Perspective: Alessio Leone
Alessio had to admit — fighting while wielding an Epic item was something else entirely.
He had tested dozens of rare and uncommon pieces of equipment in his previous life within the Tower, but nothing — absolutely nothing — compared to the feeling of the Bulwark of Titans vibrating against his arm.
Every impact the shield absorbed thundered through him like restrained lightning, and the entire structure seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat — as if the artifact itself possessed a will of its own.
The first thing that stood out was its power to retaliate.
Every time Alessio blocked a strike, the shield reacted.
And roughly thirty percent of the time, a shockwave erupted from its surface — a violent discharge of kinetic energy that expanded outward, sending enemies flying like rag dolls.
It was a defensive weapon made for someone like him.
And its effect was devastating on an open field.
The hall was filled with the sound of war.
The stench of rotting flesh mingled with the iron tang of fresh blood and the ozone of necromantic power.
Zombies, skeletons, and ancient soldiers marched upon him like a river of death.
Alessio moved through that sea of bodies like a living wall.
Every step carved space.
Every motion made the air itself tremble.
A corpse lunged from the right — a warrior clad in cracked armor, clutching a broken sword.
Alessio turned his shield, and the blow collided head-on, sparks bursting from the impact.
In that instant, the Bulwark of Titans reacted.
A shockwave exploded from the center of the shield, warping the air with a sharp crack.
The undead soldier was hurled backward, crashing into two others; all three flew like stones from a catapult, hitting the ground with the hollow sound of breaking bones.
Another came from behind — slow, but persistent.
Alessio stepped back, twisted his torso, and swung his axe in a diagonal arc.
The blade tore through the creature's neck, cleaving flesh and tendon down to the shoulder.
The head rolled free, yet the body still twitched, clawing for him.
He shoved it with the shield — the metallic crunch of breaking ribs merged with the sharp crack of stone fracturing behind it.
Two more advanced from the front.
Alessio blocked the first strike with his shield, and before the second could reach him, he swung the axe in a tight, controlled motion.
The blade split the creature's skull and caught in bone for an instant.
The third attacked — a makeshift spear fashioned from bone — but before it could touch him, the Bulwark reacted again.
Another explosion.
The wave of energy rippled across the ground, hurling the undead backward and clearing a wide circle in the tide of decayed flesh.
Alessio took a deep breath — the sound muffled inside his helmet.
The air within was hot and heavy, but fatigue didn't come.
Each new wave of enemies was just another obstacle — another step forward.
The Lich of the Green Moon remained motionless in the distance, leaning against his coffin, watching.
His long fingers glided through the air, guiding the glowing runes orbiting around him.
Every movement of those hands summoned more dead — rising from cracks, shadows, and broken walls.
And still, the monster didn't seem worried.
Only… curious.
For any other player, fighting dozens of enemies at once would be suicide.
But not for him.
With his vitality tripled and the shield counterattacking at every blow, he was a slow, steady engine of destruction.
The ground around him was covered in bodies.
Some still twitched, others were mere fragments — broken torsos and crushed skulls.
Each step left crimson marks on the stone floor, a trail of blood and dust.
The weight of the shield, the blood-stained axe, the constant rhythm of cracking bone — all blended into a single sound.
A cadence of war.
And slowly, Alessio pressed forward.
The Bulwark of Titans trembled with every block, sending waves of power through the floor.
No matter how many undead came at him, they began to feel… fragile.
The golden wall advancing through them was unbreakable.
At one point, Alessio paused briefly — just to look at the battlefield ahead.
The sight made him smile beneath his helmet.
The Lich of the Green Moon, still unmoving at the far end of the hall, seemed convinced that his army would win through attrition — that this endless tide of corpses would eventually bury the man of steel who advanced.
But if that was his plan, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.
Because Alessio hadn't even started fighting for real.
Until now, he had merely been warming up — moving with restraint, controlling the flow of energy, studying the undead's behavior, and feeling the true weight of the Bulwark of Titans on his arm.
Since the moment he obtained the shield, he hadn't yet faced a battle worthy of testing it.
Now, at last, he had the chance.
His breathing remained steady, rhythmic.
The guttural moans of zombies echoed through the corridors — the shuffling of feet, the crunch of bones under their own weight — but to Alessio, it was nothing more than background noise.
His focus was fixed on the center of the hall.
On the corpse that watched him with those red, cold eyes.
The Lich tilted his chin slightly, like a king observing a pawn in motion.
But Alessio was no pawn.
And he was about to prove it.
"Let's see then…" he muttered, adjusting the shield before him.
The Bulwark responded instantly to his touch — its metallic surface shuddering, releasing a golden light that expanded in rippling circles.
The deep hum of its energy echoed like distant thunder.
Alessio planted his feet, locking his stance.
The shield angled forward, his entire body following suit.
Active Skill: Great Charge.
And then — he moved.
There was no sound but the roar of air splitting.
The ground shook beneath his weight.
His image blurred into a golden streak, the shield before him transformed into a living wall, the axe strapped to his back.
The impact was cataclysmic.
The first zombie flew ten meters through the air, the second smashed through a stone column, shattering on impact; the third didn't even realize what hit it — crushed to pulp before it could react.
Each body hurled aside left a trail of dust and dried blood swirling in the air.
The shockwave that followed his charge warped the very room.
Broken runes flickered alive and died as he passed; the walls trembled, and even the Lich's coffin seemed to shudder.
The best way to describe the scene was simple:
a runaway war machine crashing through useless barricades.
None of the undead could stop him.
Every touch of the shield triggered another burst of force, throwing entire ranks skyward.
Bodies collided midair, forming a storm of bones and shredded flesh.
The entire chamber shook.
The accumulated power of the skill fractured the floor beneath his boots, each step heavier than the last — as if the Bulwark itself was feeding on the momentum.
Alessio could feel the strength flowing in sync with his heartbeat.
His body responded like a weapon — every muscle, every fiber, every breath perfectly timed.
The distance between him and the Lich was closing fast.
The coffin loomed nearer.
The Lich, still motionless, watched the advance without taking a single step — yet there was something new in those crimson eyes.
A glint of interest… and perhaps, respect.
Alessio tightened his grip.
The wall of undead before him was no longer an obstacle — it was rubble.
And the roar that tore from his throat was that of a man who didn't merely accept the fight —
he hungered for it.
And without hesitation, he kept going.