Alessio Leone's Perspective
Alessio wasn't trying to impress the girls.The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.
Of course, there was no real need for him to face every wave alone. There were other arms, other weapons, even long-range spells available in the group.
And yet, he had a reason for it.
Efficiency.
Dungeons were long.They always had been.And in these early stages of the Black Tower, the true enemy wasn't the crooked-bladed goblin or the wolf leaping from the shadows—it was the players' fatigue.
He remembered clearly the forums and streams from his past life. Players whining about "unfair difficulty," about repeated defeats against bosses that, in truth, were nothing but caricatures of the real challenge. What they didn't realize was that they reached the end of the dungeon exhausted. Every late dodge, every miscast spell, every dulled reflex from endless waves of mobs… all of it built up like interest on a debt, and the boss was just there to collect.
Alessio, on the other hand, had fought in the Tower for ten years.He knew the secret wasn't sharing the weight equally. It was focusing the load on the one who could bear it.
That was why he had taken every wave on himself so far.
He carried the burden simply because he could carry it with ease.
The cost, of course, wasn't negligible.Not the body—his was still fresh, vigorous.It was the mind.
Using skills repeatedly, with precision, drained mana constantly. And mana, more than energy, was a spark of consciousness itself. When it ran out, came the headaches, the mental fog, the sluggish thoughts.
Alessio had felt it hundreds of times in his past life.He knew well what it was like to fight with blurred vision, as if his brain were a circuit on the verge of burning out.
But now… now there was one crucial difference.
In this newly formed party, there was a healer.And not just any healer.
Eleanor Whitmore.
Most still had no idea what that name meant.But Alessio knew.A talent so absolute her very name would one day become synonymous with hope in hopeless battles.
And here she was, at the very beginning, casting simple beginner's spells that already carried the brilliance of her future.
Alessio almost smiled each time the sensation washed over him.The moment his head began to throb from mana strain, the bluish glow of Aurora's Blessing fell upon him.It was like swallowing a painkiller with instant effect.The pressure dissolved.The weight vanished.And his mind cleared again, ready to calculate, to fight, to win.
He had to admit: Eleanor wasn't just a name.She was real.And her talent already pulsed here, even in its earliest form.
But in the end, everything so far—all the goblins slain—was nothing but the prologue.The preview.
As soon as they reached the end of the corridor and the oval chamber revealed itself, Alessio knew the true game was about to begin.
The air was different there.Heavier.Colder.As if the dungeon itself were holding its breath, waiting for the next move.
Alessio raised his arm, halting the group before they crossed the threshold.His eyes scanned the space, absorbing every detail: the stone floor worn by ancient steps, the torches flickering as if they sensed blood, the dense silence before the roar.
"Alright…" His voice broke the stillness, firm as steel. "This is the first sub-boss room."
He could no longer fight alone.Not this time.This was the point where the Tower began to bare its claws.
And deep down, Alessio could only hope these rookies—the analytical engineer, the provocative red-haired mage, the silent archer, and the healer who shone brighter than she realized—wouldn't be crushed by them.
With instructions given, Alessio raised his shield and took the first step into the chamber.His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, steady, heavy, resounding like the beat of a war drum.
The group followed cautiously. Matteo kept adjusting his glasses, as if preparing to take notes on a scientific experiment; EmberFlare, surprisingly, held her staff aloft without quips or jabs; Silent walked in the rear, as silent as her name; and Lumina, at the center, clutched her necklace to her chest, her green eyes alert to every detail.
The silence was suffocating.Only the crackling of torches broke the stillness of the oval chamber.
Then, it appeared.
From the shadows along the cavern wall emerged a figure unlike the goblins they had fought so far.It was a goblin—there was no doubt—but one that stood as tall as a man.Towering, massive, moss-green skin stretched over muscles forged by endless battle. Broad shoulders were draped in scraps of crude armor, adorned with fangs and bones, and a human skull dangled from his belt as a grotesque trophy.
Its yellow eyes gleamed with conscious malice, and curved fangs jutted from its mouth in a sneer that was not merely animal—it was calculated.In its right hand, it carried a colossal axe, its blade scarred with notches and rust, yet radiating lethality. It wielded it with the calm of one who knew exactly the weight it could bring.
The sub-boss didn't rush, didn't roar, didn't strike immediately.It walked slowly, almost leisurely, sliding along the cavern wall like a hunter sizing up prey before the pounce.
Alessio frowned.He had fought countless bosses before and knew well the most terrifying truth of the Tower: these enemies thought.
They weren't mindless puppets programmed with fixed attack patterns.Their thoughts and strategies weren't far from a human's.Some, in fact, surpassed them.
They assessed risks, retreated when necessary, ambushed when opportunity arose.They didn't charge blindly to their deaths.They weren't fooled by cheap tricks.And they definitely didn't just stand there waiting to be slaughtered.
They were almost alive.Beings that clung to survival.Beings that carried instinct and reason.
And that was what made each of them… terrifying.
Alessio steadied his shield on his arm, feeling the weight of reality settle on his shoulders.The silence of the chamber stretched to infinity, as if the dungeon itself were waiting for the crack of the first blow to breathe again.
The sub-boss's yellow, frigid eyes stared at him without haste.Each of the creature's slow steps echoed like the beat of an ancient drum, a promise that blood would be spilled.
Behind him, Alessio knew the group was watching.Each carried their own burden: fear, anxiety, expectation.He, however, couldn't afford to feel anything but focus.
He drew a deep breath, tasting the heavy air of the cavern—damp stone, rusted iron.A chill crawled down his spine, not as fear, but as memory.This was the stage he had always lived on: the border between the impossible and the inevitable.
And with steady strides, Alessio marched.One step after another across the uneven stone, carrying not just an axe and a shield, but a decade of experience within the Black Tower.
He marched toward the first worthy fight he'd had in a very long time.