From Alessio Leone's Perspective
Even without much interest in that reunion, Alessio stayed faithful to the plan.
To him, the event was merely a social ritual — an echo of a life that, in his mind, had already become secondary.
The real future was elsewhere — inside the Black Tower.
He knew exactly what he would do once the servers came back online at 10 p.m.
He knew how much time he had — four hours.
Enough to make an appearance, exchange a few words, seem normal… and then return home.
Nothing more.
And in a way, the contrast between those two worlds made him smile.
He was about to step into a hall full of young lawyers dreaming of government positions and prestigious law firms, while he himself already possessed — and would soon acquire even more — resources and power that most of them could never imagine.
Even giving away three hundred thousand dollars' worth of gold coins to Freya — a sum that, for anyone else, would have been unthinkable — hadn't weighed on him in the slightest.
It was merely a strategic move.
An emotional investment.
And, deep down, a natural gesture for someone who already viewed the real world as something temporary.
Still, Alessio made sure to prepare himself properly.
He dressed with care and restraint — a flawless black tuxedo, cut in a modern, elegant style, paired with a slim tie and polished shoes that gleamed beneath Palermo's streetlights.
Even though his mother wouldn't be physically present at the event — and he knew she wouldn't — Alessio was certain she would be watching virtually, following the livestreams and posts from her old colleagues.
And if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was disappointing her twice in the same lifetime.
So, he had to look good.
Composed.
Balanced.
When Beatrice offered him a ride, he politely declined.
He lived close enough to campus to walk, and besides, the walk would help him clear his mind before hours of formal conversation.
What he didn't expect was the attention he'd draw.
The moment he crossed the university gates, the glances began.
Some discreet, others obvious — a few accompanied by muffled laughter.
A man walking across campus in a tuxedo during the afternoon was bound to draw attention — especially if that man was Alessio Leone, whom many still remembered as the model student, the one with impeccable grades and near-unattainable composure.
But, to his surprise, people weren't really focused on him.
The stares came and went, but everyone's attention was fixed elsewhere — on one topic.
The Black Tower.
He realized it as soon as he crossed the main courtyard.
The air buzzed with constant murmurs — fragments of animated, anxious conversations filled with numbers, theories, and speculation.
The voices overlapped, but the keywords were always the same.
As Alessio walked past the scattered groups of students, he noticed how nearly everyone had a phone or holographic screen in hand, eyes glued to the news feeds, videos, and discussion forums.
The blueish glow of the displays reflected across eager faces, and the atmosphere carried that same feverish energy he remembered from his first life.
With each step, he could feel the Tower closing in again — even outside it.
It was strange.
That digital world, which until recently had been just a game, was now overflowing into reality — tangible, unstoppable, alive.
While everyone around him speculated about the future, he already knew it.
He knew exactly what the Tower would become.
He knew how deeply it would swallow the world.
But for now, he simply kept walking.
The sound of his shoes echoed against the marble floors of the main corridor, blending with the hum of voices and the nervous laughter of students.
And, for the first time in a long while, Alessio felt that the two worlds — the real and the virtual — were beginning to merge before his very eyes.
After a few more minutes of walking, the building that hosted the event finally came into view — a structure that perfectly blended classic and modern architecture, in the way only an Italian university could.
The Palermo University Faculty of Law Event Center
stood at the far end of campus, framed by a semicircular garden lined with tall, perfectly trimmed cypress trees.
The stone-paved walkway reflected the soft light of dusk, leading the eye toward an ornate wrought-iron gate — wide open, as if welcoming guests to an evening of elegance.
The building itself was a spectacle.
Its light-stone façade and ornamental columns evoked the grandeur of Renaissance palaces, with tall windows and graceful arches.
But above the main entrance, a frosted glass plaque displayed the university's logo in sleek modern typography, illuminated by thin white LED lines — a subtle touch of contemporary style hinting at the institution's youthful spirit.
Polished marble steps led up to a glass-paneled hall, and through the translucent doors Alessio could already glimpse the glow of suspended chandeliers and the golden reflections of champagne flutes being set on tables.
The interior, though refined, retained a touch of youthful charm: digital banners projected the names of the attending alumni, old photos cycled through a holographic screen, and in the background, a soft instrumental melody — something between jazz and classical — filled the air.
In the side gardens, small groups of guests chatted and laughed, holding glasses of sparkling wine and posing for photos.
The men wore tailored suits; the women, elegant and understated dresses — all exuding that quiet, effortless grace so typical of Italian academia, with just a hint of vanity that seemed impossible to separate from Florence's cultural air.
To the left of the building, an open courtyard surrounded a circular fountain where water shimmered under the amber tones of twilight.
The gentle sound of the rippling water mingled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glass.
Alessio paused for a moment at the foot of the stairs, his gaze lingering on the illuminated façade.
The contrast between the formal, academic world and the digital chaos of the Tower still made him smile.
At that moment, watching the golden reflections of the hall and the silhouettes moving gracefully inside, he felt a curious realization — that he was stepping into another kind of arena.
Not one of monsters and swords, but of words, smiles, and alliances.
He adjusted his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, and took the first step up the stairs.