Limitless Ascension:The System Chosen

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The sun was setting over Orario when Freya first saw him.

Disguised as Syr, the barmaid with a warm smile and gentle eyes, she stood outside the Hostess of Fertility, leaning casually against the wall as the last of the dinner crowd trickled in. She didn't know why she had stepped out at that particular moment. Some instinct had whispered to her—Now.

And then… she saw him.

A boy, perhaps seventeen, walking down the main road, a basket in his hand. Modestly dressed, calm, yet with eyes that held something she couldn't define. They brushed past each other—only a second, their shoulders nearly touching—and his gaze flicked to hers.

Freya froze.

In that single moment, she saw it. His soul. Vast. Strange. Untethered.

It shimmered like starlight on still water, deep and endless, unlike any soul she'd ever witnessed in this world. There was something foreign about it, like it had slipped into Orario from beyond the veil of reality itself. It wasn't power that caught her interest, not yet—it was potential. His soul… didn't belong to this world.

And then it was over. He passed her by with a polite nod, as if nothing had happened. Her heart, usually steady, fluttered.

What are you…?

A Celebration and a Failure

Weeks passed. She watched from afar. That strange boy—Ethan, Hestia's only child—was rising quickly. Rumors buzzed of his battle with a Minotaur on the middle floors. Whispers of an untrained level one besting something that would make a party tremble.

She had planned her next move.

Disguised once again as Syr, she waited inside the Hostess of Fertility. It was the night of his level-up celebration. Laughter filled the tavern. The boy entered, Hestia at his side, and Freya—Syr—moved casually across the room, timing it just right.

They bumped into each other by the bar.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said with her best innocent smile.

He turned, eyes surprised. "No problem," Ethan replied.

Then her eyes met his again, and this time she tried it—Charm.

Subtle. Almost unnoticeable. A spell woven into her voice, her gaze, her very breath. Most mortals, especially men, folded under its pressure like paper.

But Ethan didn't.

He blinked once, awkwardly looked away, and mumbled something before excusing himself.

Freya stood there, stunned.

No reaction? No blush? No stumble of words?

She caught her breath and looked across the tavern—Hestia was watching her.

Freya simply smiled.

Then she sat down, sipping quietly at her wine, letting the moment pass. But deep inside, something stirred. Curiosity became obsession.

Return to the Tower

Later that night, in the lofty chambers of Babel Tower, Freya shed her disguise.

No more Syr. No more games.

Moonlight poured into her chamber as she stared out over Orario. The Dungeon below stirred with the same kind of potential as the boy she now couldn't stop thinking about.

He was different. He resisted her power. Not because he was strong—no, not yet. But because his soul was unshackled. Free in a way that made even the divine feel... small.

Behind her, the heavy doors creaked open.

Footsteps. A massive presence entered.

"You called," a low voice rumbled.

She turned to face the man who stood like a wall of steel—Ottar, her most loyal and strongest warrior. A level 7 adventurer. The pinnacle of what mortals could achieve.

"I did," Freya said softly.

Ottar waited patiently.

"There's a boy in Orario," she continued. "Ethan. Hestia's child. I want to know everything. Where he came from. Who he speaks to. What he does in the Dungeon."

Ottar's brow furrowed slightly. "A level one?"

"Level two now," Freya corrected, smiling. "But it's not about his strength. It's his soul. Something… about him doesn't fit here."

"I'll see to it," Ottar said. He turned to leave.

"Wait," Freya said, almost in a whisper.

Ottar paused.

"If he fights you… don't kill him."

A rare moment—Ottar glanced over his shoulder. "You believe he could fight me?"

"No," Freya said with a sly smile, "but wouldn't it be a shame if he couldn't?"

A Promise in the Dark

When Ottar left, Freya moved to her balcony, eyes locking onto the night sky.

The stars above Orario twinkled with ageless indifference. She raised her hand as if to pluck one from the sky.

"He will rise," she whispered to herself. "And I'll be there to watch it… and guide it."

Then she lowered her hand, eyes glowing silver in the dark.

"We'll meet again, Ethan."

She smiled, not with mischief or malice—but with anticipation.

A soul like his only came once in an age.

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