From the perspective of Alessio Leone
The narrow streets of Eldenwall's slums stank of cheap coal smoke and rotting food scraps. Between crooked alleys and half-broken wooden windows, Alessio walked slowly, shield strapped to his arm, axe still stained red. Behind him, unsteady footsteps followed—the three girls. They were safe now, their scripted lines of gratitude echoing in his mind like background music stuck on repeat.
"Thank you, sir… thank you for saving us…" said one."We'll never forget your courage…" added another."We are in your debt, noble warrior…" insisted the third, in phrases any veteran player would instantly recognize as standard NPC lines.
Alessio didn't reply. He simply walked in silence, hearing the words as one hears wind against glass. His mind was elsewhere—on the fight he had just survived.
He had won. Not only through experience or skill.
His victory wasn't merely the product of ten years of game knowledge or his refined execution of a Tank's four basic skills. What tipped the scales, what defined every second of that battle against twenty level-10 enemies, had its roots outside the Tower.
Six months.
Six months of physical training that many would consider trivial—but for the Tower's cruel logic, they had been decisive.
During that time, while other students drank, wasted hours at parties, or slept in, Alessio ran miles every morning. Each stride shaped his muscles and endurance, preparing him not just for real-life fatigue but for the digital reflection the system would translate into numbers inside the Black Tower.
Endless sets of squats and jumps had earned him +2 points in Agility—imperceptible to anyone who didn't understand the game's hidden math. On the battlefield, that difference showed in micro-movements: the twist of his hips that deflected a dagger, the precision of his axe swings that cut clean, the split-second reaction that kept him a half-step ahead of his foes.
The iron lifted at the gym, the pull-ups, the sweat burning his arms had given him +1 Strength. Alone, it seemed little. But in the Tower, each point was worth years of grinding in advance. Every swing of his axe carried more weight, every clash of steel landed heavier. That margin was what turned steel-on-steel into a contest he could win.
A disciplined diet, regulated sleep, and attention to breathing during functional training had given him another +2 Vitality. Alessio's digital body endured poisons, cuts, and bruises that would have dropped any other level-1 player. Those extra points were what allowed him to stand in the middle of a dozen blades while Bastion's red glow multiplied his resilience fivefold.
Easy to underestimate. A novice, looking from the outside, would dismiss five stat points as nothing. But Alessio knew the truth: those five points made all the difference.
Numbers invisible to most had been the foundation of his victory.
So, when he recalled the battle, Alessio didn't think only of triggered abilities or spilled blood. He thought of dawn runs on an empty campus, of cold steel bars against calloused palms, of the metallic taste of strained breath. Every ache, every drop of sweat, every hardened muscle had been converted into stats.
That was what set him apart.That was what tipped the balance.
The math was clear: thanks to real effort, his starting stats weren't the same as in his past life. He had gained +2 Agility, +1 Strength, and +2 Vitality before the game even began. Small numbers to a novice. Monumental in battle.
Those five extra points were invisible to outsiders. But for Alessio, they had changed everything. They were what let him react in time to the Rats' coordinated attacks. They were what turned a fight designed to challenge level-30 players into a bloody victory for someone at level 1.
He didn't need forums or theories to prove it. He had felt it himself.
When they reached the same alley where it had all begun, the beggar was waiting. The ragged man embraced his daughters with restrained sobs. One by one, the girls bid Alessio farewell with their automated lines, then vanished into the shadows with their father.
Before disappearing into the alleys, the old man took Alessio's hand and placed something small and metallic in it.
An Extra Attribute Emblem.
The system didn't explain where it came from, nor offer any grand description. It simply notified him of the unique hidden quest's reward. Alessio stared at the item for a few seconds, feeling its symbolic weight more than its real one. He knew its value: a free stat point—something that could shape the entire future of a character.
He didn't hesitate.
"Agility," he murmured.
The emblem glowed, dissolving into his skin.
His Agility, once 6, now rose to 7.
An action that a novice—and even many experienced players in his past life—would have called madness.
After all…
Most would say a Tank should focus only on stacking Strength and Vitality. The early meta always favored unyielding walls of flesh and shields that wouldn't fall. A few more creative types suggested investing in Intelligence, boosting the range and effect of War Cry. But Agility? To most, that was wasted effort. Movement and evasion were seen as luxuries for someone whose role was to take hits.
Alessio laughed to himself. That mindset was exactly what separated the living from the dead.
Yes, Tank skills didn't scale directly with Agility. But that was precisely why it mattered. The difference between a slab of meat and a true fighter was in the details: the quick turn that intercepted a flank strike, the subtle adjustment that turned a killing blow into a miss, the millimetric precision of every axe swing.
So Alessio hadn't hesitated. He invested his hard-earned bonus point in Agility.
He could live with headaches from overusing skills. He could deal with the temporary weakness of low Intelligence. But giving up Agility? Never. That was the stat that would change his destiny in the Black Tower.
He drew a long breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds. The mental fatigue throbbed at his temples—a cruel reminder that stats weren't just numbers, but lived experience inside this world. The headache was the invisible equivalent of running out of mana. And if he pushed past the limit, he would collapse.
Even so, he couldn't stop. Not now.
Alessio remembered clearly: Eldenwall hid three unique hidden quests, all documented on the forums, yet none he had completed in his past life. There were also two side quests that granted extra stats, but since they weren't unique, they could be done anytime.
The priority was clear.
Complete the three unique quests in sequence. Secure every advantage. Make the first day a landmark.
That was his plan for the first day in the Black Tower. What he called his first perfect day.
With that thought burning in his mind, Alessio tightened the shield on his arm, wiped the blood from his axe, and set out toward the next mission.