Alessio Leone's Perspective
Alessio hadn't lied to the girls.
This dungeon had five sub-bosses, each in their own chamber, and a final boss at the end.
And indeed, the difficulty of the remaining four sub-bosses was nearly the same as the one they had already defeated.
But that was only true as long as he was the Tank of the party.
Because…
In the Black Tower, when a player entered a dungeon, the system never asked for a difficulty setting.
There were no floating windows with "easy, medium, or hard."
No adjustments.
Each dungeon had a single level of challenge.
You went in, you fought, you cleared it, escaped, or died. Simple as that.
But that didn't mean all dungeons were alike.
Far from it.
Over the years, players themselves had classified them, creating a scale that reflected their cruelty and complexity.
Their names were as blunt as they were brutal:
Beginner Dungeons Mid-Tier Dungeons High-Tier Dungeons Infernal Dungeons Death Dungeons Impossible Dungeons
The hierarchy spoke for itself.
Impossible Dungeons were exactly that: impossible.
Even after ten years of the Tower's existence, not one had ever been cleared.
Every attempt ended in failure.
Every group that dared enter one vanished in silence, exterminated within, their screams never reaching the outside world.
Death Dungeons carried an equally honest name.
They had been conquered… but at the cost of countless lives.
Victories built atop piles of corpses.
Infernal Dungeons had become the natural territory of the great guilds.
The ten colossi of the Black Tower.
Not because of forced monopoly, but because only they had the discipline, organization, and numbers to handle such places.
Below them lay the High-Tier Dungeons.
The realm of veterans and respectable guilds, where only experienced groups dared to tread.
Then came the Mid-Tier Dungeons, the battleground of small and mid-sized guilds, where rising newcomers sought to prove their worth.
And finally, the Beginner Dungeons.
The easiest of all — especially for veteran players.
And for one simple reason: their purpose wasn't to test but to teach rookies.
And it was precisely in one of these dungeons that Alessio and his unlikely party now found themselves.
The purpose of this dungeon was clear: prepare novices for the reality of the Tower.
Each sub-boss had the same raw power but applied it in a completely different way.
One relied on speed.
Another on weight.
Another on reach.
Each fight forced beginners to face a different style of combat.
It wasn't a killing ground.
It was a classroom.
Even if dying in this classroom was entirely possible.
And for Alessio, that detail made all the difference.
Because, as the Tank, the real challenge wasn't fighting the sub-bosses themselves.
It wasn't about dodging strikes or absorbing their blows.
The true question was: would his companions survive the waves of goblins the sub-bosses summoned every time?
In the end, things went more smoothly than Alessio expected.
The second sub-boss burst forth in a frenzy of screams: a dual-blade goblin warrior charging at him with wild fury.
Its strikes were faster, but its swings narrower. In the end, Alessio was forced to deflect blow after blow with his shield.
His companions, as predicted, struggled with the goblin wave.
They didn't lose control, and no one collapsed from mana exhaustion like last time, but Ember and Matteo came within a hair's breadth of death.
Only Eleanor's swift reflexes saved them — one mistake would have ended the fight right there.
The third and fourth sub-bosses were steadier.
Two variations of the same pattern: one goblin with a greatsword, another with sword and shield.
Straightforward, predictable battles where Alessio dominated with ease.
The fourth, especially, was almost too simple.
Facing another shield-bearer was like staring at a broken mirror.
Alessio had the skill and technique, while the goblin only swung clumsily.
The victory was clean.
As for his companions, they were already showing signs of progress.
They handled the goblin waves without collapsing, though a few slip-ups left them wounded.
Almost acceptable, Alessio concluded silently.
Still green, still far from reliable, but at least no longer a complete burden.
The fifth sub-boss, however, marked a turning point in the dungeon — for one simple reason: it was a goblin warrior wielding a spear.
The long weapon kept Alessio at bay, forcing him to retreat more than he liked.
Each thrust cut through the air like thunder — hard to block, impossible to absorb head-on.
And it was in that space that his companions finally found their chance to contribute.
While Alessio held the creature's attention, Hana, Ember, and Matteo attacked from range.
They became the main damage dealers of that round.
And to Alessio's surprise, the goblin wave was wiped out efficiently, with hardly any mistakes.
Even Matteo, with only a few hours of gaming experience, showed clear progress.
His spells no longer sputtered awkwardly, but struck with control and precision.
He definitely had natural talent, slowly shaped by the Tower's pressure.
Alessio was genuinely glad he had dragged him here.
In the end, with the spear snapped in two and the sub-boss staggering, the battle was over.
And the finishing blow didn't come from Alessio.
A spear of ice from Ember pierced through the goblin's chest, bursting out its back in a shard of blue frost that froze the very air around it.
The impact made the creature roar in agony, stumbling forward.
And before it could collapse, a storm of arrows pinned it from every side.
Each of Hana's shots found a joint, a gap, a patch of exposed armor.
The wooden shafts piled into the monster until it looked like a grotesque pincushion.
The goblin tried to raise its broken spear, as if refusing to accept its fate.
But its strength was gone.
Its yellow eyes dimmed, its body trembled — and finally it toppled onto the stone floor with a heavy thud.
Silence.
Only the crack of ice breaking and the faint quiver of arrows in flesh filled the room.
And in that moment, Alessio knew: the five sub-bosses had fallen.
And now, only the final boss stood between his party — and himself — and the title he longed for.