From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

Kern stood, offering a quick salute to the audience before striding off the stage. His confidence was still there, but now it carried a depth that hadn't been there before. The crowd's applause followed him as he disappeared and Aldric entered after. Discover stories with My Virtual Library Empire

Aldric entered the room with a calm, calculated air, his meticulously styled blond hair catching the light as he stepped into view. His noble attire, pristine and sharply tailored, set him apart from the rugged contestants who had come before him. As he took his seat, his gaze swept over the room, assessing every detail with an almost predatory sharpness.

The host smiled warmly, though her tone carried a slight edge of curiosity. "Aldric, a pleasure to have you here. You've certainly been making waves in the Arena of Life. Tell us, what drives a noble like yourself to participate in such a brutal competition?"

Aldric's lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. "The Arena of Life is not merely a competition of brute strength," he began, his voice measured and confident. "It is a stage upon which the most capable individuals prove their worth. For me, it is not about survival but excellence. A noble's duty is to exemplify the pinnacle of skill, discipline, and strategy."

The host nodded, clearly intrigued. "Excellence, you say. And yet, the Arena tests not only strategy but also sheer resilience. How have you found the balance?"

"Resilience is a matter of preparation," Aldric replied smoothly. "I have been trained since childhood to endure and overcome. Whether through combat drills or mental exercises, I have honed myself to face any challenge. To falter is to bring dishonor, not only to oneself but to one's lineage."

The host's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Fascinating. Speaking of lineage, your noble heritage must come with its own expectations. How has that influenced your strategy in the Arena?"

Aldric's expression hardened slightly. "Expectations are both a burden and a guide. They demand perfection, and perfection requires clarity of purpose. In the Arena, my strategy has always been to outthink my opponents. Strength is fleeting; intellect endures. I analyze, adapt, and execute. That is the essence of nobility."

The host leaned forward slightly. "And what about the other contestants? Do you see them as mere obstacles or potential allies?"

Aldric's smile returned, though it carried a hint of cool detachment. "Each contestant is a variable. Some are obstacles, others tools. It depends on their utility. Trust is a rare commodity in the Arena, and alliances are forged only when mutually beneficial. But make no mistake—I am here to win. Sentimentality has no place in victory."

The host paused, letting his words settle before asking her next question. "You've been noted for your composure, even in the most chaotic moments. Is there anything that unnerves you?"

For the first time, a shadow of emotion flickered across Aldric's face, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Chaos is the enemy of order," he said, his tone colder now. "What unnerves me is not the danger itself but the lack of control. I thrive in environments where precision and discipline prevail. The Arena, at times, descends into unpredictability. That is… aggravating."

The host raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this glimpse of vulnerability. "And if you were to win, what would you wish for?"

Aldric's gaze sharpened, his voice steady but laced with an edge of ambition. "I would wish for the restoration of true order. The kingdom is fractured, riddled with corruption and chaos. A leader must rise who embodies strength and wisdom, one who can unify and elevate. My wish would ensure that leader is me."

The host sat back, clearly impressed. "A bold vision. Aldric, thank you for sharing your insights. Any final words for those watching?"

He inclined his head slightly, his smile returning to its polished form. "To those who doubt, I offer only this: doubt is the seed of failure. Confidence, discipline, and clarity—these are the virtues that will triumph. Remember that as you watch."

As Aldric walked off, his measured steps echoing faintly, Jui-Lao entered the room with an unmistakable presence. His broad frame seemed to fill the space, and the rich crimson of his robes, accented with gold embroidery, caught the light. His dark hair, tipped with blue, added a striking contrast to his stern demeanor. Jui-Lao exuded the confidence of someone who had tasted victory countless times, his intense gaze immediately capturing the attention of everyone present.

He moved to the center of the room, the subtle tremor of his steps hinting at his sheer weight and power. Settling into the chair, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs. His large hands, calloused and scarred, were a testament to his years of battle.

Ya-Mi, the host of the interviews, gave him a polite smile, her professional demeanor unwavering. "Welcome, Jui-Lao. It's an honor to have you here."

"The honor is yours," he replied, his tone deep and resonant. Though there was a hint of arrogance in his words, it was delivered with the confidence of a man who had earned his place.

Ya-Mi chuckled softly, brushing off the comment. "Let's begin. Jui-Lao, you're known for your incredible strength and heritage as part of the Titanis race. How do you think that's influenced your performance in the Arena of Life?"

He straightened, his chest puffing out slightly. "The blood of the Titanis flows through my veins, granting me strength few can comprehend. It is not just my heritage, but my discipline, that makes me formidable. I've trained relentlessly to honor my ancestors and surpass their legacy."

"Your confidence is well-placed," Ya-Mi remarked. "But some might say it borders on overconfidence. Have you faced any opponents who made you question your abilities?"

For a moment, Jui-Lao's expression darkened. He glanced away, his jaw tightening. "Ty," he admitted after a pause. "I underestimated him. He is a thorn that refuses to be plucked, but I've learned from that mistake. The next time we face each other, there will be no doubt about the outcome."

Ya-Mi nodded, intrigued. "Speaking of Ty, what do you think of the rumors surrounding him being linked to the demon Vishu?"

Jui-Lao's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Rumors are for the weak-minded. What matters is what happens in the arena. Ty's strength is his own, demon or not. But if he does harbor such a power, it will make defeating him all the more satisfying."

"Interesting perspective," Ya-Mi said, jotting down a note. "Let's shift gears. If you win the Arena of Life, what would you wish for?"

The room fell silent for a moment as Jui-Lao's expression turned thoughtful. "I would wish for my people's resurgence," he said finally. "The Titanis are scattered, their greatness forgotten by many. I would restore our honor, unify our kind, and ensure that the world never forgets the strength of the Titanis."

Ya-Mi's eyes softened. "A noble goal. Is it fair to say you feel a deep responsibility to your lineage?"

He nodded firmly. "Every punch I throw, every step I take, is in their name. I will not fail them."

"Final question," Ya-Mi said, leaning forward slightly. "What do you want the world to know about you?"

Jui-Lao's smirk returned, his confidence radiating once more. "That I am the strongest. And that strength isn't given; it's earned. Let the world remember my name not as a participant, but as a champion."

Ya-Mi smiled warmly. "Thank you, Jui-Lao. Your dedication and vision are inspiring."

As he stood to leave, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room, Jui-Lao turned back for a brief moment. "Inspiration is fleeting. Victory is eternal."

With that, he strode out, his crimson robes billowing slightly with each step. The room seemed to exhale as he exited, the weight of his presence lingering behind.

As Yagrid walked into the room, the sharp clack of his boots echoed against the marble floor. The crowd's murmurs quieted, replaced by scattered applause. He gave a nonchalant wave, his one good eye scanning the room with practiced ease. His worn armor bore the scars of countless battles, and his weathered face carried an air of defiance and resilience.

Ya-Mi, perched gracefully on her chair, leaned forward with an inviting smile. "Welcome, Yagrid. It's not every day we get to sit with someone as… storied as you."

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These are a cherished time.