Perspective: Alessio Leone
Alessio stood still for nearly two full minutes before the ancient skull.
The colossal structure, adorned with massive horns that curved like twisted pillars, dominated the clearing.
The Great Horn of the Gloomshade Forest.
He examined it from every possible angle — scanning the cracks, the moss that draped down like veils, the crevices carved by time and nature alike.
Nothing looked obvious. Nothing gave away the answer he was hoping to find.
And that was exactly the problem.
As much as he hated to admit it, the truth was simple: he had no idea what to do next.
The forum from his previous life had only ever mentioned the legend of the lost armies and the name of the forest.
The old lunatic, on the other hand, had left him a single, vague clue — the Great Horn.
And now here he was, standing right in front of it, with no clear script to follow.
All that remained was to search carefully — to examine every detail, every stone, every inch of soil around it.
To look for something that didn't quite belong.
Unfortunately — or at least for his pride — Alessio quickly realized his new traveling companion was far more perceptive than he wanted to admit.
"Your intel only went this far, right?" Sith asked.
She wasn't looking at him with judgment.
There was no sarcasm or reproach in her tone.
Even so, Alessio felt the weight hidden behind the question.
But as a man with a law degree, he couldn't let a comment like that go unanswered.
"Yes," he said firmly, holding her gaze. "Somewhere around this skull, there has to be something tied to the disappearance of the armies."
Sith moved closer to the massive structure, eyes scanning every detail, fingertips brushing lightly over the moss that covered the bones.
"This isn't going to be easy. Mapping the area will take some—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
The silence that followed was unsettling.
Alessio waited a few seconds, expecting her to continue.
But nothing came.
Her expression had gone still — focused, as if she were listening to something he couldn't hear.
"The area…?" he prompted, trying to pull the thread she'd dropped.
All he got in return was her gesture.
Sith pressed a finger to her lips — a silent command for absolute quiet.
He obeyed immediately.
Ever since they met, he'd learned one thing: that woman's senses bordered on supernatural.
She moved slowly, circling the skull's edge.
Every step deliberate, every motion patient — like a hunter stalking her prey.
Then, without warning, she crouched and brushed aside the layer of dead leaves inside the skull with her foot.
The dry rustle of shifting leaves revealed something beneath.
The ground.
Sith didn't stop.
A sharp kick against the floor confirmed her suspicion.
Alessio understood instantly.
There it was.
A door.
Not made of stone, as he might have expected, but thick, aged wood — hidden beneath layers of fallen leaves scattered by the wind.
It was nearly impossible to spot unless you noticed one crucial detail: the faint hiss of air escaping through the narrow cracks.
He blinked, surprised.
He couldn't fathom how she'd picked up on something so subtle, so quiet.
Then Sith turned to him.
And for the first time since entering the forest, she smiled — light, almost amused.
"Mother's ears never fail," she said.
Alessio was speechless for a moment.
He'd heard people say mothers had sharp hearing for certain sounds, but in his opinion, Sith's senses went far beyond anything logical.
And once again, he was certain he'd made the right decision dragging her along on this quest.
The wooden door wasn't large.
Alessio knew at first glance he'd have to squeeze through to get inside.
Still, when he pulled on it, he discovered the real problem wasn't space — it was weight.
The wood was thick, ancient, and heavy with years of moisture.
Even with his strength, which had already crossed into double digits — barely, but still — lifting that door required real effort.
And that said a lot, considering most players didn't reach that range until levels fifteen or twenty.
The noise was inevitable.
A long, sharp screech that tore through the forest's silence like a rusted scream — the kind of sound only an abandoned door could make after years of neglect.
And when it finally gave way, what lay beyond made Alessio catch his breath.
A staircase.
Not a short or crude one, but a deep descent — so deep that even daylight failed to reach the bottom.
A staircase plunging into dense, unbroken darkness.
He turned, already preparing to tell Sith they'd need torches before going down.
But once again, she surprised him.
There she was — holding three wooden rods wrapped neatly in cloth, already prepared as torch handles.
Alessio had no idea where she'd gotten them so quickly, or when she'd found time to prepare.
She looked at him with the same calm composure as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He took a deep breath, grabbed one of the torches, lit it, and watched the flame rise — scattering part of the darkness ahead.
The orange glow reflected off the uneven surfaces of the ancient skull, flickering across the moss like a living presence.
He turned to Sith, who mirrored his actions, lighting her own torch.
"Ready?" he asked, voice low and steady.
"Yes," she replied with a small nod — then added casually, "I already asked my sister to pick up my little troublemakers from school."
Alessio nodded.
"That's good."
And he truly meant it.
Because as much as he had an idea of what they might find inside, none of it was pleasant.
The weight of it pressed against every muscle in his body — his mind already bracing for another desperate fight for survival.
He could only hope the remaining eleven hours would be enough.
Get in.
Take what he came for.
Don't die.
Return to Durnholde City before being forced to log out.
If luck was on his side, that would be enough.
And so, Alessio began his descent — preparing for his second battle far from the sun.