Yagrid chuckled, scratching the gray stubble on his chin. "Storied, huh? Fancy word for old and stubborn. Let's get to it, then."
The audience laughed, chard by his easy deanor.
Ya-Mi began, her tone light but probing. "Yagrid, you've survived the Arena of Life so far, but many wonder—what's your secret?"
Yagrid leaned back, his grin widening. "Secret? Ain't much of one. I keep moving, keep swinging, and don't stop to think about how many ways I can die. Thinking too much in a place like this'll kill you faster than a blade."
The crowd chuckled, though so faces held unease. Ya-Mi seized on the mont, her expression sharpening. "But surely there's more to it than that. I hear you've made so enemies in high places. Care to share the story behind that missing eye?"
Yagrid's grin faded slightly, replaced by a shadow of sothing darker. He tapped the empty socket, his gaze distant. "Ah, this? Let's just say the Heian Kingdom didn't take kindly to defying orders. They wanted to kill a woman—a maid who hadn't done a damn thing wrong. I refused."
Ya-Mi's expression softened, but Yagrid wasn't finished. "The general who gave the order… well, I figured he needed a reminder that not everyone dances to their tune. So I took her hairpin and gave him a new eye socket to match mine."
The audience gasped, a ripple of whispers spreading through the room. Ya-Mi's composure wavered for a heartbeat before she regained it. "A bold move, Yagrid. And one that cost you dearly."
He shrugged, his grin returning, though smaller. "Worth it. So things are more important than keeping your head down."
Ya-Mi nodded, clearly impressed. "With that kind of defiance, it's no wonder you've survived this long. Let's shift gears a bit. What's your take on the Black Bulls and their recent attacks?"
Yagrid's grin twisted into sothing wry. "Oh, they're a crafty lot, no doubt about it. Can't say I agree with all their thods, but they've got guts. Takes a certain kind of crazy to take on the King and live to tell the tale."
"And Ty?" Ya-Mi asked, her tone laced with curiosity. "You've fought alongside him. What's your impression of the so-called demon boy?"
Yagrid scratched his chin, his expression thoughtful. "Ty's… complicated. He's got more fire in him than most, but he's carrying a weight I wouldn't wish on anyone. Kid's got a long road ahead, and I don't envy him."
Ya-Mi leaned in, her voice softening. "And what about you, Yagrid? You've faced impossible odds, survived more than most. If you win this, what's your wish?"
For the first ti, Yagrid's grin faltered. He leaned back, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "A wish, huh? That's the big question, isn't it? Truth is, I'm still figuring that out. Maybe I'd wish for a place where folks like can just… be. No chains, no bloodshed, just peace." Read exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire
Ya-Mi's voice was gentle. "And if not that?"
Yagrid's good eye glinted with a rare seriousness. "Then maybe I'd wish for a chance to go back. Not to fix things, but to face them with the man I used to be. Settle a few debts the right way."
The room fell quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. Ya-Mi cleared her throat, steering the interview back on track. "Last question, Yagrid. If you could say one thing to the viewers watching you right now, what would it be?"
Yagrid's grin returned, though it carried a hint of lancholy. "Enjoy the show, folks. And rember, even the oldest dog's got a few tricks left."
As he rose to leave, the audience erupted into applause. Yagrid gave a mock bow, his playful grin firmly in place, before striding off, his boots echoing with each step.
Marcus stepped into the spotlight, his boots hitting the marble floor with a solid thud. The room seed to shrink under his towering presence. Dressed in scuffed and battle-worn leather armor, his broad shoulders carried an air of unshakable confidence. A faint scar traced from his cheekbone to his jawline, a jagged reminder of countless battles fought. The audience murmured in anticipation, their interest piqued by the brute of a man who had earned his reputation as a fearso warrior.
Ya-Mi greeted him with a warm smile, though her posture stiffened under his intense gaze. "Marcus, thank you for joining us," she said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "It's not often we get to speak with soone so close to Alexander the Mighty."
Marcus chuckled as he sat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. "Close? That's one way to put it. Let's just say I owe the man my life… more than once."
The audience leaned in, intrigued by his candid tone.
"Tell us about that," Ya-Mi said. "Alexander's na carries weight in this tournant, but so does yours. How did that bond form?"
Marcus's expression softened, his dark brown eyes reflecting a rare vulnerability. "First ti I t Alex, I was bleeding out on a battlefield. Stupid decision, thought I could take on a whole squad by myself. Next thing I know, this guy—half my size back then—pulls out, patches up, and tells to stop being an idiot."
The crowd laughed, and Ya-Mi smiled. "And that was enough to earn your loyalty?"
"Not just loyalty," Marcus corrected. "Respect. Alex doesn't just lead; he's in the thick of it. He fights for sothing bigger than himself. That's rare these days."
Ya-Mi nodded, her tone turning curious. "You're known for your strength and unique abilities. Can you share a bit about your Inward Skill, Vibrational Augnt?"
Marcus leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. "It's like tuning an instrunt… if the instrunt could smash through walls. I adjust my body's resonance, amplifying strength and speed. Makes faster than most, stronger than all. And then there's Mirage Pulse."
"Ah, the skill that confuses your enemies," Ya-Mi said, leaning in. "How does it work?"
"Simple," Marcus said. "I use vibrations to create illusions—a whole damn army if I need to. Enemies don't know what's real until it's too late."
"Impressive," Ya-Mi said. "And yet, you've faced your fair share of challenges in this tournant. What's been the hardest mont so far?"
Marcus's grin faded slightly. "Hardest mont? Watching good people fall. This arena… it chews you up and spits you out. Doesn't care how strong or smart you are. I've seen teammates… friends… go down fighting, knowing there's no second chance."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over the audience. Ya-Mi hesitated before asking, "And if you win? What would you wish for?"
Marcus's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he considered the question. "I'd wish for… ti. Ti to go back, fix things I've done wrong. Ti to save the ones I couldn't. But I know that's not how wishes work."
"Then what?" Ya-Mi prompted gently.
He exhaled, his voice softer now. "I'd wish for Alexander to get his. Whatever he's fighting for, whatever keeps him going… I'd wish for him to see it through. Because if anyone deserves it, it's him."
The audience erupted into applause, their admiration for Marcus evident. Ya-Mi smiled, her own respect for the man clear in her eyes. "Marcus, thank you for sharing your story. You're a warrior through and through."
Marcus stood, offering her a nod. "Thanks for having . And hey… enjoy the show. Might get ssy."
He turned and walked off, his heavy steps echoing as he left the stage. The audience's applause followed him, a testant to the man who fought not for himself, but for the comrades he held dear.
Ya-Mi adjusted her posture, her bright smile widening as the door opened. "Next, we welco Wei… Wei, do you have a last na to share with us?"
Wei stepped into the room with a quiet confidence, his movents asured and precise. He was lean, dressed in understated dark gray attire that seed to blend into the surroundings, his every step soft and deliberate. His dark hair was cropped short, and his sharp features gave him an air of quiet authority.
"Just Wei," he replied, his voice calm, almost monotone. "Anything more is unnecessary."
Ya-Mi chuckled lightly, though Wei's serious deanor didn't waver. "Well, Wei it is. Please, take a seat."
He lowered himself into the chair, his posture impeccable, his hands resting lightly on the armrests. The contrast between his stillness and the vibrancy of the room was striking.
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