From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals

"Rosana, welcome. You've captured the hearts of many with your tenacity and unyielding spirit. Tell us, what does it mean to you to have made it this far in the Arena of Life?"

Rosana tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching beneath her hood. "It means survival," she said bluntly, her voice carrying a sharp edge. "Every fight, every step forward, is one more chance to make a difference for the people I care about. That's all that matters to me."

Ya-Mi nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You've spoken before about your family and your tribe. How much of your journey here is for them?"

Rosana's red eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her guarded demeanor. "All of it," she admitted. "The Beast Tribes have always been seen as less, as something to control or pity. My family's paid the price for that ignorance. My father… he's still trapped in a system that doesn't see him as anything more than a beast. If being here means I can change that, even a little, then it's worth every drop of blood."

The audience murmured, moved by her honesty. Ya-Mi's tone softened as she continued. "That's an incredible burden to carry. Yet, you've shown remarkable strength. Tell us, Rosana, what fuels that fire?"

Rosana's lips quirked into a small, almost defiant smile. "It's not just anger, if that's what you're asking," she said, a hint of humor lacing her words. "It's hope. Hope that things can change. Hope that my tribe, my family, can have a future where we're more than what people think we are." She hesitated, then added softly, "And maybe it's the people I've met here, too. Some of them remind me that not everyone sees us as 'less.'"

Ya-Mi's eyes sparkled, sensing an opportunity. "'The people you've met here…' Are you referring to anyone in particular? Perhaps Ty, the so-called demon?"

Rosana's cheeks flushed slightly, and her ears twitched under her hood. She straightened, her voice sharpening. "Ty's complicated," she said firmly. "He's reckless and stubborn, but he's also… he's trying. More than I can say for most people. He's done things I don't agree with, but he's also shown me that there's more to him than what people see."

"Interesting," Ya-Mi said, her smile widening. "Would you say he's earned your trust?"

Rosana's gaze hardened slightly. "Trust isn't given freely," she replied. "But he's closer than most."

The audience chuckled, charmed by her honesty. Ya-Mi leaned back, folding her hands. "Final question, Rosana. If you win the Arena of Life, what will you wish for?"

Rosana's eyes grew distant, her voice quieter but no less determined. "Freedom," she said simply. "For my father, my tribe, and for every beast who's been chained by ignorance. That's all I want."

The room fell silent for a beat before the audience erupted into applause. Rosana stood, giving a slight bow before turning to leave the stage. As she passed Ya-Mi, the host called out warmly, "A fierce competitor with a heart as fiery as her spirit. Ladies and gentlemen, Rosana!"

As Rosana exited the stage, her red eyes filled with worry and resolve, Fernando stepped forward, his entrance accompanied by a hushed murmur from the audience. The contrast between the fiery determination of Rosana and the cold, chaotic energy Fernando exuded was palpable. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp features were illuminated by the glowing sparks of electricity dancing along his remaining hand. Where his other hand should have been, a jagged surge of lightning flickered, giving him an otherworldly, dangerous aura. He moved with the casual grace of a predator, his smirk laced with mockery as he approached the chair opposite Ya-Mi.

Ya-Mi Goldire, ever the professional, held her composure despite the tension Fernando brought into the room. She gestured for him to sit, her golden gown shimmering under the lights as she leaned slightly forward. Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire

"Fernando," she began, her voice calm but with an undertone of curiosity. "You've been one of the most controversial figures in the Arena of Life. A poet, a killer, and now, a finalist. What drives someone like you to compete?"

Fernando's smirk widened as he settled into his chair, leaning back with a calculated nonchalance. "What drives me?" he repeated, his voice smooth yet charged with an edge. "Survival. Revenge. The thrill of watching people squirm under pressure. Take your pick, Ya-Mi."

The audience stirred uneasily, the tension in the air thickening. Ya-Mi, undeterred, pressed on. "Survival and revenge… those are powerful motivators. Tell us, Fernando, how do you reconcile your past as a poet with your present as a… let's say, more destructive force?"

Fernando let out a low chuckle, the sound almost sinister. "Ah, the poet," he mused. "Funny thing about words… they only take you so far. There's a beauty in destruction that no poem can capture. When you've had everything ripped away from you, you stop seeing the world in verse and start seeing it in blood and fire. It's more honest that way."

Ya-Mi's expression didn't waver, though her hands folded a bit tighter in her lap. "That's a… unique perspective. But many would argue that your actions go beyond mere survival. The Black Bulls' recent attack has raised questions about your role in the chaos. Do you see yourself as a disruptor?"

Fernando tilted his head, sparks of lightning playing across his fingers. "Disruptor? That's a pretty word for it," he said. "Let's just say I'm the kingdom's reckoning. People love their heroes, but they forget that heroes only rise when there's someone like me to challenge them. So yeah, if you want to call me a disruptor, go ahead. I'll wear it with pride."

The room's atmosphere grew heavier, the audience visibly uneasy. Ya-Mi's professionalism remained intact, but her eyes flickered with intrigue. "You've been open about your grievances against the kingdom, but what about your competitors? Ty, for example. You've crossed paths with him before. What are your thoughts on him now?"

Fernando's smirk faltered briefly, replaced by a glint of anger in his eyes. "Ty," he said, almost spitting the name. "The so-called demon. He got lucky once, but luck doesn't last forever. He's reckless, arrogant, and in way over his head. I'll give him this, though—he's got guts. Too bad he's not smart enough to use them properly."

The hostility in his tone was unmistakable, and the audience's murmurs grew louder. Ya-Mi seized the opportunity to delve deeper. "You speak of luck and guts, but what about your own resilience? You've endured so much—even losing your hand. Does that loss define you, or does it fuel you?"

Fernando's lightning hand crackled more intensely, his expression hardening. "Define me? Nothing defines me," he said sharply. "Losing my hand wasn't a setback. It was a reminder. A reminder that this world takes and takes, and if you want to survive, you've got to take back. My hand…" He flexed his lightning-clad fingers. "It's not gone. It's evolved. Just like me."

Ya-Mi nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "A powerful sentiment. Fernando, you've spoken of survival, revenge, and the thrill of chaos. But if you were to win the Arena of Life, what would you wish for?"

For the first time, Fernando's smirk faded entirely. His expression grew darker, his voice quieter but filled with venom. "I'd wish for the power to rewrite everything," he said. "The kingdom, the rules, the lies they tell to keep us in chains. I'd burn it all down and build something real. Something honest."

The silence that followed was deafening. Ya-Mi's composed demeanor faltered slightly as she processed his words. She cleared her throat, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "A chilling vision for the future, Fernando. Thank you for sharing your thoughts."

Fernando stood, his lightning hand sparking ominously. He turned to the audience, his smirk returning. "Enjoy the show," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. With that, he strode off the stage, his presence leaving a lingering unease in the air.

As Fernando exited the stage, his lightning-infused presence leaving an electric tension behind, John entered with a casual yet guarded demeanor. His short red hair caught the soft lights of the set, and his golden bracelets glinted faintly as they shifted with his movements. His steps were measured, his gaze scanning the room as though assessing every potential escape route. Unlike Fernando's confident swagger, John's presence was subtler, but no less impactful.