From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

Without warning, Gears rushed forward, his figure a blur of movement. Ty braced himself, but before Gears could close the distance, the spinning crystal beside Aldric began to vibrate wildly. It emitted a sharp, high-pitched whine before exploding, sending shards across the room in a violent burst of light. Thousands of crystalline fragments scattered, cutting through the air like a razor storm, blanketing the entire space in a shimmering mist.

-

Five Minutes Earlier - The King's Chambers

The flickering glow of torches lit the grand stone room, casting long shadows across the high-vaulted ceiling. A charged silence hung over the room as King Threxian, sat in his ornately carved chair, flipping a coin between his fingers. The coin—an intricately forged piece, engraved with symbols of his lineage—glinted as it spun, catching the torchlight in rhythmic flashes.

General Omina stood before him, her back rigid, her gaze sharp as steel. She adjusted her stance, her cloak swaying slightly with the movement. Her presence commanded respect, her every motion deliberate and precise. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice steady but tinged with a controlled fury, "our spies have confirmed it. The Black Bulls are executing their own plot amidst the chaos of the tournament. This is our chance—the perfect moment to enact our plan and finally bring them down."

King Threxian caught the coin mid-air, his eyes narrowing as he examined the metal disc in his palm. He leaned forward, the shadows deepening around his angular features. "Revenge," he mused, his voice low and contemplative. "Revenge for Daemon and the others." He spun the coin on the table before him, watching it rotate, its sound echoing faintly through the chamber.

General Omina nodded, her jaw tight, her eyes burning with an intensity that belied her otherwise calm demeanor. "Yes, Your Majesty. Lieutenant Daemon gave his life, as did countless others. The Black Bulls have been a plague on this kingdom for far too long. It's time we turned their ambitions against them."

The king watched the coin until it wobbled and fell flat, its metallic clink breaking the brief silence. He looked up, his eyes locking with Omina's. "And what of the demon?" he asked, his tone neither approving nor disapproving, merely seeking clarity. "Ty... He's a pawn in all this, but a dangerous one nonetheless."

Omina drew in a breath, considering her words carefully. "He's pivotal, Your Majesty. The Black Bulls want him—they believe he's the key to some greater endgame. Our intelligence indicates they intend to use him to consolidate their power once the tournament is done. If we capture Ty first, we control that outcome."

King Threxian's lips twitched into a cold smile. He picked up the coin again, turning it over between his fingers, feeling the weight of it—the decision it symbolized. "So we bait them with their own ambition," he murmured. "We lure them into their own trap, and we strike when they least expect it."

Omina's eyes flashed with approval. "Precisely, Your Majesty. Our forces are positioned to intercept. The Black Bulls are scattered, overconfident in their belief that we are unaware of their plans. We use that. We draw them in, isolate them, and then... we eliminate them."

Threxian nodded slowly, his gaze distant for a moment, as though envisioning the future she painted. He leaned back in his chair, flipping the coin one last time, catching it deftly before it could fall. "Good," he said, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to settle over the room. "We proceed as planned. The Black Bulls will taste their own poison. And Ty... if he becomes a problem, you know what must be done."

Omina bowed her head, her face a mask of unyielding determination. "He will be dealt with, should it come to that," she assured him.

The king rose from his chair, his robes flowing around him like liquid shadow. He walked to the window, looking out at the darkened landscape of his kingdom. The world outside was turbulent, the winds howling across the distant mountains. He could see the storm brewing, both in the sky and in the lives of those who dared defy him. "General," he said without turning, "make sure they know what happens to those who challenge the throne."

Omina turned sharply, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she nodded. "They will know, Your Majesty. None who stand against us will be left standing." Stay updated through My Virtual Library Empire

Threxian's eyes lingered on the horizon, his grip tightening around the coin. The weight of his ancestors bore down on him, the countless kings before him who had ruled with iron fists. He would not be the one to falter—not now, not ever. "Let them come," he whispered, almost to himself. "Let the Black Bulls think they can outwit a king."

He turned back to Omina, his expression one of fierce resolve. "They will regret ever setting foot in my kingdom. Begin the operation. The time for shadows is over—now, we strike."@@novelbin@@

General Omina's eyes gleamed with a mix of vengeance and loyalty as she saluted sharply, her armor glinting in the flickering torchlight. "It will be done, Your Majesty."

-

The sound of gears clicking echoed, disorienting Aldric and Ty as they lay amidst the debris, the air thick with dust from the recent explosion. Ty struggled to sit up, his body aching from exhaustion. His head spun, and his vision blurred as more gears clicked, rotating around them like the very world was being reconstructed. Slowly, everything began to stabilize, the spinning coming to a halt. Ty blinked, disoriented, and found himself lying on a smooth, pearlescent floor.

"Where…?" Ty whispered, his voice hoarse. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the haze as he pushed himself onto his elbows. He saw Aldric to his right, also struggling to his feet. The room they were in was massive, almost spherical, and its smooth walls had a pearlescent sheen that reflected an otherworldly light. The space was eerie—silent, save for the occasional metallic whirr that still echoed from somewhere unseen.

As Ty's vision cleared, his gaze panned across the room. He recognized faces—Rosana, Alexander, Yagrid, Gisorn, John, Waddle, Fernando—all of them from the first stage. They were battered, bruised, clothing torn, bodies bearing clear signs of the trials they'd endured during the second stage. Alexander seemed the least affected, his posture still proud and defiant, though even he bore some cuts and bruises. A few unfamiliar faces were scattered among them—likely others who had made it through to this point.

Ty rubbed his temples, his breathing still shallow as he took in the surroundings. The floor beneath them shimmered with a pearlescent glow, an unsettlingly pristine contrast to the battered contestants standing upon it. Across the room, separated from Ty and his group, was another cluster of people—eight of them, all wearing matching uniforms. It was the uniform—the insignia of the Black Bulls. Ty's eyes widened, realization dawning as he recognized the emblem stitched onto their sleeves.

"Black Bulls..." Ty whispered under his breath, his brow furrowing. The group of eight stood in rigid formation, their attire a stark black marked with silver linings. The one standing in front wore the same uniform, except his was lined with crimson, and he was gesturing as if giving orders. Ty couldn't hear what the man was saying—the sounds of clicking gears and the echo of earlier chaos were still ringing in his ears.

Aldric pulled himself to his feet, still shaky. He looked at Ty, then at the unfamiliar group across the room. He spat a bit of blood onto the floor, grimacing. "Those bastards… Black Bulls," he muttered, catching Ty's eye. "What're they doing here?"

Ty shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "I don't know... but they're not supposed to be here, right? They weren't a part of this stage."

Rosana stumbled over, one arm cradling her side, her lip split and bloodied. "The hell's happening?" she rasped, glaring over at the Black Bulls. "We were supposed to be fighting each other, not… them." She jerked her head towards the unfamiliar group.

Alexander's voice cut through, firm and commanding, despite his battered state. "Everyone, keep your wits about you. This isn't over yet." He eyed the Black Bulls, his gaze narrowing. "They've got that insignia—they're the ones that attacked some of us before. We can't take them lightly." X x C