From the perspective of Alessio Leone
The university dorm room smelled of accumulated dust, mixed with the cheap scent of disinfectant the janitor had used days earlier. The walls, covered with worn-out posters of bands and e-sports championships, betrayed the haste and disorganization of an ordinary young man — law books stacked carelessly on the desk, the monitor flickering on stand-by, and clothes tossed over the wooden chair that looked ready to collapse at any moment. A bottle of cold coffee rested beside a pile of scribbled notes, as if its owner had fallen asleep in the middle of a battle against time.
The bed, narrow and poorly made, seemed far too insignificant for the presence that was now awakening upon it.
Alessio Leone opened his eyes suddenly, like a cornered predator. His chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, and drops of sweat slid down his forehead, even though the night was cold. His expression, far from the sleepy calm of someone just waking, carried the fury of one who had just fought an invisible war.
With a sharp movement, he brought his right hand to his chest, his fingers closing tightly over his heart, as if trying to contain something that threatened to escape from there. The muscles in his arm contracted, veins bulging, while his short breaths sounded like the echo of a restrained thunderclap.
For a few seconds, he remained like that — eyes lost on the stained ceiling, jaw clenched, and every fiber of his body taut like a bowstring ready to release. Then, slowly, he inhaled deeply, his abdomen expanding beneath his open shirt, and let the air escape in a heavy, grave sigh.
— Damn them… — his voice came out hoarse, as if from deep within. — They must pay...
He still saw nothing around him. His honey-colored eyes, hardened, did not recognize the familiar space of the room. He did not look at the scattered books, nor at the computer that still cast a bluish glow, nor at the clothes on the floor. None of it mattered. It was as if the environment didn't exist.
Instinct guided him. Without hesitation, he turned his body out of bed and, barefoot, walked firmly toward the door. His footsteps echoed in the silence like drumbeats. The cold doorknob yielded easily to his hand, and he crossed the threshold.
But on the other side... there was no living room.
What greeted him was a narrow, suffocating corridor, lit only by a row of yellowish lamps flickering on the ceiling. The space seemed endless. To the left and right, identical doors lined up like soldiers in formation, each without a mark, without a number, only smooth surfaces hiding unfathomable mysteries. The air there was dense, heavy, as if it had been trapped for decades.
Alessio stopped, his muscles still tense. For an instant, the unshakable confidence he always carried seemed to waver. His eyes scanned the corridor for something familiar, but nothing responded to his sense of reality.
"What's happening…?" — he thought, his mind grinding like jammed gears.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of his own breathing. Until a voice reached him.
A voice he hadn't heard in a long time.
— Alessio… let me through.
Time seemed to freeze. He turned his face slowly, as if each second dragged an eternity with it. His gaze found the figure before him.
It was a young woman of unmistakable beauty, as if time itself had stopped around her. Her long, slightly wavy brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting with the softness of her fair skin. Her almond-shaped eyes, a deep and warm brown, shone with intensity, though at that moment they were half-closed in irritation. There was something magnetic in her gaze, as if it blended tenderness and firmness in equal measure.
She wore a dark blouse, tight enough to accentuate her delicate form, and around her neck a golden necklace hung lightly, reflecting the corridor's weak yellow light. The simple detail of the jewel seemed to carry a special weight, as if it were an inseparable part of her.
Alessio remained motionless, paralyzed. His heart, which moments ago had pounded with rage, now beat with memory. How long had it been since he had last seen her? An eternity… and yet, there she was, exactly the same. Not a strand of hair seemed to have changed, as if she were untouched by time.
— Alessio, move aside. — her voice cut through the silence like a fine blade, with a tone of impatience that sounded so familiar. — Just because you've graduated doesn't mean everyone else has. I have exams today. If I'm late, how will you make it up to me for standing in my way?
The words echoed in his ears as if from far away, as if they didn't belong to that world. Alessio didn't fully understand what she was saying. The strange setting, the suffocating corridor, his furious heart… nothing made sense. But there was something in her expression — that firm look, charged with genuine irritation — that made him step back instinctively.
He took a step back, clearing the way. She huffed in impatience, turned her face with a slight flick of her hair, and passed him without hesitation. The soft perfume she exuded lingered in the air for a few seconds, carrying with it a wave of memories Alessio did not want, but could not avoid.
Her footsteps echoed in the corridor, firm, until she reached a discreet exit, a heavy door that opened onto a staircase. Without looking back, she disappeared through it, as if it were just another routine morning.
Only then did Alessio's mind seem to start working again. He blinked a few times, his body still rigid, and slowly turned back toward the room he had left. He re-entered, closed the door behind him, and began to observe every detail of that place as if it were the first time.
The same messy university dorm… but now, nothing looked the same.
His first thought was a brutal denial:
"This is not possible… right?"
The words echoed in his mind as his eyes scanned the room more carefully. Every detail was a knife twisting in his memory: the narrow bed with its sagging mattress, the cheap lamp that squeaked when turned on, the wall calendar yellowed by time, showing dates from a semester he swore had long passed.
He knew that place better than anyone.
This was his university room. The very same room he had abandoned ten years earlier, a few months after the launch of The Black Tower's Awakening — the game that had not only changed the entire world but had also changed his life forever. It was there that it had all begun. It was there that Alessio Leone, the bored law student and passionate gamer, had finally found a way to turn his skill into power, influence, and real money.
But now… he was there again.
The freshest memory burning in his mind was terrible: his own teammates, those who had sworn to fight by his side until the end, plunging blades and spells into his back, merciless, over a single legacy item. The bitter taste of betrayal was still in his mouth, as vivid as the blood he had felt trickling in his final battle.
"No… this isn't possible. It can't be possible…"
But the room was there. The smell of dust, the poorly varnished wooden desk, even the old ceiling fan creaking faintly with every spin. Everything, absolutely everything, was far too real.
Alessio wasted no time. His heart raced, but his mind acted with the coldness of a strategist. In long strides, he crossed the room to the desk where an old computer rested, its gray case already yellowed with age, its flat screen slow to respond. His trembling hands slid over the mouse and keyboard as if it were the first time in years he had touched something so outdated.
He turned on the machine. The familiar hum of the fan and the crack of the old hard drive filled the room, a sound that seemed almost like destiny laughing at him.
With short breaths, he opened the browser. His fingers typed quickly, guided by instinct:
The Black Tower's Awakening.
The page loaded slowly, as if the universe itself wanted to heighten the tension of that moment. When it finally appeared before him, Alessio felt his legs weaken.
At the center of the screen, in imposing letters, was the announcement. Exactly as he remembered, as if time had frozen in that era:
"Prepare for the Revolution of Games: The Black Tower's Awakening."
Below the title, a massive countdown glowed in red:
6 months until launch.
Alessio stood frozen, staring at the screen as if it were impossible to believe what he was seeing. His throat dry, his eyes fixed, his heart pounding. For a few seconds, only the sound of the old computer filled the air.
Then, suddenly, he laughed.
A loud, hoarse, almost hysterical laugh burst from his lips, breaking the morning silence. He laughed with his head thrown back, shoulders trembling, not caring about the thin walls of the dorm or the strict quiet-hour rules of the building. What did it matter? Who could possibly understand what was happening to him?
Honestly, there was no more room for denial. As absurd as it was, as impossible as it seemed, reality stood before him, stamped in every detail.
Alessio had gone back in time.
Ten years.
Ten absurd years.