From Alessio Leone's perspective
For a moment, Alessio wondered if his eyes were deceiving him.The flickering torchlight cast unstable shadows against the hillside walls, and the heated argument between the two groups created a background noise that almost distracted him. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, a fleeting resemblance—just another face among the millions who had thrown themselves into the Black Tower's Challenge.
But no.It wasn't an illusion.
Little by little, disbelief gave way to certainty.The figure before him didn't wear the Legendary Dawn Mantle, nor did she wield Avalon's Solar Ring—those weapons and relics that, in the future, would become eternal symbols of her identity. Now she wore only simple beginner's gear: light clothes of reinforced fabric, nothing hinting at the greatness that would one day shake entire continents within the Black Tower.
And yet, it was her.
Eleanor Whitmore.
In Alessio's past life, she wasn't just a respected player.She was the Guild Master of the Order of Eternal Light Knights—one of the most stable and respected organizations of the game's first era.
Her guild never reached the same heights as the monstrous coalitions that dominated the world—the so-called Colossi. Organizations so vast their names were whispered like divine entities within the Tower. These colossi boasted thousands of active members, complex supply lines, military hierarchies, professional class divisions, and even their own economic systems. True digital empires, capable of moving crowds like marching armies.
Compared to them, the Order of Eternal Light Knights seemed smaller, almost modest.They didn't have the resources to wage weeks-long wars, nor the logistics to keep hundreds of players simultaneously exploring the Black Tower's floors. Their members numbered only a few thousand, disciplined and well-organized, but without the political weight to influence the massive alliances that decided the game's course.
And yet, they could never be dismissed.The Order occupied a unique space: a high-level, respectable, stable power that never fell into irrelevance. They didn't dictate the Tower's future, but they were never forgotten either.
Which, compared to Alessio's own past, was a brutal difference.
In his previous life, he had belonged to a small guild, nearly invisible in the Tower's grand stage. A band of adventurers with no prestige, no influence, struggling to gather enough players for even mid-level dungeons.
The Order of Eternal Light Knights, by comparison, was an absolute giant.If his old guild was a flickering candle in the wind, the Order was a bonfire, casting its light across at least part of the Tower's darkness.
The truth was clear:The Order of Eternal Light Knights never reached the Olympus of the Colossi.But neither did they ever fall away from greatness's shadow—always close, always remembered, upheld by their master's radiance.
Because…
Eleanor didn't need the guild's greatness to be remembered.She herself was greater than the institution she led.
On the battlefield, she stood as a living legend.Among millions of players, Eleanor Whitmore was recognized as one of the five greatest healers in the entire game. Her mastery at keeping allies alive in impossible situations elevated her to the rank of immortal. And that single talent—that one fact—was enough to grant her near-infinite fame and glory.
In his past life, Alessio had only been able to watch her from afar.He saw her in videos, broadcasts, recordings of raids where her healing turned the tide of battle. Eleanor was an untouchable presence, radiating confidence and power, always surrounded by elites—too far above for an anonymous Tank like him to ever approach.
But now…Here she was, right before his eyes, arguing with rookies in front of a dungeon no sane player should even consider at this stage of the game.
Eleanor Whitmore.
Alessio's heart skipped for an instant—but his mind stayed cold as steel.This was real.The woman he had revered from a distance was now within reach of his direct gaze.
He let the noise of the argument between the groups wash over him. The words were harsh, threatening, but their meaning didn't matter. His attention was locked on the figures ahead—especially one.
Eleanor's group consisted of three girls.
The first was Eleanor Whitmore herself.Her silky blonde hair fell in gentle waves to her shoulders, catching the torchlight like strands of living gold. Her green eyes, clear and intense, held the same firmness Alessio remembered from great battle streams—though now still youthful, untouched by the weight of worldwide fame. Her attire was that of a novice cleric: a simple white robe with wide, modest sleeves. But the necklace on her chest stood out. It wasn't a rare relic—it couldn't be, not at this stage of the Tower. Yet it wasn't ordinary either. The metal shimmered faintly, and Alessio guessed it was likely an uncommon item, a reward from some distinct early quest—a peculiarity foreshadowing the brilliant future awaiting her.
Beside her stood a mage, dressed in a crimson robe that clashed violently with her fiery orange hair—voluminous, untamed, and full of life. Her eyes gleamed with defiance, and the subtle smirk on her lips betrayed someone who relished provocation. Long earrings swayed with every motion, and several delicate chains adorned her neck—decorative trinkets, purchased purely for beauty, useless for stats in the Tower, yet reflecting the torchlight like a living blaze around her. The redhead was as fiery as her attire, a flame that drew eyes as much for her confidence as for her looks.
Finally, completing the trio, was an archer.Her features were delicate but unmistakably Asian, marked by a serious, tight expression that contrasted sharply with her companions. Her long black hair was tied in a high ponytail, and her narrow, sharp eyes remained fixed on the rival group. Her steady hand rested on her bowstring, as if she were a heartbeat away from loosing an arrow. Her clothes were light, the gear of a rookie hunter—but her posture radiated skill.
There was something cutting about her, like a sheathed blade, ready to be drawn.
Even Alessio—who wasn't the type to chase after girls—had to admit: this trio was simply dazzling.And in the end, he knew very well it was precisely that beauty that had drawn trouble to them.