From Alessio Leone's Perspective
Guilds.
The word alone carried weight within the Black Tower.
It was synonymous with power, influence, prestige — and above all, survival.
On the surface, many players believed a guild was nothing more than a group of people gathered under a single name, sharing resources and battles.
But Alessio knew that within the Tower, a true guild was something else entirely.
It was an institution — a living organism, recognized by the system itself.
And as with everything the system acknowledged, its rules were absolute.
Creating a guild was no simple matter.
Those who had never gone through the process had no idea of the amount of requirements, restrictions, and magical bureaucracy involved.
It wasn't enough to choose a nice name, raise a banner, and gather a handful of enthusiastic adventurers.
Those were the so-called paper guilds — temporary groups that dissolved after their first real defeat, lacking any official recognition.
A true guild — one the system formally acknowledged — required authorization from a recognized nation within the Tower.
And that alone eliminated ninety-nine percent of all players.
The Black Tower was made up of multiple autonomous regions, each governed by its own political entity — kingdoms, empires, federations, city-states, and even independent orders.
Each of these powers controlled the issuance of authorization orders — extremely rare and valuable documents that granted the right to establish a guild within their territory.
The Order of Authorization Alessio now held in his hands — the golden parchment with the royal seal and the spiraled emblem of the Tower — was one such document.
And for better or worse, it was tied to the Kingdom of Thalgrande.
Thalgrande was vast, powerful — but also rotten.
An empire sustained by ancient traditions and a corrupt nobility — a perfect reflection of what the Tower did to every civilization that grew too comfortable.
Founding a guild within its borders meant access to enormous resources, yes — but also to a tangled web of alliances and rivalries.
And the document's power ended there.
Outside Thalgrande's territory, it was nothing more than a decorative piece of parchment.
That limitation, however, didn't discourage him.
On the contrary — it felt almost poetic.
The Kingdom of Thalgrande was on the verge of disaster: the Awakening of the Green Moon, an event he himself had set in motion.
And in the chaos to come, founding a guild there would be like planting a seed in the heart of a storm.
Still, even with the parchment in hand, Alessio knew he was far from being able to use it.
There were more obstacles.
More rules.
More demands from the system itself.
To begin with, the document could only be activated by a player who had reached level 25 and already undergone class evolution — which, in practical terms, meant breaking the first barrier of the Tower.
It was the first great test of power — the one that separated casual adventurers from true conquerors.
Class evolution was more than just a boost in stats.
It was a rite of passage — a moment when the system officially recognized a player as something greater than a mere survivor.
Only then could they form official bonds, lead groups, and forge lasting alliances.
For an ordinary player, reaching level 25 required months of effort — endless hours of hunting, exploring, dying, and learning.
Even for talented ones, it was a long, grueling journey.
And Alessio, despite all his past experience, was only level 5.
He looked down at the parchment again, its golden seal shimmering faintly under the moonlight filtering through the forest canopy.
The glow seemed alive, pulsing softly as if waiting for the right moment to awaken.
The symbolic weight of the item was almost suffocating.
The Order of Authorization wasn't just a document — it was a promise.
A silent contract between the player and the Tower's world.
A vow of leadership, of responsibility, of power.
And there he was — a solitary man, exhausted after a bloody battle, holding something that could soon alter the fate of an entire region.
Alessio sighed — the sound muffled by the helmet.
"Months, huh…" he murmured, almost smiling.
He tucked the parchment carefully beneath his armor, pressing it against his chest.
The leather creaked faintly, as if the document itself pulsed beneath the steel.
The wind picked up again, and in the distance, he heard the deep, resonant roar of Sith — steady and final, marking the end of her hunt.
The forest responded with silence, as though the world itself acknowledged that the massacre was over.
Alessio turned his head slightly, his eyes reflecting the faint silver of the moon.
Between shadow and light, he could feel the future approaching — slow, inevitable.
But the future would have to wait.
He knew that much.
Even if creating a guild ranked high among his long-term goals — and it did — this wasn't the time.
Politics, alliances, recruitment, influence… those could come later.
For now, there were other priorities.
The scent of dry blood in the air, the faint shimmer of dew-wet leaves catching moonlight, the lingering hum of battle still alive in his veins — everything reminded him that this field had only just fallen silent.
And the Tower never granted rest for long.
The parchment would be stored.
The ideas, refined later.
Now was the time to survive and advance.
He adjusted his helmet — the metal groaning faintly — and secured the leather pouch inside his armor, pressing it against the steel above his heart.
The runes on The Titan's Bulwark still glimmered softly, a reminder that the energy of battle hadn't yet faded from him.
Then, as if summoned by thought, he heard it — a soft sound behind him.
Light. Precise.
Without hesitation — the kind of step only someone trained to kill could make.
He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Sith.
She emerged from the forest shadows as if molded from them.
Moonlight traced her outline — disheveled dark hair streaked with leaves and dust, a calm face smeared with dry blood, and eyes steady, unflinching.
The sword was already sheathed across her back, which told him all he needed to know about how the hunt had ended.
She walked toward him unhurriedly, her expression relaxed.
Yet something flickered at the edge of her lips — a faint, satisfied smile, fierce and almost childlike.
The moonlight caught her green eyes, making them gleam brighter — alive, wild.
The contrast between the gentleness of her face and the feral spark behind that gaze was almost unsettling.
Alessio didn't speak — he simply watched.
And she didn't need to.
The silence between them spoke enough.
He looked at the small smile she tried to hide… and knew instantly:
none of the Fighting Dogs had escaped.