Perspective: Alessio Leone
"I think it's best we continue this conversation later," I said, eyes fixed on the window.
My voice sounded firm yet calm — the kind of tone that comes when the mind has already calculated something the body hasn't fully processed.
Freya lifted her gaze, confused.
"Why?" she asked, but I was already standing.
"Because first, we should leave this city."
I didn't need to explain further.
She followed my gaze, and what we saw beyond the glass said everything.
The movement outside had changed completely.
The same café that, just yesterday, had been a quiet resting point now looked like a window opening onto a military staging ground.
Along the cobblestone streets, columns of soldiers marched in tight formation, the golden and blue banners of Thalgrande fluttering in the cold digital morning wind.
Their heavy boots struck the ground in perfect rhythm, echoing off the stone and glass buildings — a sound that, even in a virtual world, could make one's chest tighten.
They were battalions of Thalgrande's army — easily recognizable by their scaled armor and eagle-shaped helmets.
They marched toward the southern gates — the nearest point to the frontier.
The line of defense.
Most likely, they were the first wave of reinforcements being sent to the front.
A large enough movement to make it clear that the siege was approaching.
Behind them came others — less disciplined, but overflowing with energy.
The players.
Their clothes and armor were colorful, mismatched, reflecting the mix of classes and styles typical of novice adventurers.
They moved in small groups — some laughing loudly, others singing, many holding unsheathed weapons just to show off the fresh shine of their blades.
Their confidence was almost contagious — and dangerous.
I saw a group of four posing for a magical portrait before departing.
Another, just three people, marched beside the soldiers, greeting civilians on the sidewalks as if they were real heroes.
Some even raised their fists, saluting the cheering crowd.
People watched with genuine excitement.
NPCs and low-level players gathered to witness the passage of the "volunteers," whispering among themselves as if watching legends in the making.
There was pride, admiration — and envy.
Their voices overlapped:
"Those are the first recruits!"
"They'll make a fortune if they win!"
"They say survivors can level up ten times at once!"
I'd heard that kind of talk before.
Many times.
But experience had taught me what those young ones didn't yet know:
no one marches smiling toward death — unless they don't realize it's waiting for them.
That improvised parade, disguised as heroism, was in truth the collective funeral of hundreds of players who had no idea what awaited them.
Freya said nothing.
Her expression had changed.
The curiosity and anxiety from moments ago gave way to something else — something colder, heavier.
Outside, one of the army captains shouted orders, aligning the columns.
The spears caught the sunrise, scattering golden beams through the air like lines of light.
It was an impressive sight — and, at the same time, tragic.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment.
That rhythmic sound of marching boots brought back too many memories.
The Black Tower had always been like this: majestic on the surface, merciless between the lines.
And there, watching Thalgrande's battalions leave the city under applause, only one thought echoed in my mind — the same one that had repeated itself across other lives, other games, other beginnings of war:
They think they're walking toward glory.
But what awaits them is pain, despair, and digital oblivion.
No songs will be written for these heroes.
And in the end, not even their bodies will remain to be remembered.
"My sister is coming. I need to bring her with me."
I simply nodded.
There was no reason to argue.
The truth was, my plan for that day inside the Black Tower was simple — or so it seemed.
After all the commotion of the last mission, after the debates in the real world and the changes happening behind the game's curtain, I wanted something straightforward: to level up.
Nothing more.
But, as usual, what seemed simple never really was inside the Tower.
With each new cycle, the requirements grew.
The monsters became smarter, the maps broader, and even the combat system seemed to adapt to each player's style.
It was as if the Tower itself was learning from us — and, honestly, I was starting to believe that's exactly what it was doing.
That's why leveling up had stopped being just a matter of strength.
It had become a slow process — one demanding strategy, coordination, and above all, unity.
I couldn't grow alone.
I had to lift the entire team with me.
Matteo, Eleanor, Hana, Cassandra… and now, Freya.
Outside, the march continued.
The streets still vibrated with the metallic rhythm of Thalgrande's army and the cheerful shouts of adventurers preparing to depart for the front.
I opened my system menu.
A series of translucent windows appeared before me, projecting holographic notifications, contacts, and group statuses.
The title [First Pioneers] still gleamed beside my name — a constant reminder of the achievement that had placed us one step above the rest: the victory in the First Dungeon.
But also a burden — an expectation.
After all, being the first to carve a path meant everyone expected you to keep leading the way.
I took a deep breath and began typing.
"Meet at the main gate of Eldenwall.
We have a new mission cycle ahead."
I sent the message.
Within seconds, confirmation pings appeared one after another.
Everyone replied quickly, acknowledging the call.
That simple sequence of names made me realize something: we were truly growing.
Not just in strength or experience — but in synchronization.
I closed the panel and looked one last time through the café window.
The soldiers of Thalgrande still marched toward the front lines, believing they were heading for glory.
We, on the other hand, prepared for something different — another descent into the Tower, where the true danger came not from battlefields, but from the Tower's own nature.
The cycle was about to begin again.
And soon, my companions and I would face a new challenge.