Perspective: Alessio Leone
Alessio's gains from awakening his essence were… unexpectedly simple.
So simple, in fact, that for several seconds he just stared at the panel before him in silence, a confused expression hidden beneath his helmet.
Golden letters floated in the air, their light reflecting off the armor and the damp walls, while the distant echoes of the Lich awakening reminded him he didn't have much time.
Even so, he couldn't help himself.
He needed to see.
He needed to understand what he had become.
The system interface appeared clearly before his eyes.
The first menu flickered faintly, as if reacting to the energy still pulsing within his body.
And there it was — the summary of everything he now was:
Name: Aslan — The Lion
Title: One of the First Pioneers
Class: Tank
Affiliation: None
Below it came the attribute chart — dry, precise, brutally transparent:
Strength: 19
Intelligence: 4
Vitality: 28
Agility: 13
And finally, the section that made every player's heart race: Items.
Four equip slots.
Four pieces that determined life or death inside the Tower.
Now, each of them shone with a power Alessio had never expected to obtain so early.
Armor: Cuirass of the Sleeping Dragon (Rare)
— Forged from the scales of a dragon in eternal slumber. Each strike it endures makes the air tremble, as if something ancient were about to awaken.
Head: Helm of the Lion's Soul (Uncommon)
— A heavy helmet with a golden mane and burning blue eyes. When the wearer roars, the sound travels far beyond normal range.
Weapon: Rusted Axe (Common)
— A piece of iron that survived the passage of time. No shine, no runes, only history. Yet, in the right hands, it could become a legendary weapon.
Shield: Bulwark of the Titans (Epic)
— Forged in the world's depths, its surface bears the scars of ancient battles. Every crack tells of a victory.
Alessio's eyes skimmed over each description, absorbing every word, every detail.
But what truly caught his attention was the button right below his name — a new option that had appeared after his awakening: Essence.
He hesitated for a second, drew a deep breath, and selected it.
The screen expanded.
And what appeared before his eyes made him smile.
Essence: Lion's Blood
You have proven your worth and fought like a true lion — not for glory or pride, but to protect what is yours.
Thus, you are now the Defender.
The one who never falls.
The beast that stands between danger and those who trust in you.
Effects:
Per Level:
+2 Vitality
+1 Strength
+1 Agility
Passive Effect:
While there are allies nearby — those under your protection — your Vitality is naturally tripled.
For a moment, Alessio stood motionless, eyes fixed on the words before him.
His breathing slowed.
The silence felt almost reverent.
Then he laughed.
Not a short or disbelieving laugh — but a low, genuine, satisfied one.
The kind only a player who truly understands what they're seeing can produce.
"This is… insane," he muttered, his own voice sounding different behind the helmet.
Yes — insane was the word.
A Tank with that kind of natural growth wasn't just strong — it was monstrous.
And that passive effect? Tripling Vitality whenever allies were nearby?
That was an affront to the game's logic.
Even at Level 5, he knew — knew — he could face someone Level 40 and survive.
Maybe even win.
So much power at this early stage would be called a bug in any other game.
Ridiculous.
Utterly ridiculous.
And yet, it made sense.
In the end, the Tower didn't reward technique alone.
It rewarded meaning.
And no meaning was purer than that of defending.
He closed the window, the golden glow fading from his vision, replaced once again by the damp darkness of the chamber.
In the distance, the air vibrated again.
That same distorted scream echoed — louder now, closer.
The sound of the Lich awakening.
Alessio adjusted his axe on his shoulder and tightened the shield against his arm.
The familiar weight made him smile once more.
The lion's blood roared through his veins.
Each heartbeat repeated an ancient promise etched into instinct itself:
I do not retreat.
After all, a Tank wasn't made to run.
And so, without hesitation, Alessio took his first step toward the dark corridor —
where destiny, and the Lich, awaited him.
Everything in the coffin chamber looked the same.
The twisted columns, the high moss-covered ceiling, the air thick with moisture and death — nothing had changed.
But what now stood at the center of that room turned the silence into something alive, dense, almost tangible.
The coffin was open.
Its lid shattered in two across the stone floor, runes burned out, covered in ancient ash.
And leaning against the sarcophagus — stood the being.
Tall. Lithe.
Every line of its body radiated something unnatural.
Its skin — or what remained of it — was the cold gray of corroded marble, marked with cracks that pulsed with inner blue light, as though filled with dead energy.
The bones of its face showed beneath a thin layer of dried flesh, and its eyes — two burning red orbs — glowed with predatory intensity from deep sockets.
Its hair, thin and white as ash, fell messily across its forehead, contrasting the skeletal hollowness of its face.
The clothes it wore were the warped remnants of a once-regal armor — dark plates carved with necromantic symbols, lines of pulsating energy flickering in and out like breathing.
The chestplate was made of layered blades, thin as ribs, revealing a spectral light flowing within the body.
With every movement came the creak of bones and the whisper of magic.
A faint bluish-green mist drifted from its back, like cold smoke, curling through the air before dissolving into the ground.
It gazed upon the world with a calm only the dead could possess.
Its red eyes swept across the room slowly — until they found Alessio.
Something ignited within them.
Not rage, nor curiosity — but recognition.
A memory of something ancient, long forgotten.
Behind it, the coffin pulsed like a heart, emanating intermittent light and fragments of green mana that floated like sparks.
The throne that had once been empty now had its master.
This was no mere corpse.
It was the echo of a will that refused to fade.
A king without a throne.
A mage who had defied death — and won.
The Lich had awakened.