From Alessio Leone's perspective
The sound of beasts still writhing in agony echoed from the bottom of the trap as Alessio raised his shield and stepped forward. Three players stood out at the edge of the clearing: a warrior wielding a longsword with a dagger at his belt, an archer draped in a flashy golden cloak, and a mage in crimson robes.
Classic. The most common rookie trio.
Alessio almost laughed to himself. He knew exactly what to expect.
The warrior charged first, sword raised, aiming to clash with the Tank head-on. The archer backed up a few meters, already drawing his bow. The mage let his staff glow with red runes—probably preparing to launch a fireball.
To Alessio, the scene was almost too predictable.Three rookies against him. Standard strategy. Naïve.
He didn't wait.
Planting his weight firmly on his legs, Alessio let the agility he'd honed through missions and real-life training finally show its worth in PvP. He shot forward like a predator from its den. His shield flared red—[Shield Impact].
The warrior's eyes widened at the unexpected speed. Tanks weren't supposed to move like that. Still, Alessio noticed something: maybe this wasn't the first time the warrior had faced a Tank. Instead of stubbornly taking the hit head-on, he sidestepped. Not a bad choice—it kept him from being flattened.
But for his team, it was disastrous.
That decision left his allies completely exposed.
Alessio didn't slow down. He barreled straight toward the mage in crimson robes. The first target was obvious. It always had to be the spellcaster—the one with the highest damage potential.
The mage stumbled back, surprised, muttering the spell for [Wind Steps]. An instinctive, even clever move. But he had underestimated the difference between a regular Tank and Alessio Leone.
The axe was already in the air.— [Power Strike].
The staff rose in a desperate block—wood against steel. Pointless. The blade shattered the defense, broke through the barrier, and carved into the mage's chest in a crimson arc. The light in his eyes went out before he could even scream.
Fragile. Exactly what you'd expect from a mage.
The first one down.Less than three seconds into the fight.
The archer paled but still had the reflexes to release his arrow. It whistled through the air straight at Alessio's chest. He simply raised his shield, and the impact landed with a dull thud. The iron tip stuck into the wood, swallowed by the Tank's charge. Alessio was already sprinting again.
The axe came down next.Too fast to stop.
The archer's eyes went wide as the cold edge kissed his throat. A heartbeat later, his body collapsed, lifeless.
Two down.
Silence lasted only as long as a breath.
Then the warrior returned, rushing Alessio with longsword in hand.
Alessio had to admit: of the three, the warrior was the most skilled. His movements had weight, rhythm—almost like a real opponent.
The Warrior class was built for pressure.Short cooldowns, quick skills, a torrent of strikes to smother the enemy. In theory, perfect for taking down fragile opponents. In practice, terrible against a Tank.
Every strike landed like rain against a fortress wall.
Alessio raised his shield and activated [Bastion]. A red wave rippled through his armor, and his vitality quintupled, surging to fifty-five points—an absurd value for the game's early stage.
The warrior's blade slashed again and again—horizontal arcs, quick thrusts, improvised feints. It was almost a performance of youthful energy. But to Alessio, each blow only scratched the surface. His shield absorbed the strikes, his armor shuddered, but his invisible endurance bar barely moved.
The gap was brutal: his vitality drained slower than a snail's crawl.
Still, the warrior pressed on, attacking as if sheer persistence could pierce the wall. Alessio didn't blame him—the class encouraged this behavior. It was like pounding a drum: the faster the rhythm, the more exciting it felt.
Twenty seconds passed.Exactly the time Alessio had been waiting for.
A crimson glow surged through his shield again.[Shield Impact].
He lunged forward, a living wall in motion. But the warrior wasn't clueless. With sharp reflexes, he dodged to the side, avoiding the direct hit. Alessio raised an eyebrow. Good decision. Almost the right instinct.
But still, a rookie's instinct.
Because from that angle, the axe was already waiting.
[Power Strike].
The blade fell, its weight doubled by the skill. The warrior tried to raise his sword, but his stance was all wrong. Strength against strength—there was no contest.
Alessio's steel buried deep in his chest, cleaving through flesh and bone in a single, crushing blow. The man's eyes widened in disbelief as his body toppled backward, hitting the cold ground.
Game over.
Alessio drew a deep breath, adjusting the strap on his shield.Three against one.Three rookies eliminated.
It hadn't even been a warm-up.
Their bodies lay sprawled on the grass, eyes frozen wide in shock. Alessio didn't bother approaching. In a few minutes, the system would take care of it—their remains dissolving into motes of light, vanishing like dust in the wind. No loot. No glory. Only the Tower's cold reminder: fallen players left no spoils.
He tightened his grip on the shield, wiped his axe against the leather of his armor, and turned to Matteo.
His friend was still near the pit trap, where the stench of blood and smoke lingered. The last beastly cries had faded. All that remained was smoke and the heat of recent blasts. Matteo, his robe sleeves singed, calmly adjusted his glasses and looked up.
— Impressive, he said, almost playfully. As expected from a veteran.
Alessio allowed himself a short, dry smile. He recognized the fake flattery in the engineer's voice, but couldn't be bothered by it.
— Is it all done? he asked.
— Yes. Matteo twirled his staff with satisfaction. Ready for the next round.
Alessio shook his head.— No. We're leaving this place.
Matteo frowned in surprise.— What? Why?
— Those three will be back, Alessio explained, gesturing to the bodies still waiting to dissolve. And they won't come alone. No one gives up a place like this so easily. Not even rookies would abandon such an efficient grinding spot.
Matteo cast one last look at the massive pit. The inside still flickered with embers glowing among beast corpses.— What a shame… he muttered. With a little more time, we could've harvested so much more.
Alessio laid a firm hand on his shoulder.— Don't worry about that. We can't hit level five yet anyway.
The blond mage sighed, disappointed, but nodded.Alessio turned toward the city, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was already leaning west.
— Come. We have something to do before night falls.
Conviction rang in his voice.
The trap had served its purpose. Three thousand gold coins turned into fuel for progression. He and Matteo were now at level four—exactly where Alessio had planned.
The next stage, however… it wouldn't be as simple as sprinting through the forest without armor.
As for the trap? Alessio didn't mind leaving it behind. Other players would surely find it. Maybe even try to use it. But he knew better than anyone—it wasn't trivial to pull off. To run into that forest alone, without armor, to draw an entire pack of beasts and survive until the exact spot of the trap… no rookie could manage that.
Not yet.
If they tried, they'd probably die before even reaching it.
The faint smile tugging at Alessio's lips reflected only one certainty: the Black Tower was just beginning to bare its fangs.