From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

He inspected it with an appraising glance before tossing it aside. The weapon clattered to the ground but didn't stay there long. The Sentry raised his hand, and the harpoon sprang back to him, zipping through the air like a loyal predator returning to its master.

"A fine weapon," Threxian said. "But you should've aimed for my head."

The Sentry lunged, closing the distance with surprising speed. He spun the harpoon in his grip, its energy crackling as he swung it toward the King's neck. Threxian ducked, the weapon grazing his shoulder and leaving a faint scorch mark on his armor. The Sentry followed up with a quick thrust aimed at the King's midsection, but Threxian sidestepped, the attack narrowly missing its mark.

"Fast," Threxian remarked, his movements fluid as he evaded a series of strikes. "But not fast enough."

The Death Sentry planted his feet and hurled the harpoon again, this time with even greater force. The weapon's glow became blinding as it soared toward its target, vibrating with lethal intent. Threxian's hand shot out, catching the harpoon mid-flight. The impact reverberated through the chamber, the raw energy of the weapon clashing against the King's strength. For a moment, it seemed as though the harpoon might break free, but Threxian held firm.

"Clever," he said, tightening his grip on the harpoon. "But still not enough."

The Sentry didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he recalled the harpoon, the weapon ripping itself free from the King's grasp and returning to its master. Threxian's eyes narrowed as he surged forward, closing the gap between them in a blur of motion. The Sentry barely had time to react before the King's fist collided with his chest, sending him sprawling across the chamber floor.

Coughing, the Sentry scrambled to his feet, his grip on the harpoon tightening. He spun it in an arc, the weapon's energy lashing out like a whip. The crimson tendrils struck Threxian, forcing him back a step. Seizing the moment, the Sentry charged, driving the harpoon forward with all his strength.

The tip of the weapon pierced Threxian's armor, drawing a thin line of blood. The King's expression shifted, his smirk replaced by a flicker of irritation. He grabbed the harpoon's shaft, stopping its advance. The two locked eyes, their strength pitted against one another in a battle of wills.

"Not bad," Threxian admitted, his voice low. "But persistence alone doesn't win battles."

With a sudden twist, he wrenched the harpoon from the Sentry's grasp and swung it like a club, the blunt end striking the man's side. The impact sent the Sentry crashing into a nearby pillar, the stone cracking under the force. He slumped to the ground, blood dripping from his mouth as he struggled to rise.

Threxian approached, his steps slow and deliberate. He raised the harpoon, its energy still flickering faintly. "A good weapon," he said, examining it one last time. Then he snapped it in half, the crimson light extinguishing as the pieces clattered to the floor.

The Sentry let out a ragged breath, his vision swimming. Still, he forced himself to his knees, his body trembling with effort. Threxian crouched in front of him, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Do you have anything left?" he asked, his tone devoid of mockery.

The Sentry's answer was a weak, defiant glare. He lunged forward with his bare hands, aiming for the King's throat. Threxian caught him easily, his grip closing around the man's neck. He lifted him off the ground, holding him aloft as if he weighed nothing.

"Three," Threxian said, his voice calm and final. With a single, devastating motion, he drove the Sentry into the ground. The chamber shook with the impact, dust and debris scattering into the air. The Sentry lay motionless, his harpoon's faint glow flickering out completely.

The room seemed to inhale sharply. The remaining Black Bulls shifted uneasily, their confidence visibly eroding. Among them, Heriean stepped forward, his crimson-streaked figure commanding attention. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms marred with jagged scars that seemed to pulse faintly. Blood pooled at his fingertips, defying gravity as it coiled and swirled, forming weapon-like shapes that hovered ominously around him.

Heriean didn't bother to wipe the blood smeared across his face. He looked up at the King with sharp, unflinching eyes. "You've taken three of us. Let's see if you're still standing after me."

Threxian tilted his head, almost curious. "Interesting," he mused. "A man willing to spill his own blood for power. Go on, entertain me."@@novelbin@@

Without a word, Heriean raised his arms. The blood around him shot forward in sharp crimson tendrils, cutting through the air with deadly precision. Threxian sidestepped the first volley with ease, his movements fluid and deliberate. The tendrils twisted mid-flight, altering their trajectories as Heriean guided them with subtle hand movements. One slashed across the King's cheek, leaving a thin red line that quickly healed.

"Fascinating," Threxian said, his smirk never fading. "But you'll need more than that."

Heriean slammed his palm against his chest, forcing a gush of blood to erupt from a self-inflicted wound. The red liquid spiraled outward, forming a dense barrier that pulsed like a heartbeat. He extended his arms again, and the barrier fractured into dozens of jagged blades that rained down on the King like a crimson storm.

This time, Threxian didn't dodge. He raised his forearms, allowing the blades to strike him. Each impact rang out like a hammer on steel, the force causing cracks to spiderweb across the stone floor beneath his feet. A few of the blades managed to pierce his defenses, embedding themselves shallowly into his arms and shoulders. The King regarded the weapons protruding from his flesh with mild amusement before flexing, sending the shards splattering harmlessly to the ground.

"You're determined," Threxian said, stepping forward. "But determination without control is chaos."

Heriean growled under his breath and crouched low, his hands slamming into the ground. Blood seeped into the cracks beneath his feet, disappearing into the stone. For a moment, there was silence, then the floor erupted. Massive spikes of blood shot up from the ground around the King, each one aimed at vital points. Threxian leapt upward, twisting in midair to avoid the deadly barrage.

Heriean wasn't finished. As Threxian descended, he raised his hands, summoning the blood spikes to follow their target like heat-seeking missiles. The King landed lightly, pivoting on one foot to dodge the first spike, then catching the second with his bare hand. He spun the spike around and hurled it back toward Heriean, who dissolved it into a harmless mist before it could reach him.

The chamber was filled with the sounds of their clash—blood splattering against stone, the hiss of tendrils cutting through the air, and the steady, deliberate movements of the King. Heriean's control over his abilities was unparalleled, each attack more complex and unpredictable than the last. But Threxian remained untouchable, his movements calculated and efficient, his smirk growing wider with every failed assault.

Heriean's breathing grew labored, the color draining from his face as his relentless attacks took their toll. The blood surrounding him began to thin, his control faltering. Still, he pressed on, slashing upward with a massive, scythe-like construct formed from his own blood. The blade arced toward Threxian's neck, forcing the King to raise both arms to block.

For the first time, the King grunted with effort as the blade struck, the force pushing him back a step. Heriean's eyes lit up with a flicker of hope, and he pressed the advantage, summoning every ounce of his remaining strength. The scythe disintegrated into a swirling vortex of blood that engulfed the King, the sheer force of it cracking the walls of the chamber.

The vortex dissipated, revealing Threxian standing unharmed, his smirk replaced with a look of mild annoyance. His armor was scratched, his hair disheveled, but his eyes burned with unrestrained power. "You've done well," he said, his voice low. "But you've reached your limit."

Heriean staggered, his knees buckling. The blood around him dripped to the ground, forming sluggish pools at his feet. Threxian stepped forward, his boots splashing in the crimson liquid. "You'll die knowing you gave everything," he said, raising a hand.

Before Threxian could strike, a voice cut through the tension. "Enough."

All eyes turned to the source. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—a tall, imposing man with a calm yet commanding presence. His dark robes swayed lightly as he approached, and the remaining Black Bulls seemed to straighten instinctively at his arrival. Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire