Perspective: Alessio Leone
Until now, Alessio simply hadn't had time to think.
From the moment the Lich of the Green Moon had shown his first sign of life, every part of him — reason, instinct, body, and mind — had converged toward a single purpose: survive and win.
In that moment, nothing else existed.
Neither the weight of the past, nor the future that waited beyond the Tower.
Only the fight.
The Lich was both threat and opportunity condensed into a single existence — an enemy capable of destroying him, or elevating him to a level few players would ever dare dream of.
Alessio had always been practical — cold in his choices, methodical in his reasoning — and so, when faced with something that fused risk and reward so perfectly, he knew exactly what to do.
Act first. Think later.
That was the principle of anyone who survived the Black Tower.
But now, with the echo of combat fading, the dust settling, and the air regaining that bittersweet scent of dried blood instead of the metallic stench of necromancy, something had changed.
The silence, which had once felt like victory, was now heavy.
The walls still hummed faintly with the heat left behind by magic, and the spectral embers on the ground continued to burn in shades of green and blue — a subtle reminder that death never truly vanished from the Tower.
It was in that silence that Alessio felt it.
Not physical pain — he had endured far worse wounds before.
But something deeper.
A pressure in his mind, the kind of discomfort that always crept in when he realized the real problem was only beginning.
The headache.
That familiar ache that came after every battle — the one that warned him there were still things on the field that couldn't be left behind.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
He could almost hear his own heartbeat echoing inside the helmet.
The calm after war was harder to endure than the war itself.
The fight was over.
The Lich had fled.
But deep down, Alessio knew this wasn't the end.
It was only the interlude.
And now, surrounded by silence and debris, he finally understood the real challenge awaiting him —
one that couldn't be faced with strength or strategy.
Sith.
She stood only a few steps away, her green eyes fixed on him, her body relaxed from battle yet carrying the posture of someone full of questions.
And he knew exactly what those questions were.
What had happened inside the Essence Awakening trial wasn't normal.
Not even close.
Nothing about it could be ignored — or swept aside like some Tower glitch or convenient system anomaly.
They had lived nearly four months inside that world.
Months that should not have existed.
And in the end, they hadn't just come out alive — they came out changed.
Marked.
And then there were the cubs.
The two small golden bodies, sleeping peacefully in Sith's arms, were living, undeniable proof that what had happened inside couldn't be forgotten.
Even if both of them tried to pretend, even if silence seemed easier — the evidence was right there, breathing.
Alessio knew this conversation had to happen.
Sooner or later.
And not as a man speaking to a woman — but as one equal speaking to another.
He didn't have time — or patience — for sentimentality.
This wasn't about that.
It was about survival.
Sith wasn't just a player; she was one of the few capable of actually shaping the course of the game.
The future Goddess of War.
And if Alessio truly wanted a chance at reaching the top of the Black Tower, having her by his side wasn't a luxury — it was a necessity.
The problem was: how to start this conversation?
He looked at her and, for an instant, realized how easy it was to forget the weight she carried.
Up close, with her black hair falling over her face and the cubs nestled against her, she looked more human than ever.
But her eyes… those eyes were the same — that mix of savagery and calculation, instinct and intelligence, the very combination that fascinated him and kept him on guard at once.
He took a deep breath.
Words came slowly.
But before he could speak, she did — and he silently thanked whatever gods ruled this Tower for sparing him the burden of being first.
"So… is it over?" Sith asked, her voice low but steady.
The sound echoed across the empty chamber.
The question seemed simple — but Alessio knew better.
She wasn't asking whether the fight had ended.
She was asking if all of it — the chaos, the transformation, the loss of control — was truly over.
He hesitated, then answered calmly:
"For now, yes. But things are going to get worse soon."
Sith lifted her gaze, and the light in her eyes shifted subtly.
Not surprise — recognition.
She also knew what the system announcement meant.
The Regional Event wasn't just narrative. It was the start of a catastrophe.
Alessio took a step toward her, brushing the dried blood off his armor with his free hand.
"For now, we should return to the city," he said, with the tone of someone already planning his next move.
But before he could finish, he added:
"And I'm afraid you're going to have to move."
He hadn't even finished the sentence before her expression changed.
No words — just a subtle tightening of her jaw, and a flash of something — anger, maybe fear — crossing her green eyes.
She held the cubs tighter, the instinct of a mother surfacing before any rational thought.
Alessio realized immediately that he had stepped onto a minefield.
And, as a veteran player, he tried to correct it at once.
"I mean…" he raised both hands slightly, his voice softer now, "the first place the Lich of the Green Moon will attack is Durnholde."
He lowered his gaze for a moment, his tone heavier.
"So soon… there won't be a city left to return to."
The words hung in the air — heavy, final.
The silence that followed was almost cruel.
Sith didn't move for a while, just looked at him — and behind her, the faint whistle of wind passing through the ruins was the only sound left.
Alessio felt the weight of it pressing against his chest, but his expression remained composed.
He had spoken the truth.
Durnholde was doomed.
And whether they liked it or not, they would have to choose: leave now… or be buried with it.