Perspective: Freya Van Daalen
Freya didn't fully understand what had just happened.
She had simply picked up two fine magical items from the stone table — a beautifully crafted grimoire and a necklace — and suddenly, the ground began to shake.
The glowing runes on the coffin at the center of the chamber started dimming one by one, like candles suffocated by the wind.
She didn't know what that meant… but one look at Alessio's face was enough to tell her one thing for certain:
She had done something really bad.
Something dark — maybe even terrible.
Her best guess — and that was as far as her imagination could stretch — was that somehow those two items were keeping something trapped inside the coffin.
And whatever was in there… was clearly not good.
Not good at all.
Even so, Aslan didn't shout, didn't blame her, didn't panic.
He simply observed.
His eyes swept across the entire room — from the cracked runes to the broken seals — and then landed on her again.
Freya immediately recognized that look.
He was about to say it was time to get the hell out of there.
And honestly, she wouldn't have argued for a second.
She had already gained far more than she'd imagined.
More gold, more experience, and items that would make any beginner player cry with envy.
If it were up to her, they'd head straight back to the city and spend the rest of the day celebrating at a tavern.
But before Aslan could say a single word, the impossible happened.
The passage behind him — a dark, silent crevice until then — lit up.
A cold light, tinged with green and gold, spread across the stone archway, crawling in glowing lines across the floor and illuminating the path ahead.
Freya blinked, confused.
The glow was intense, almost alive, and for a moment she had the strange feeling that the light itself was calling to them.
Everything changed in that instant.
The man in front of her, who a second earlier seemed ready to flee, now had his face lit by pure excitement.
Aslan's eyes shone brighter than when he'd found the epic shield — and to Freya, that said a lot.
It was as if he had just discovered a new treasure.
Something she couldn't yet see, but he understood perfectly.
The cold, calculating gaze she'd come to associate with Alessio's strategist persona was gone.
In its place burned a living fire — the kind she'd seen only in people at critical moments, when they realized they were standing before a rare opportunity — one that could define the course of their lives.
And that spark awakened her curiosity.
Freya had no idea how Aslan seemed to know so much about the game.
He spoke, acted, and reacted with the confidence of someone who had lived through all this before.
Her best guess was simple: he must have been a beta tester — one of the few who had access before launch.
But… that didn't add up either.
Ever since the game's announcement six months before release, she'd followed every chat, every forum, every broadcast about The Black Tower.
And not once had anyone mentioned the existence of beta testers.
No rumors. No leaks. Nothing.
Still, there was no other explanation.
Either Aslan had been a tester… or he knew things no one else in the world did.
She kept watching him.
Then his expression changed — to one she had seen before.
Words became unnecessary.
When his eyes met hers again, she already knew what he was going to say.
And when he said it, she simply chose to follow.
Maybe she'd lose the items she held — the ones she secretly intended to give to her two little troublemakers when they were older.
But they were still only ten.
And they wouldn't be running into forests or dangerous places anytime soon.
There was no rush.
Even if she lost what she had, Freya felt deep down that as long as she kept following that man, she would find things far more valuable.
So her decision was simple.
She took a deep breath, adjusted the new armor that still felt strange against her body, and stepped into the haunted corridor right behind him.
No regrets.
No hesitation.
Just like that.
If Aslan's eyes had already shone with excitement when the passage behind the coffin lit up, now — facing that colossal, macabre hall — they didn't just shine.
They burned.
It was as if a real flame had been ignited within him.
His expression was so vividly alive, so charged with restless energy, that Freya half expected him to start floating.
The man who, moments ago, spoke calmly and precisely about strategy and risk, now looked like a completely different person — consumed by an almost childlike enthusiasm.
The chamber ahead was immense, carved from gleaming black stone.
Twisted gargoyles clung to the walls, mouths open in grotesque smiles, as if watching every step they took.
The ceiling vanished into darkness, supported by columns thick as petrified trees.
At the center, the cold torchlight in Freya's hand danced across the marble, reflecting off metallic carvings, creating shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.
But nothing in that vast room was as mesmerizing as the gray portal.
It pulsed at the far end, suspended above a massive staircase.
Its surface rippled like water, but it was cold — colorless — gray, silvery, almost spectral.
It made no sound, yet Freya could feel a low hum in the air, a subtle vibration that made her bones tremble.
It was impossible to ignore Aslan's gaze.
The portal had completely captured him.
"Is that… something good?" she asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.
Aslan turned slowly, eyes still gleaming, and replied in a tone that mixed reverence with sheer excitement:
"Better than good, Sith." He smiled, almost laughing at himself. "That's absolutely sensational."
He drew in a long breath, eyes fixed once again on the portal.
The torchlight flickered across the dark metal of his armor, making him look larger — almost imposing.
"It's an opportunity we can't afford to miss," he said, conviction firm in his voice.
Freya didn't think twice.
His enthusiasm was contagious, and before she realized it, the words escaped her lips:
"Then let's go in."
But Aslan's expression shifted immediately.
The smile faded.
That wild gleam gave way to something heavier — concern, maybe even doubt.
He fell silent for a few seconds, as if wrestling with his own instinct.
Then finally spoke.
"The power we can gain by going forward is immense," he began, his tone firm, controlled. "But… at the same time, it's a double-edged sword."
He stepped closer to the portal, and the gray light wrapped around him, casting silvery reflections over his dark armor.
For a brief moment, Freya thought he looked like part of the dungeon itself.
"It's as if…" he continued carefully, "we'll have to pay for that power. A price we can't foresee now. And one day, if we're not careful, that same power might destroy us."
Freya frowned, confused.
"You mean… the game will punish us?" she asked, uncertain.
Aslan exhaled, as if trying to put complex thoughts into simple words.
"What I mean," he said, meeting her gaze, "is that if we step through there, we'll be taking a real risk.
A risk that doesn't end when we leave the dungeon.
Something that… follows us."
He paused.
His eyes returned to the portal's surface, and Freya could see the conflict waging inside him — fear and ambition, silent and equal in strength.
"If we cross it," he said softly, "we'll have to stay cautious — always. One mistake, and we could lose everything we've built."
Freya didn't fully understand what he meant.
His words sounded vague, almost cryptic.
But she didn't need to grasp them completely.
She understood his look.
And Aslan's eyes made it clear — he was going through that portal, no matter what lay beyond.
A smile crept onto her lips.
She recognized that look — the same one she saw in her children's eyes when they decided to do something dangerous "just out of curiosity."
Maybe it was recklessness, maybe courage.
But for Freya, quitting simply wasn't an option.
Her competitive spirit spoke louder.
If that man had the guts to face the unknown, then she sure as hell wasn't staying behind.
So she took a deep breath and said, with a confident smile and a spark of determination in her eyes:
"Profits naturally come with risks." She raised the torch, eyes fixed on the portal. "So why hesitate?"
Aslan laughed — short, genuine — the kind of laugh that breaks the tension before a storm.
"Then let's go," he replied.
And together, they walked.
Their footsteps echoed through the colossal hall, bouncing off the silent gargoyles and towering columns, until they reached the base of the staircase.
The air ahead was heavy, thick with energy.
Freya looked one last time at the portal — that pulsating gray shimmer that felt alive — and her heartbeat quickened.
They had no idea what waited on the other side.
But still, they stepped through.
Just like that.