From Human to Skeleton: Revived with Infinite System Crystals-Chapter 582: Alexander’s Cunning

Fernando nodded, tossing the compass lightly in his hand before passing it back to Ty. "That’s what I’d bet on. Follow the glow, and you’ll know exactly where they’re coming. Or, you know, you could always just stay here and hope for the best."

Ty clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to the softly glowing compass. The idea made sense, even if Fernando’s delivery grated on him. He looked back at the map, tracing the potential routes with his finger. "If we follow this, we’ll be right in their path," he said slowly. "But we’ll also know exactly where they’re going to be."

John, who had been watching silently, nodded. "If we’re ready for them, we could turn this around. Use their own plan against them."

The sound of movement caught their attention, and Yagrid stepped forward, his expression unreadable. His gaze met Ty’s, and for a moment, the tension between them was palpable. "

Yagrid crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So, we’re going right into the middle of it, huh?" His voice was calm, almost detached. "Typical of you, Ty. Always looking for the fastest way to get yourself killed."

Ty met Yagrid’s gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And you’re always looking for the safest way to avoid a fight. But here we are, together again."

Yagrid snorted, shaking his head. "Guess we’re both gluttons for punishment." He glanced at the map, then at the compass. "Look, whatever issues we had back in that cell, they don’t matter now. We’ve got a fight coming, and we need to be ready. If that compass is leading us to where they’re going to strike, then we use it. We hit them before they even know we’re there."

Fernando rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall again. "Oh, great. A motivational speech. Just what we needed."

Rosana shot Fernando another glare before turning her attention back to Ty. "So, what’s the plan?"

Ty took a deep breath, the weight of the responsibility pressing on him. He looked at the map, then at the compass, the soft blue glow steady and constant. "We follow the compass. We get into position before they make their move, and we turn their ambush into our advantage."

He looked at each of them in turn—Rosana, John, Yagrid, Fernando. "We’ve got about twenty-five minutes now. Let’s get everything ready. We move as soon as we’re set."

The room fell into a focused silence as they began their preparations, each of them taking their role seriously. Ty could feel the tension in the air, the urgency of what they were about to face. But there was also a sense of unity—a shared purpose that bound them together, despite their differences.

Yagrid moved closer to Ty, his voice dropping so only Ty could hear. "Just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I want out of this place alive."

Ty nodded, meeting Yagrid’s gaze. "Fair enough. But if we’re going to make it out, we need to work together."

Yagrid held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded curtly. "Just don’t get in my way."

- Meanwhile -

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As Ty and his team began their preparations, the atmosphere was filled with tension, every second ticking by like a countdown to a reckoning.

Across the field, in a quieter corner of the contested grounds, Alexander stood, observing the movements on the map projected in front of him. His cold, blue eyes scanned the routes, the faint glimmer of the orange armband on his arm catching the dim light. He exhaled slowly, his breath steady, the calm at the center of the storm that was soon to come.

Alexander stood at the center of a large tent set up in their temporary base. The air was cool, with a faint breeze rustling the sides of the structure, carrying with it the muted sounds of distant skirmishes. He leaned over a tactical map spread across a table, his fingers tracing potential routes. Around him, several members of the Orange Team watched, waiting in silence.

The Golden Phoenix embroidered on the back of Alexander’s jacket caught the dim lantern light, reflecting off the polished metal gloves on his hands. He was a picture of composure—his eyes cold and calculating as they moved over the details, his mind already two steps ahead.

"Thirty minutes," Alexander said, his voice carrying through the quiet space, calm and commanding. "The scouts will find their positions soon. We’ll need to close in immediately. We can’t afford to let them regroup." He turned his head slightly, addressing the man to his left—Marcus, one of the squad leaders, broad-shouldered with a scar running across his cheek. "Take your group through the west side. Create a perimeter. Cut off any escape route they might take."

Marcus nodded, no questions asked. He knew exactly why he never second-guessed Alexander—because Alexander had saved his life, more than once, when it really counted.

The first time was six months ago. Marcus had been bleeding out, his side ripped open by a shrapnel blast, and the rest of the squad had already fallen back, assuming he was a goner. It had been a reconnaissance mission turned ambush—a simple in-and-out turned into a chaotic nightmare. The enemy had been waiting for them, and Marcus was pinned down, his vision blurring from blood loss. He remembered the cold panic that gripped him, the realization that he was about to die, alone, with no one coming to save him.

But Alexander had come back.

Marcus could still see it as clear as day—Alexander’s silhouette moving through the smoke, calm and unflinching, cutting through the chaos like it was nothing. He had picked Marcus up, thrown him over his shoulder, and carried him out of there while fending off attackers. Alexander hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t shown fear. He had simply done what needed to be done. Marcus had heard the bullets whizzing past them, felt the impact of one slamming into Alexander’s shoulder, but he had kept moving, kept pushing until they were both clear.