From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

The voice crackled through the air, cold and mechanical. "Kill confirmed. Credits transferred to sponsors of Kern Wishmaker. 45,000 credits for elimination."

Another drone whizzed past Rosana, its bright red eye locking onto her as it delivered the same message. "Kill confirmed. Credits transferred to sponsors of Rosana Fiona. 32,000 credits for elimination."

Ty watched as more drones descended, each relaying the credits accumulated by the kills. It felt grotesque, like vultures picking at the bones of the fallen, but instead of scavenging, they were handing out prizes. He sighed as one of the drones approached him, its cold voice cutting through the tension.

"Kill confirmed. Credits transferred to sponsors of Ty Hockenson. 50,000 credits for elimination."

Ty clenched his fists, not out of pride or satisfaction, but out of disgust. His kills were being turned into entertainment, and the twisted nature of it all gnawed at him. The crowd watching, the credits flowing to the sponsors—this wasn't survival. It was blood money. Yet, in this arena, it was all part of the game.

John glanced at Ty, noticing his discomfort. "It's not gonna get easier, you know. The money, the kills... it's what they want. And we need it if we're going to survive."

Ty shook his head. "Survive? Is that what you think we're doing here? This isn't survival—it's slaughter. And they're paying us for it."

John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. But we don't have the luxury of debating ethics right now. We need to find a place to bunker down before someone else stumbles on us."

Ty couldn't argue with that. His mind was still reeling from Blue's revelation about his skeleton, but there was no time to process it now. They had to move.

"Let's go," Ty said, his voice low and resolute. "There's bound to be a place we can hold up. This whole arena's built around vacated homes and villages. We find one, we make it ours for the night."

The squad moved quietly through the open field, the grass swaying around them as the wind picked up. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. In the distance, they could see the outlines of houses—small, abandoned homes that had been left behind by the citizens evacuated for the Arena.

Rosana's nose twitched as she sniffed the air. "There's no one close by. We're clear, at least for now."

Gisorn walked in silence, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. He hadn't spoken much since the fight, his usual cold demeanor even more withdrawn.

Ty led the way, his mind still spinning. Blue's words echoed in his thoughts: They know about your original body. He could feel the creature inside him stirring, its dark presence a constant reminder that he wasn't just fighting for survival—he was fighting something much bigger than the Arena.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of a small village. The houses were old, their wooden walls weathered by time and the elements. Broken windows and crumbling rooftops hinted at years of neglect, but it would serve as a decent enough place to rest.

Ty nodded toward one of the larger homes at the edge of the village. "That one looks stable enough. We'll take it."

The group moved toward the house, slipping inside through the front door, which hung slightly ajar. The interior was dusty, with faded furniture scattered across the floor. The smell of mildew clung to the air, but it was shelter. For now, it would do.

Rosana set her pack down near the door, stretching her arms as she looked around. "I'll keep watch outside. My ears can pick up anything before it gets too close."

John nodded, settling down in one of the old chairs that creaked under his weight. "Good. We'll need at least one of us keeping watch at all times. If someone stumbles on us now, we're done."

Ty found a spot near the window, staring out at the fading light. His mind was a storm of thoughts, swirling around the revelation about his body, the creature inside him, and the growing darkness that gnawed at his soul.

"Ty," Kern's voice broke through the silence. "What's going on with you, man? You're acting weird."

Ty glanced at Kern, who was sharpening one of his scimitars with a small whetstone. The familiar sound of metal scraping against stone was oddly comforting, even as the blade gleamed dangerously in the dim light.

"I'm fine," Ty muttered, though he knew it was a lie. He wasn't fine. None of this was fine.

Kern raised an eyebrow. "Fine? You don't look fine. You've been off ever since that fairy of yours showed up. Something you're not telling us?"

Ty hesitated. He hadn't told anyone about what Blue had revealed—about his original body, about the mysterious forces that seemed to be watching him. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, but he wasn't sure how to explain it. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he fully understood it himself.

"I'm just… thinking," Ty said finally, his voice quiet.

Kern snorted. "Thinking? Don't hurt yourself, man. We need you sharp." Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

Ty gave a half-smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll be sharp when it counts."

Rosana poked her head through the doorway, her eyes scanning the room. "I'll take the first watch. You all should get some rest while you can. I'll wake someone up in a few hours to take over."

Ty nodded, grateful for the moment of peace. He moved to a corner of the room, sitting down against the wall and closing his eyes. His body ached from the fight, but it wasn't the physical pain that bothered him—it was the weight of everything else. The creature inside him, the knowledge of his skeleton body, the sense that he was being watched by forces far beyond his control.

The room fell into a quiet lull, the only sounds the soft creaks of the old house and the faint rustling of the wind outside. Kern continued to sharpen his blades, the rhythmic scraping filling the silence. John was already half-asleep in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

Gisorn, ever the silent observer, stood near the doorway, his eyes trained on the window as if waiting for something—anything.