good looks alone could open every door.
In fact, he barely spoke at all.
He only opened his mouth when absolutely necessary.
Measured words. Always mission-related.
Nothing beyond that.
His eyes didn't wander over her body like most men's did either.
There was no hidden hunger, no invasive curiosity. His amber eyes — eyes that, to Freya, resembled those of a true lion — only turned toward her at precise moments.
And when they did… it was strange.
Not bad strange.
Strange because it felt like he was reading her mind.
Whenever she thought about taking an action — following a more open path, advancing with her blade drawn, or waiting silently for the beast ahead to move — those eyes would fall on her.
Steady. Calculating. Confirming.
And almost every time, her decision was silently approved.
The synchronization between them was so immediate, so sharp, that it was almost eerie.
Still, it left her uneasy.
She remembered perfectly well how he'd stared at her back in the herb shop — with that same obsessive look typical of normal idiots, the kind who just couldn't see a woman and leave her alone.
But now, he was acting completely different.
And that contrast alone was enough to make her mind restless.
The forest itself didn't help.
It seemed to work against her nerves, amplifying her unease.
The silence — broken only by the muffled crunch of leaves underfoot and the faint clinking of his armor — made the atmosphere almost suffocating.
It was as if the trees themselves were watching them, massive and identical, forming a living maze.
Time passed slowly but relentlessly. Nearly an hour went by like that — firm steps, steady breathing, glances that replaced entire conversations, and her mind spiraling inside her skull.
Then she realized something. Something uncomfortable. Something rare for Freya, who usually thought things through before acting.
After all, as a mother, she couldn't afford to lose her composure like she did as a teenager.
But the truth was simple.
She was lost.
Completely lost.
If he decided to abandon her right there, she'd have no idea how to get back to the city — much less to her two little troublemakers. Finding her way alone in that living labyrinth would be impossible.
The forest swallowed directions, erased trails, destroyed all sense of orientation.
Everything looked the same — terrifyingly the same.
Fortunately, he didn't seem like the kind of man who'd do something like that.
And somehow, the metallic sound of his armor offered a strange kind of comfort.
Even if they were separated, Freya had the feeling she could find him again just by following that heavy, rhythmic clanking — even from miles away.
Unlike her, however, he moved like someone who knew every tree, every stone, every hidden turn in the darkness.
He didn't hesitate once.
Each decision — each path — seemed natural, automatic, as if he'd walked this route dozens of times.
Which was… impossible, given how new this game was.
So…
For a moment, Freya wondered if he was just pretending — one of those cheap tricks men used to impress women.
Luckily…
That theory shattered in the next instant.
Because when the dense vegetation finally opened up, and the massive shadow appeared before them, all doubts vanished.
An enormous skull, grotesquely large, jutted out of the ground.
Its twisted horns rose like deformed pillars, coated in moss and decades of decay.
The cranium, half-buried, seemed to stare back at them through the hollow void of its eye sockets.
That's when he stopped.
His amber eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice — low, careful, almost a whisper that barely broke through the heavy air — confirmed the inevitable.
"We're here."
The truth was, Freya didn't even know what to expect from this so-called adventure.
Actually, calling it an adventure was generous.
Madness was a better word.
She was in a forest she didn't know, beside a man she didn't know, searching for items she'd never even heard of.
She had no idea when — or even if — she'd make it back to the city in time to see her little monsters again.
Definitely not the most responsible decision she'd ever made.
And yet… the temptation was far too strong to ignore.
Freya wasn't a complete newbie when it came to games.
Sure, her busy life — filled with responsibilities and problems — didn't leave much time for a hobby as unproductive as online gaming.
At least, not until the release of The Black Tower.
But she knew the basics.
Enough to understand that, in this kind of game, powerful items could mean the difference between victory and defeat — between survival and being crushed.
And that was exactly what made this quest so addictive.
In The Black Tower, everyone talked about magical items.
Rumors, theories, heated forum debates — players swore up and down that relics capable of changing the course of entire battles existed.
Even the game's structure seemed to support that idea.
But in practice?
Freya hadn't so much as sniffed a magical item.
Not a spark. Not a glimmer.
Nothing.
And that frustrated her more than she wanted to admit.
So when someone — even if he did look like an idiot at first — offered her a real lead, backed by strange confidence and a track record that hinted he wasn't bluffing…
There was no way she could just walk away.
Ignoring that opportunity would've been even crazier than following him into this place.
Sure, she could call it madness.
She could blame herself for diving headfirst into a living labyrinth, guided only by the metallic rhythm of his armor.
But deep down, she knew the truth:
As long as she managed to get her hands on a real magical item…
She'd be satisfied.
More than satisfied.