"Kyle Dandada is my opponent? …Come on, Al, I need to think this through."
Aldrich paced, his mind racing. Was he a reincarnator or a transmigrator? The distinction hardly mattered now. Aldrich belonged to one of those categories, and the only thing that mattered was how he could use that to his advantage. If he was to survive this, he needed to rely on what he knew, if anything useful remained.
Yet, the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: knowledge alone wouldn't save him. The advantage of foresight was worthless in a world where strength was built from within, dependent on one's natural skills and raw talent. There were no golden fingers, no lucky cheats. Not really. The few that existed were either already claimed or came with conditions he was in no position to meet, not in his current state, not while stranded in a place like this.
He clenched his fists.
He was on his own. Maybe not entirely, but it certainly felt that way.
