From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

Rusuf didn’t linger. His sightless gaze turned toward Tressa, who stood alone now, her violet liquid coiling protectively around her like a living shield. The air around her shimmered with the raw energy of her newly unlocked skill, and her portals flickered into life again, spinning in erratic patterns.

Before Tressa could respond, Rusuf moved.

His form blurred, vanishing from where he stood and reappearing inches from her. Tressa gasped as his sword came down in a sharp arc, her violet liquid surging up instinctively to block the strike. The blade met the liquid with a deafening clang, sparks flying as the energy recoiled against itself. Tressa gritted her teeth, the force of the impact sending vibrations down her arms.

She thrust her hands forward, her liquid reforming into jagged tendrils that lashed at Rusuf from every angle. Each strike carried the raw energy of her newly unlocked skill, the violet glow pulsing with life as it moved with unnatural speed. Rusuf’s sword became a blur, deflecting and cutting through the tendrils as he stepped forward, unrelenting.

"You’ve become stronger," he said, his voice calm but edged with a faint curiosity. "But strength without clarity is wasted."

Tressa snarled, her frustration boiling over as she opened two portals behind Rusuf. Her liquid shot through them in a spiraling lance, the strike perfectly timed with another wave of tendrils from the front. For a moment, it looked as though she had cornered him. But Rusuf twisted, his sword flashing as he cut through the lance before spinning to deflect the tendrils. The movements were so precise, so effortless, that it seemed as though he had predicted her attacks before she even made them.

"You think too loudly," Rusuf said, his voice soft but carrying across the battlefield.

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Tressa’s eyes widened as he closed the distance between them again. She threw up a barrier of violet liquid, the shimmering surface rippling with energy as it solidified into a protective wall. Rusuf didn’t hesitate. He raised his free hand, and the air around him shimmered as if reality itself was bending. The barrier cracked, then shattered, the liquid falling lifelessly to the ground.

The force of the collapse sent Tressa stumbling backward. Her portals flickered and faltered, the energy unstable as her control wavered. She clenched her fists, summoning the last of her strength to reform her liquid into a massive spiraling construct that loomed above Rusuf. It hovered for a moment before crashing down, the force of its descent shaking the ground beneath them.

Rusuf didn’t move. He raised his sword, and with a single upward slash, the construct split in two. The pieces disintegrated before they even hit the ground, the violet energy dissolving into faint wisps of light.

"You fight like someone who doesn’t know what they’re fighting for," Rusuf said, his tone almost regretful. "Tell me, Tressa. What drives you? What keeps you standing?"

Her breathing was ragged, her arms trembling as she struggled to summon another attack. "My comrades… my people…" she gasped. "You wouldn’t understand."

Rusuf’s expression remained unreadable. "Perhaps not. But that’s why you’ll lose."

Before she could respond, Rusuf stepped forward again, his sword flashing as he struck at her. She raised her arms instinctively, her liquid forming a desperate shield, but it was too slow. The blade grazed her side, the force of the strike sending her sprawling to the ground. The violet glow around her dimmed as she struggled to push herself up, her body trembling with exhaustion.

Rusuf stood over her, his blind eyes gazing down at her with an unsettling calm. "You’ve done well," he said softly. "But this is the end."

Tressa’s body lifted into the air, suspended by an invisible force as Rusuf raised his free hand. The golden energy around him pulsed, enveloping her as her liquid fell lifelessly to the ground. She gasped, her strength fading as the energy consumed her.

"You’ll live," Rusuf said, his tone devoid of malice. "But only because you’re not the real enemy."

He flicked his wrist, and Tressa’s body was flung across the battlefield, landing beside Ronnick and the others. The audience erupted into cheers and gasps, the drones capturing every moment as Rusuf turned away, his sword disappearing into the folds of his cloak.

He stood alone in the center of the battlefield, the golden light around him fading as he faced the remaining Black Bulls. His expression remained calm, but there was an unshakable finality in his presence.

"This world runs on order," he said, his voice steady but sharp, carrying the weight of judgment. "And I will see it delivered."

A slow, deliberate applause echoed through the arena, breaking the silence like a stone thrown into still water. From the edge of the battlefield, Lt. Heissman stepped forward, his lanky frame swaying slightly as if mocking the tension in the air. His saber hung loosely at his side, the polished blade gleaming faintly under the harsh arena lights. A smirk played across his lips, sharp and cutting. @@novelbin@@

"Beautiful speech, Osalf," Heissman drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "But you’re just as insufferable as ever. Always the preacher, always the same frail little man trying to hold himself together with words."

Osalf’s expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of tension tightened his grip on his blade. He had known Heissman once, back when they had both been cadets. Even then, Heissman’s bitterness had been evident, a toxic blend of arrogance and insecurity that had only grown with time.

"You’re out of your depth, Heissman," Osalf said evenly, his voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about ego. It’s bigger than you."

Heissman laughed, a short, sharp sound devoid of humor. "Ego? You think that’s what this is? No, Osalf. This is about proving what we already know—you were never good enough. Not then, not now."

The lieutenant’s steps were measured, calculated, his saber tapping lightly against the ground as he closed the distance between them. His thin frame seemed almost too fragile for the battlefield, but there was an underlying sharpness in his movements, a predator’s focus that couldn’t be ignored.

"You were always the weak one," Heissman continued, his voice low but cutting. "Too frail to stand on your own. Too afraid to make the hard choices. And now you’re here, clinging to a bunch of misfits, pretending you’re something more."

Osalf’s gaze didn’t waver. "You’ve always measured strength the wrong way," he said quietly. "But it doesn’t matter. You’ll see soon enough."

The tension snapped as Heissman raised his saber, the polished blade catching the light as he pointed it toward Osalf. "Let’s finish this," he said, his smirk widening. "Let’s see if you’ve grown a spine."

Osalf didn’t respond. His stance shifted slightly, his blade steady in his hand as Xuán Wěi’s wraiths began to circle behind him. Cade moved into position, his hands glowing faintly as energy coiled around his fingers. Heissman’s eyes flicked to the others, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning in full force.

"Coward," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "Still hiding behind others."

Heissman moved with precision, his strikes sharp and deliberate as he engaged Osalf. Each swing of his saber was aimed to exploit weaknesses, forcing Osalf to step back and parry. The clash of blades rang out across the arena, the sound sharp and piercing as the two circled each other. Heissman pressed forward, his blade a blur as he launched a series of rapid slashes, each one narrowly deflected by Osalf’s steady hand. The lieutenant’s movements were calculated, but there was a growing intensity to his strikes, a heat that betrayed his growing frustration.

"You’ve gotten slower," Heissman hissed, his voice dripping with scorn as he feinted left before slicing upward. Osalf twisted his blade, deflecting the strike with a sharp clang. "Same old Osalf—always on the defensive. You call this strength?"

Osalf didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on Heissman’s, his blade moving with quiet precision to block and redirect each attack. He knew Heissman’s rhythm, the patterns of his movements, and the cracks in his form. It was only a matter of time before the lieutenant made a mistake.

Heissman lunged, his saber flashing as he aimed for Osalf’s chest. The Black Bull leader sidestepped, his blade sweeping down to intercept. Heissman spun with the momentum, his strikes coming faster now, but there was a wildness to them, a lack of control that Osalf couldn’t ignore. The lieutenant’s breathing grew heavier, his movements sharper but less precise.

"You’re not even trying!" Heissman snarled, his saber slamming against Osalf’s blade with enough force to send sparks flying. He pushed harder, their weapons locked together as he leaned in close. "What’s the matter, Osalf? Afraid to fight back?"

Osalf held his ground, his voice calm but firm. "I don’t need to fight back. You’re doing all the work for me."

Heissman’s eyes burned with anger as he shoved Osalf back, his saber flaring with energy as he slashed downward. Osalf sidestepped again, his blade deflecting the strike and forcing Heissman to overextend. The lieutenant stumbled slightly, his footing faltering for a brief moment before he recovered.