From Alessio Leone's Perspective
The streets still carried the damp silence of early morning as Alessio left the gym behind. His sneakers tapped the asphalt in a steady rhythm — not hurried, not slow, just firm. The shield and axe were left behind in the digital world, but his body still bore their invisible weight: shoulders rigid, arms tense, breath measured as though he were about to step into another fight.
His destination was simple: the gym.
Almost ironic. In another life, on this very day, he would have spent the hours ahead sleeping, maybe scrolling through a news feed, maybe watching some random stream. But now, every step was a verdict: there was no time to waste.
Matteo's call still echoed in his mind.
He didn't remember ever receiving it in his past life. Probably it had been lost among the countless missed calls, buried beneath a pile of notifications he never opened. Maybe he had been sleeping after his first gaming marathon, snoring among empty cans of energy drinks and forgotten reports. Maybe he had simply swiped the screen aside without caring.
But this time, Alessio had answered.
And that changed everything.
He knew his friend well. Matteo wasn't a gamer — had never been. His world revolved around gears, equations, prototypes, sketchboards filled with formulas. An engineer to the core. For him, games had always been a waste of time, cheap distraction, a drain of neurons better spent on algorithms or sensors.
And yet, the Black Tower had reached him.
That was the warning sign.
If even Matteo, resistant to any kind of game, was being pulled into that abyss, how many more would follow? Students, doctors, lawyers, laborers, entrepreneurs. Men and women who would never have bought a console or downloaded an MMO, now staring hungrily at the promise of a second life.
Two lives in one.Sleeping and playing at the same time.Losing nothing — only gaining.
A perfect trap.
Ten years in the future, Alessio knew, more than ninety percent of the global population would already be connected to the Tower. And the number was still growing, an almost absurd progression, as though humanity itself were being sucked into that digital labyrinth.
And with numbers came competition.
The game was vast, immense. Cities, continents, dungeons, secrets buried under layers of code. Even if the entire world entered, there would always be space for opportunity. That was the Tower's elegant half-truth: infinite abundance.
Yes, in theory, even after ten years newcomers were still stumbling across opportunities veterans had overlooked.
In practice, it wasn't so simple.
Alessio's memory wasn't perfect. Not every opportunity had gone public in his past life.
What's more…
Opportunities weren't evenly spread. Some were rare, hidden, unique. Others demanded quick decisions, choices made in the exact moment. And if Alessio wasn't the first to reach them, his memories were worthless. What good was recalling a unique quest if someone else completed it first? What use was remembering a legendary item if another player had already ripped it from the code?
His edge was ten years of scars.But scars didn't guarantee anything.
He couldn't allow his memories to lose their shine.
That was the sentence he repeated with every step toward the gym.
Alessio sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he walked. The morning air filled his lungs, clearing his mind. The distant hum of cars, the rustle of campus trees — all faded behind the one truth burning inside him:
— I can't miss a single opportunity.
The gym rose at the end of the street like a bastion of iron and sweat. Wide windows spilled out the metallic clang of bars hitting the floor, the grind of chains, the rhythmic breath of bodies in exertion. Alessio stepped inside without hesitation: he knew every detail here, from the drowsy receptionist at the counter to the bittersweet smell of chalk and disinfectant soaked into the air.
It was his personal cathedral.
Mornings belonged to the body — that was non-negotiable.
Running, iron, pain. All transformed into invisible points that would later turn into cold numbers inside the Black Tower. If he wanted to reach the higher floors, there was no room for negligence. Every fiber molded now was another line in the contract of survival.
But afternoons belonged to the mind.
If he was going to fight in the Tower, the better he understood humanity's history, the more prepared he would be. Alessio had already learned, in his past life, that each floor mirrored episodes, wars, inventions, tragedies from the real world. History wasn't pastime — it was ammunition. Dates, names, patterns of battle were disguised keys, hidden shortcuts in the Tower's climb.
And he was a declared disciple of such shortcuts.
In his previous life, it had been precisely those small details — a hidden route, a specific dialogue, an overlooked class choice — that gave him decisive advantages in the trials. The Tower rewarded those who read between the lines, who understood that the manual was never complete.
Yet now that the game had truly begun, Alessio knew it wouldn't be long before he needed to add another commitment to his routine.
Companions.
The one variable no amount of effort could replace.
It was impossible to conquer the Tower alone. That rule wasn't written in code, but in the essence of its design. Progressing through the floors required coordination, different specializations, synergies no single player could replicate.
But Alessio couldn't make the same mistake again.
In his past life, he had trusted the wrong people. Men and women who spoke of loyalty, who shared laughter in taverns and promises in forums, but at the decisive moment, sank blades into his back. A betrayal that cost more than items or progress: it cost trust itself.
This time would be different.
Matteo's call had reminded him of that.
His friend might not be a born gamer, but he was a genius. Alessio had to admit it. Matteo's logical, cold, almost obsessive mind was built to understand complex systems. If he adapted well to the Tower, if he embraced the challenge not just as a pastime but as a testing ground for his own equations, he could become an excellent companion for the climb.
Still… two wouldn't be enough.
Alessio sighed, adjusting the towel on his shoulder as he moved toward the free weights. His body readied itself for another iron session, but his mind was already working in parallel. He recalled faces, names, and events from his past life. Some players had shone so brightly they couldn't be ignored. Others, discreet, had proven to be keystones in the machinery of collective victory.
Yes, there were memories he could exploit. People he might recruit earlier this time, before they were swept into rival guilds.
But the truth was simple: it still wasn't enough.
He needed more. He needed to search, observe, scout new people. It wasn't enough to have skilled fighters.
In the Black Tower, there was another essential pillar: the support professions.
They didn't exist yet — not before the first class evolutions. But soon they would emerge. Blacksmiths, alchemists, scribes, spiritual healers, rune crafters. Each invisible trade propped up the climb as much as a sharp blade or an unbreakable shield.
In his past life, Alessio had relied on the small guild he was part of for those tasks. He had relied on the good faith of allies who had no loyalty.
This time, he wouldn't repeat the mistake.
He needed people far more qualified.And above all, trustworthy.
There was no other choice. He would have to scout.
And since his schedule inside the Tower was already packed with evolution plans and hidden quests, that search would have to be done offline, at least for now.