From Alessio Leone's Perspective
My mother used to repeat a saying like a mantra —
one of those phrases that slowly becomes part of you, shaping how you see the world.
Whenever my father complained about how much she spent on clothes, she silenced him with the same sharp, cutting reply:
"Clothes make the woman."
I never paid much attention to those words.
They always sounded like one of those little domestic battles you overhear growing up.
But now, standing before Sith in her new armor, I had to admit — my mother couldn't have been more right.
Sith had been attractive from the very first moment I saw her.
Her features carried a natural command — the kind that didn't need effort to draw attention.
Pale skin, almost porcelain-like, contrasted with hair as black as night.
And her eyes — green, feral, predatory — seemed to look straight through everything and everyone.
And her body…
It was surreal.
Every curve perfectly placed, as if sculpted by a perfectionist hand. Her waist — so slender it looked delicate — was something I could easily wrap my arm around.
I had already recognized her beauty back then, hours ago on the surface, when she was still just a mother inside an herb shop with her kids.
But now, after changing equipment, the impact was on a completely different level.
The rare, greenish leather armor molded to her body like a second skin.
It didn't hide her form — it emphasized it. Every line, every curve, so precisely shaped it even made her waist seem two centimeters thinner.
The way the colors shifted under the torchlight only deepened the contrast with her green eyes, making them burn brighter, wilder.
She was stunning.
There was no other word for it.
And if I could've afforded the time, I might've just stood there watching her — letting myself get lost in that mix of predator and seductress she radiated so effortlessly.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
If the only item I'd found in this dungeon had been the Breastplate of the Sleeping Dragon — the rare armor I had been absolutely certain existed here — I would've been satisfied and ended the expedition right then and there.
But things had changed.
Drastically.
The Bulwark of the Titans strapped to my arm wasn't just a prize.
It was a turning point.
An epic shield — something that completely rewrote the logic behind every decision I'd made so far.
With it in hand, every step forward was an opportunity.
And standing before the heavy door across the chamber, towering and marked with the same crescent-moon symbol that had guided us this far…
I knew I had to see what lay beyond it.
Before advancing, I took a deep breath.
And did something I hadn't done in a long time.
With a simple gesture, I opened my player profile.
Green letters flickered before my eyes — cold, clean, without flourish or illusion.
Only raw truth in numbers:
Name: Aslan
Title: One of the First Explorers
Class: Tank
Affiliation: None
Strength: 14
Intelligence: 4
Vitality: 18
Agility: 8
And below it, the item list — only four equipable slots, now filled with power I'd never imagined having so soon.
Armor: Breastplate of the Sleeping Dragon (Rare)
Head: Lionheart Helm (Uncommon)
Weapon: Rusty Axe (Common)
Shield: Bulwark of the Titans (Epic)
I stood there in silence for a few seconds, taking it all in.
And I had to admit — in just three days, I'd accomplished more than I had in months of my previous life.
My stats were already close to what I'd once achieved near level 30.
And yet, here I was, still level 5 — walking toward something far greater.
It felt surreal.
My body felt stronger than I'd ever expected.
And that was without even counting my new abilities.
A regular tank had four.
I now had nine.
Four from my class.
One from the Breastplate of the Sleeping Dragon.
One from the Lionheart Helm.
And three from the Bulwark of the Titans.
Nine in total.
More than many fully developed players at level 25.
There was no denying it — I was turning into a monster.
And I was fully aware of it.
But it still wasn't enough.
My goal was to go further.
To become something even more terrifying.
I closed the profile window.
Ready.
Resolved.
I looked toward Sith.
She didn't say a word, but her sharp green eyes said plenty.
She understood.
Calmly, she began to prepare as well — adjusting her sword and her new armor.
Side by side, we walked through the torch-lit hall.
The chamber that had once overflowed with gold was now empty.
Our footsteps echoed across the stone floor until we stopped before another grand door — once again marked with the crescent moon.
It was time to see what awaited us beyond.
Even with the new shield strapped tightly to my left arm and the draconic armor clinging to my body like a second skin, there was no room for arrogance.
The weight of my newfound power gave me confidence — enough to believe I could take on anything ahead —
but confidence was no substitute for caution.
The Black Tower never forgave the careless.
I followed basic protocol.
I raised the Bulwark of the Titans before me, forming a silent, black wall.
The runic surface thrummed faintly under my fingers — as if sharing in my tension.
With my right hand, I reached for the two handles of the door.
Cold to the touch. Heavy. Made of the same noble wood as every other gate we'd faced.
The crescent symbol engraved at the center gleamed under the green torchlight, reflecting back with a strangely living glow.
Slowly, I turned the handles.
The mechanism groaned softly — protesting, perhaps, after centuries of stillness.
Keeping the shield steady, I gave a light push — just enough for the doors to move on their own.
They opened gradually, sliding inward, revealing the darkness beyond.
With each inch the shadows retreated, a new fragment of the room came into view.
The air grew thicker, tense, heavy.
My breathing — controlled — merged with the absolute silence that filled the place.
Sith, right behind me, mirrored every motion, her steps soundless, her presence sharp.
And then, at last…
the space before us began to reveal itself.