Perspective: Alessio Leone
If someone asked Alessio to name his favorite players from his previous life,
the Goddess of War would, at the very least, be among the top ten.
She was an independent player—someone who had reached the top without the backing of great guilds or the favor of powerful allies.
And that was exactly the kind of goal Alessio had always set for himself.
But now, standing before her and feeling the weight of her gaze,
he had to admit—silently, yet undeniably—that this woman was intense.
Her green eyes were like blades.
It was the kind of gaze only a true predator could have—cold, sharp, studying every inch of his stance,
as if she could measure the danger he posed just from the way he breathed.
Only after deciding—through some unknown instinct—that Alessio wasn't a threat, did she finally look away.
She turned naturally, refocusing her attention on her children,
who were still locked in their ridiculous struggle over the same herb.
"Enough, both of you," she said in a firm, even tone—neither harsh nor gentle.
"The shopkeeper told me where we can find more of this herb. For now, you'll keep this one,
and I'll go after another later. But right now, you need to get to school—
and we're already disturbing the store's business."
The girl, whose determined eyes and features mirrored her mother's, immediately raised her voice.
"Mom, I picked this herb first! So it should stay with me.
When you find another one, Steve can have it."
The Goddess of War narrowed her eyes, already ready to respond—
but the boy was quicker.
"Nonsense! You snatched that herb right out of the seller's hands.
How is that 'picking it first,' Anna?"
For a brief moment, the air in the shop grew heavy.
Alessio saw the Goddess of War sigh once again—
the sigh of someone who had had the same argument dozens of times without ever reaching a conclusion.
She raised her hand, drawing both children's attention, and spoke clearly:
"First of all… what did we say about real names?"
They responded in perfect unison, like soldiers repeating a drill:
"No real names."
A slight nod from her marked approval.
"Good. Now, about this herb…"
Before either of them could react, her hand moved—quick, fluid, almost invisible.
With the precision of a seasoned warrior, she snatched the herb from her daughter's grasp before the girl could even blink.
The girl froze, wide-eyed at the speed.
"…until we have two, it'll stay safely in my hands."
Both twins looked ready to protest, frustration burning on their faces—
but their mother didn't give them the chance.
With swift, almost choreographed movements, she ushered them toward the door.
"That's enough. No more arguing."
Her words cut off any room for resistance.
Alessio watched as she guided them outside—still muttering under their breaths,
but powerless before their mother's authority.
Then, silence returned.
When the door closed behind them, only Alessio and the young shopkeeper remained.
"Welcome, sir. How can I help you?" asked the young clerk,
his voice carrying that well-rehearsed charm only a trained merchant could muster.
Alessio kept a neutral expression.
It was time to put his plan into motion.
"I need a Gloomkit herb," he said directly.
"I've searched the entire city, and I was told this is the only shop that ever had one."
It was subtle—but Alessio caught it.
The boy's smile vanished, as if ripped away by force.
Still, he tried to keep his tone polite.
"See, sir… that's a rather complicated matter.
Indeed, my grandfather did sell a Gloomkit herb—many years ago.
Unfortunately, that was the only one we ever had.
Now… we simply have none in stock. It's been decades."
Alessio let disappointment sink into his expression—
exaggerated just enough to look convincing.
Half-lidded eyes, a drawn-out sigh—
the look of a customer about to lose something precious.
"But surely you know where this herb grows, don't you?" he pressed,
his tone firm but layered with false urgency.
"I'm willing to pay a generous amount—just for the information."
The young man slowly shook his head,
his frustration genuine this time.
"The herb we sold was harvested by my grandfather," he explained, trying to end the matter.
"As for the location… he never told anyone. Not even family."
That was the moment Alessio's eyes gleamed.
This was the opening he'd been waiting for.
"Please… let me try to convince him," he said, leaning slightly over the counter,
as if revealing a secret card.
"Let's do this—an advance payment of thirty gold coins. Non-refundable.
All I ask is to speak with him."
The clerk froze for a few seconds.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
The conflict in his eyes was obvious—hesitation versus temptation.
"Sir… that might be a little difficult," he finally murmured.
"My grandfather… isn't in the best condition."
Alessio ignored the warning completely,
as if he hadn't heard it at all.
The offer slid from his tongue once more—this time heavier, firmer:
"Fifty gold coins."
The number shattered the boy's resistance.
Greed flashed in his eyes before any answer could leave his lips.
"Alright, sir. But… even if you don't get what you want,
you mustn't bad-mouth us," he added almost as a warning,
trying to keep a trace of professionalism.
"This deal was your idea."
Alessio gave a faint, satisfied smile.
"Deal."
As he spoke the word, his mind was already several steps ahead.
He knew very well that "not in the best condition" was a generous understatement.
The old man wasn't just frail.
He was senile.
Lost to the depths of advanced dementia.
But Alessio also knew that such madness could be both a curse and an opportunity.
Because only through such unfiltered ramblings could the man's buried trauma slip free.
After all, the old man—now senile—had once been a young stable hand
who marched with Thalgrande's army into the depths of the forest.
The sole survivor of the cursed Gloomshade Campaign.
A survivor the kingdom had never acknowledged.
A survivor who had never spoken a word of what he'd seen there.
That truth would only be uncovered years later,
by another player—one desperate enough to dig for it.
A player who, holding a unique quest, had stormed into this very shop,
willing to spend gold just to talk to a mad old man.
At the time, everyone laughed at his naïveté.
But that desperate act had unexpectedly granted him
the key to acquiring magical items that would change his destiny.
Unfortunately for him, in this life, that opportunity was no longer his.
This time—it belonged to Alessio.