Perspective: Alessio Leone
When you're born into a family with the surname Leone, it's almost inevitable that you develop a fascination with felines.
It was as if the name itself carried some symbolic inheritance — an ancestral calling that bound them, somehow, to the great predators of the wild.
In the Leone household, that had always been a running joke.
His father used to say it was "in the blood."
His mother said it was "in the genius."
And Alessio and his brothers simply laughed at the fact that, without realizing it, every time they turned on the TV, they ended up watching some documentary about lions.
It became a tradition.
Almost a family ritual.
But there was something about those documentaries that had always bothered him as a child — something that never quite made sense.
In all of them, lions were exalted as kings of the jungle, undisputed rulers of the savanna — the greatest among predators, the very symbol of strength, dominance, and majesty.
And yet, when the cameras showed real life, the ones doing the hardest work — the ones who hunted, who brought food to the pride — were the lionesses.
The males, on the other hand, always seemed… lazy.
They spent their days lying down, watching from a distance, occasionally fighting brutal battles for dominance — but most of the time, they just rested.
To young Alessio, that sounded like a contradiction.
King of the jungle?
Lying down while the lionesses did all the work?
It sounded more like an honorary title than one earned.
But now, living in a lion's skin, he understood.
Lions weren't lazy.
Nor cowardly.
Nor indolent.
They simply lived by a different instinct.
The lionesses were indeed the hunters.
But the lion's role was something else — quieter, deeper, more primal.
While a lioness's body pulsed with the urge to run, a lion's pulsed with the urge to guard — to defend the territory, to ensure the pride's survival, to rise as a living wall against any threat.
It was an instinct Alessio now felt in every fiber of his being.
And, more than that — it made sense.
Throughout his life, even before the Black Tower, he had always followed that same impulse.
Since childhood, when he'd step between bullies and his younger brothers, to adulthood, when he instinctively shielded anyone under his care — friends, allies, even strangers.
It was something inborn.
A need to maintain balance, to protect, to be the shield.
And now, in this feline body, that same impulse had taken on a new form — sharper, purer.
The scent of the intruders hung in the air like an invisible current of electricity.
And the instant that scent reached his nose, something inside him woke up.
It wasn't thought.
It wasn't strategy.
It was instinct — the very thing the game had been trying to reveal since the start of this trial.
If before he had felt torn — between human logic and animal instinct — now everything was clear.
The message was simple.
Obvious.
Inevitable.
Defend.
Defend your mate.
Defend your territory.
Defend what is yours.
Alessio knew exactly what he had to do.
And for the first time since the trial began, there was no doubt.
The roar started low, vibrating deep in his chest like restrained thunder.
But as that certainty solidified within him, the sound grew — rising up his throat until it erupted into the air, deep and thunderous.
A roar fit for a king.
And with that sound, he declared to the entire savanna what the essence of Alessio Leone had always known:
A lion's strength lies not in hunting… but in protecting.
The moment he saw the intruders, however, Alessio realized things wouldn't be as simple as his newfound confidence suggested.
Something about those distant silhouettes was wrong.
Heavy.
Threatening.
His instincts recognized it before his mind could catch up.
Their scent was strong, dominant, thick with testosterone and fury — an odor that screamed territory, possession, war.
And the first rational thought that crossed his mind was brutally logical:
"The Essence Ignition trial isn't guaranteed."
That thought echoed through him like an iron bell.
Because within the Black Tower, every opportunity came with a price.
The rule was simple: failure meant death.
And death — even inside the game — meant the end of Ascension.
There were no second chances.
No restarts.
Either he survived and proved himself worthy of ascension…
Or he vanished along with his incomplete Essence, condemned to mediocrity.
And before him, that trial had finally arrived.
The invader was another lion.
Gigantic.
A golden monster of coiled muscle and burning eyes, approaching with his body low and his mane billowing like a flaming crown.
His expression carried pure rage — a mix of fury, instinct, and certainty.
He wasn't a wanderer.
Not a lost animal that had stumbled into the wrong land.
He was a challenger.
A predator with purpose.
And in the savanna, purpose meant everything.
Alessio knew what that meant: if he wanted to keep his trial from collapsing, he would have to kill or drive out the intruder.
It was the oldest law — one that needed neither morality nor logic.
The law that the body itself demanded he obey.
The air between them vibrated with tension.
The heat shimmered.
The invader advanced slowly, paws sinking into the dry earth, his gaze locked forward, every step deliberate.
And Alessio… hesitated.
Not out of fear, but awareness.
In that moment, he understood the real problem.
He no longer had his shield.
No axe.
No skills.
No equipment.
Only claws and teeth.
And though the lion's body pulsed with brute strength and sharpened reflexes, the man inside that body didn't know how to use them.
For ten long years, Alessio Leone had been one of the greatest tanks in the Black Tower.
He knew the exact weight of every strike, the reach of every blade, the timing between attack and defense.
His human body reacted with surgical precision to every motion — a symphony of strategy and instinct.
But now…
None of that mattered.
He was a novice again.
Trapped inside a body he didn't yet understand —
a body built to kill with itself.