《Fragments of Corruption》


 Demon.

    "If you give up on Boundless Soul Fragment,then we will consider to spare your life"


    "You evil cultist, you cannot escape from this place we have people everywhere in the mountain. We won''t even spare your dead body if you don''t submit to us."


    "Ryne you evil bastard, you killed my family and burnt down my house even annihilate our entire clan just for Crimson Fragment."


    .


    .


    .


    Ryne who was wearing dark blue clothes, which was shredded to pieces was smiling after hearing the endless rambling of his pursuers, he was getting annoyed as their rambling became more and more noisier


    Ryne wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes gleaming with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. The tattered remains of his cloak fluttered in the wind, revealing deep wounds crisscrossing his body. Despite the pain, he stood tall, refusing to show weakness before the group that surrounded him.


    "Do you really think words will change anything?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low but carrying through the thin air. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he surveyed the group surrounding him¡ªmercenaries, cultists, and survivors of the clans he had decimated.


    "Enough talk," one of the men spat, stepping forward with his sword drawn. "Hand over the Boundless Soul Fragment, or we''ll cut you down right here."


    Ryne chuckled softly, he then raised his left arm a fain blue energy sparkles from his finger tips.


    "You seem to misunderstand something," Ryne said, his tone chilling. "You think you have me cornered, but it''s¡ª" before he could complete the sentence an arrow pierced and sliced of his fingers.


    Ryne''s eyes widened in shock as pain shot up his arm, the severed fingers falling to the ground in slow motion. Blood splattered against the frozen earth. For a brief moment, the smirk that had lingered on his face faltered.


    The archer, hidden within the cliffs above, had struck with precision. His pursuers, emboldened by the attack, exchanged quick glances before advancing.


    "Looks like you''re not invincible after all, Ryne!" the man with the sword sneered. "You''re outnumbered and now outmatched."


    Ryne clenched his jaw, he was finally at his wits end then a man with long white beard came forward and started to list out the heinous crimes he committed.


    Ryne''s expression darkened as the old man with the long white beard stepped forward, his voice quaking with fury. "You''re a monster, Ryne! You slaughtered our families, burned our homes, and destroyed everything we held dear¡ªall in pursuit of your twisted ambition for power!"


    The words hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Ryne could feel the weight of their collective anger bearing down on him, the memories of his past actions flickering in his mind. But there was no remorse in him, only a simmering rage.


    "Your crimes won''t go unpunished!" the old man continued, shaking with indignation. "We''re here to end your tyranny once and for all! You will pay for what you''ve done!"


    "Crimes?" Ryne scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You speak of crimes as if you haven''t committed any yourself. Every one of you stands here, blood on your hands. You think you''re the heroes in this story, but you''re just as guilty. You''ve let your families suffer for your failures, and now you come for me out of desperation."


    The old man''s face twisted in anger, but Ryne''s cold gaze cut through his indignation. He could see the flicker of doubt in the eyes of some of the mercenaries around him. They were beginning to question whether this confrontation was worth it.


    "Enough!" the sword-wielding man shouted, trying to rally his group. "We can''t let him get in our heads. He''s just trying to sow discord! Did you forgot that this demon consumed the flesh of our loved ones in order to forge the purification orb? "


    Ryne felt a surge of irritation at the man''s words. "You still cling to these tales, thinking they''ll make you righteous? I didn''t consume anyone''s flesh; I merely harnessed what was necessary to gain power in a world that thrives on weakness."


    The mercenaries shifted uneasily, their resolve wavering under the weight of Ryne''s words and the visible scars of his actions. He could see them grappling with the truth buried in their memories¡ªthe times they had ignored the suffering of others to pursue their own ambitions.


    "Look around you!" Ryne continued, his voice rising with fervor. "You think you''re here to deliver justice? You''re just a group of frightened souls, desperately clinging to the idea that by taking me down, you can atone for your own failures. But all you will find here is your end."


    The old man, shaking with rage, stepped forward defiantly. "We have lost everything because of you! Your hunger for power has taken so much from us, and we will not allow you to escape justice again!"


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    "Justice?" Ryne laughed bitterly. "What justice do you speak of? The kind that allows the guilty to hide behind their anguish while trying to take me down? You''re no better than the monsters you claim to hunt."


    His icy demeanor stoked the flames of their anger, but the doubt lingered. Ryne raised the Boundless Soul Fragment, its azure glow pulsating with energy. "You think your numbers give you strength? I''ll show you what true power looks like!"


    He released a surge of energy, the fragment radiating with a blinding light that engulfed the area. The mercenaries shielded their eyes, fear coursing through them as the ground trembled beneath Ryne''s fury.


    "Stop him!" the sword-wielding man yelled, trying to rally his comrades. But the moment was lost as Ryne unleashed a wave of ice and energy, freezing the ground and sending a shockwave that knocked several of them off their feet.


    Ryne seized the moment, stepping forward through the chaos. "You think you can overpower me with your anger and vengeance? Watch as your resolve shatters like gla¡ª" before he could complete the sentence his body started swell, he started to look like a bloated balloon, the energy from the Boundless Soul Fragment overwhelming him. A look of confusion crossed Ryne''s face as he staggered back, trying to contain the surge of power that was becoming unmanageable.


    "What''s happening?" he gasped, his voice strained. The intense blue glow from the fragment intensified, swirling around him like a tempest, almost as if it were trying to escape his grasp.


    "Focus, Ryne!" he shouted to himself, but the energy pulsated with a life of its own, refusing to be tamed. As he struggled, he could see the mercenaries recovering from the shockwave, their eyes widening in disbelief as they watched him swell in size.


    "Look! He''s losing control!" the old man shouted, a flicker of hope igniting in the eyes of the mercenaries. They began to rally, encouraged by Ryne''s apparent weakness.


    "I can''t let this happen!" Ryne growled, desperation creeping into his tone. He fought against the energy, attempting to channel it back into a focused attack, but the fragment seemed to react violently, threatening to explode.


    "Use the Azure shield fragment! He is going to explode" that Oldman shouted to his allies.


    The mercenaries glanced at each other, a mix of fear and determination flickering in their eyes. The old man continued to shout instructions, rallying the group. "Stay away from his and shield yourself from him using azure shield fragment."


    The mercenaries, understanding the urgency of the old man''s words, quickly scrambled to form a defensive formation. They retrieved the Azure Shield Fragments, shimmering with a calming blue light, and raised them high. "Concentrate!" the old man commanded, his voice cutting through the panic. "We must create a barrier strong enough to contain him!"


    As they focused, the shards began to resonate with each other, creating a harmonic hum that filled the air. Ryne, still struggling against the overwhelming energy, could feel the atmosphere shift around him. The mercenaries were gathering their strength, channeling their fear into a unified force.


    "Do it now!" the old man urged. The mercenaries aligned their Azure Shield Fragments, forming a circular barrier around Ryne. They began to chant, their voices weaving together in an incantation that seemed to echo through the mountains.


    Then slowly cracks started to form on Ryne''s body and the intense blue glow around him began to flicker erratically. With each chant, the mercenaries felt their resolve strengthen, pushing back against the chaotic energy emanating from Ryne.


    "Focus! Focus!" the old man shouted, his voice rising above the storm of energy. "We can contain him! We will not let him destroy us all!"


    "Focus! Focus!" the old man shouted, his voice rising above the storm of energy. "We can contain him! We will not let him destroy us all!"


    Ryne''s vision blurred as the energy threatened to consume him entirely. He felt the ground shift beneath him, his power slipping out of control. Panic surged within him, igniting a primal instinct to survive. "No! I won''t be caged!" he roared, attempting to break free from the encroaching pressure of the barrier.


    The mercenaries held their ground, their combined strength forming a shimmering wall of light. The air crackled with tension as Ryne''s cries of rage and fear reverberated against the mountains. "You think this will hold me? You think you can contain true power?" he spat, desperation fueling his defiance.


    But with every moment, the mercenaries felt the barrier tightening around him, their incantation resonating with an ancient magic. "We are not afraid of you!" one of the mercenaries yelled, pushing forward with conviction. "You will face the consequences of your actions, Ryne!"


    Then Ryne exploded, the aftermath of Ryne''s explosion was nothing short of devastation. The mountain air was thick with the acrid scent of scorched earth and molten rock. Where Ryne once stood, a large crater now smoldered, the ground charred black and twisted. Blood and fragments of flesh rained down on the surviving mercenaries.


    Some of the mercenaries, those closer to the blast, were not so fortunate. Bodies lay strewn about, lifeless or barely clinging to life, missing limbs or engulfed in flames. Cries of pain and shock pierced the air, mixing with the hiss of molten stone and the dull roar of the wind.


    The old man, his once-proud stance now bent with exhaustion and pain, stumbled forward. His left arm was gone, the sleeve of his robe charred and hanging limply at his side. Blood dripped steadily from the wound, but he barely seemed to notice, his eyes fixed on the site of Ryne''s final stand.


    "We¡­ did it," he gasped, though the victory tasted bitter in his mouth. His comrades had paid a heavy price, and the lives they had sought to avenge would never truly be brought back.


    A few of the mercenaries, those who survived with only minor injuries, gathered around him, their expressions a mix of disbelief and grief. One knelt beside the old man, attempting to staunch the bleeding from his arm with a torn piece of cloth.


    "Is¡­ is he really gone?" one of them asked, eyes wide with fear as they looked toward the crater, half-expecting Ryne to rise again from the ashes.


    The old man nodded weakly, though uncertainty gnawed at his heart. "He''s gone. But the price was heavy. Too heavy¡­" His voice trailed off as he looked around at the fallen, the once-bold warriors now reduced to broken shells.


    The Azure Shield Fragments, still glowing faintly, hummed as if to confirm the old man''s words. They had succeeded in containing Ryne''s volatile power, but at what cost? The fragments had absorbed much of the explosive energy, yet the sheer force of Ryne''s demise had been enough to shatter lives, both figuratively and literally.


    As the surviving mercenaries began to tend to the wounded, a solemn quiet fell over the battlefield. The realization slowly sank in¡ªthey had won, but it had taken everything. Ryne''s hunger for power had consumed him in the end, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.


    The old man gazed up at the sky, then rain started to pour down washing away the blood and tears, suddenly a lightning striked.


    .


    .


    .


    .


    "Where am I? What happened to the mercenaries and the Oldman Lou that were after me?"


    A young boy wearing light green tattered cloths waked up from his sleep while asking that to himself, he touched his own face only to find out the smooth skin of a young boy.


    "How...?" his voice trembled, barely a whisper. He splashed his face with the water from the bowl, half-expecting the image before him to dissolve, but it remained. The boy in the reflection was him.


    "This... can''t be real," he murmured, struggling to piece together what had happened. His last moments flashed in his mind again¡ªthe Boundless Soul Fragment''s uncontrollable power, the explosion that tore through the mountain, and then... nothing.


    He staggered to his feet, looking around the small, decrepit room. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, and old wooden beams creaked as the wind howled outside. It was a place he vaguely recognized but couldn''t quite place¡ªperhaps a memory from long ago, before he had ever sought the Boundless Soul Fragment, before he became the monster feared by many.


    "Am I... back in the past?" he asked himself again, this time louder, his voice trembling with a mixture of hope and dread.


    Suddenly, the door creaked open, and an old woman, hunched over with age, shuffled in. She wore simple, ragged clothes, and her sharp eyes immediately fixed on him.


    "You''re awake," she said, The old woman''s rough voice broke through the haze of confusion enveloping him. "You''re awake. Now go to your usual place and beg. If you don''t return with at least a bowl of rice, you''ll face consequences." She shoved him forward, her gaze sharp and unforgiving.


    He remembered her, she was the one who tortured him in his previous life. She was one of the people incharge of lower beggers sect.


    He clenched his fist tightly, "Just do as she say for now" he said to himself.

 Return

    The market buzzed with activity. Vendors shouted their wares, children darted between stalls, and the hum of conversation filled the air. Ryne sat hunched by the side of the road, his outstretched hand trembling slightly as he pretended to beg. His mind was far from the hunger gnawing at his stomach, or the chill that crept into his bones.


    He was thinking of the future¡ªthe future he had already lived.


    "I have to quickly escape from this hell hole," he thought, eyes scanning the crowd. His memories of this place were clear, the suffering etched into him from years spent groveling for scraps.


    But as he watched the people passing by, he extended his hand to them in hopes of gaining a coin or two. He had learned to perfect the art of begging, knowing when to look pitiful, when to lower his head, and when to flash a fleeting, desperate glance. The coins came slowly, but every one counted.


    "Not like it matters,"  he thought bitterly, rubbing his hand over the few copper coins he''d earned today. "I won¡¯t be here much longer."


    He had plans. This slum was only temporary, a stepping stone toward a larger goal.


    His eyes flicked to a group of guards patrolling nearby, their armor glinting in the late afternoon sun. His jaw tightened. "Avoid them,"  he reminded himself. The guards in this district were corrupt, always looking for someone to exploit. He¡¯d seen them drag away beggars before, never to be seen again.


    "I need to find a quiet place" Ryne thought, his gaze lingering on the guards as they passed. He put a dirty cloth on his face, masking his face further from their sight. "Soon. I just need to hold out a little longer." The familiar scent of roasted meats and baked bread wafted through the market, teasing his empty stomach, but he pushed the hunger aside. He had been through worse.


    Gathering the meager coins he''d collected, he slipped away from the bustling market, weaving through narrow alleys lined with crumbling brick and rotting wood. The streets here were a labyrinth, but Ryne knew them well.


    Finding a secluded corner behind an abandoned shop, Ryne sat in the shadowed corner, crossing his legs and settling into a meditation pose. His back pressed against the cold, crumbling wall as he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. He let the noises of the market fade into the background, trying to focus on sensing the flow of prana within him.


    But now, in this frail body, it was like trying to grasp smoke.


    "Was my old body this useless?" he thought bitterly, his hands clenching momentarily before he forced them to relax. His old self had been powerful¡ªinvincible, even¡ªat least until everything had been stripped away. Now, in this life, it felt like starting from scratch, trapped in a body that lacked the strength.


    His breathing slowed, and he reached inward, searching for even the faintest flicker of prana. For a long moment, there was nothing¡ªjust the dull ache of his stomach, the dirt caked on his skin, and the weariness that weighed down his limbs.


    "I need to build the semi-core quickly," he reminded himself, "that''s the only way I can start my journey once again."


    He remembered the process well¡ªyears of practice in his past life had drilled the steps into him, but this body¡­ it felt foreign, as if it resisted the flow of prana he sought to create. His breathing deepened as he channeled what little energy he could into his core. He envisioned it: a tiny spark, on his solar plexus. It wasn''t enough to form a semi-core but


    it was a start. That faint flicker of prana, though minuscule, gave Ryne a sliver of hope. It was the foundation upon which he would rebuild himself, no matter how fragile it seemed right now. He had done this once before, but this time, the stakes were different¡ªhigher.


    "It will grow," he told himself. "I just need time."


    He opened his eyes, breaking the meditative trance, and sighed in frustration. His stomach twisted with hunger, a reminder that his time was limited. Meditation wouldn''t feed him, and his body needed nourishment if he was going to survive long enough to fully rebuild his power.


    Ryne stood up, brushing off the dust from his ragged clothes. His eyes sharpened as he scanned the alleyway. He couldn¡¯t afford to draw attention to himself yet, not with his strength so depleted, but he also couldn¡¯t afford to starve.


    He slipped back into the bustling streets, his mind already formulating a plan. If he couldn''t rely on his strength yet, he''d rely on his cunning.


    As he walked past a stall selling cheap bread, his hand darted out, quick and practiced, snatching a loaf when the vendor''s back was turned.


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    As he ran with the bread loaf, the vendor saw him and started to throw things at him.


    The vendor¡¯s angry shout pierced the market¡¯s din as Ryne darted away, clutching the stolen loaf to his chest. The sound of pottery shattering behind him echoed through the narrow streets as the vendor hurled objects in his direction.


    "Thief! Stop that boy!" the man bellowed, drawing the attention of several passersby and nearby guards.


    Ryne¡¯s heart raced as his feet pounded against the cobblestones. He wove through the crowd, ducking between carts and stalls, his lean body slipping easily through gaps too narrow for those chasing him. But he knew he couldn¡¯t outrun them forever.


    The guards¡ªgreedy for a bribe or just bored¡ªjoined the pursuit. Ryne could hear their armor clinking as they pushed through the market after him. He needed to lose them, fast.


    Ahead, the alley split in two. Without hesitation, Ryne veered left, diving into the darker, more labyrinthine streets of the slums. Here, the buildings were taller, casting deep shadows that cloaked him from view. His breath came in ragged gasps as he clutched the bread tighter, refusing to let go


    He darted around a corner and found a low wall, just tall enough to block someone¡¯s view if they weren¡¯t looking too closely. Without a second thought, he vaulted over it, landing in a heap of discarded crates and rags. The alley was narrow, barely wide enough for him to crouch between the walls, but it was hidden.


    He pressed his back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath as he listened for the sound of footsteps. They were close¡ªtoo close. The heavy clank of the guards¡¯ boots echoed, growing louder, then quieter as they passed his hiding spot.


    Ryne stayed still, waiting until he could no longer hear them before exhaling in relief. His hand reached for the loaf of bread, now slightly crumpled, and tore into it hungrily. The bread was stale and dry, but to Ryne, it might as well have been a feast.


    As he ate, he saw the sun setting, it is about time that he need to return to the old woman.


    Ryne stood up, brushing the dust off his worn clothes once more, and set off in the direction of the woman¡¯s home. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the alleys. The dimming light made it easier to move through the streets unnoticed, but it also meant that the more dangerous figures of the night would soon emerge.


    As he approached the small shack she called home, the smell of damp wood and mold greeted him. The door creaked open at his touch, and the inside was just as dark and cramped as always. The old woman sat near the small hearth, she knew he was there the moment he stepped inside.


    "Did you bring coins? Or rice?" She asked, when he looked up he saw children with broken arms and fresh burn marks lying around. On her left hand he saw a small iron stick which was glowing in red colour.


    "Just like my previous life huh?" He said to himself, then he take out a small cloth bundle from his dress and toss it over the old woman.


    "Here this is today''s howl"  he said.


    The old woman caught the bundle mid-air with surprising agility, her gnarled fingers unfurling the cloth to reveal the few coins Ryne had gathered. She inspected them with a scowl, her pale, cloudy eyes narrowing as she muttered something under her breath.


    "Not enough," she gnawed, "get on the floor" she said that to him as she take a big stick from the corner of that room.


    Ryne¡¯s body tensed, but he kept his face impassive. His eyes flicked momentarily to the children lying on the floor, their faces hollow and expressionless, conditioned to silence in the face of cruelty. The old woman gripped the heavy stick in her hand, her twisted features darkening with displeasure.


    "On the floor," she repeated, her voice icy. "You think you can give me this pittance and walk free? You¡¯ve grown lazy, boy."


    Ryne didn¡¯t move immediately, his mind racing. The sting of humiliation rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He had to endure, just a little longer. Once he rebuilt his strength, this old hag wouldn¡¯t have any power over him. But for now¡­


    Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor, hands and knees pressing into the dirt. He could feel the children''s eyes on him, their silent fear echoing through the small, suffocating room.


    The old woman loomed over him, raising the stick. "This¡¯ll teach you to bring more tomorrow."


    Her voice grated like nails on stone. She swung the stick down with surprising strength for someone of her age, landing a heavy blow on Ryne''s back. Pain radiated through his body, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to make a sound. He''d experienced worse in his previous life, and this, compared to what was at stake, was just a minor inconvenience.


    The stick came down again, harder this time. His muscles tensed, but he stayed still, his gaze fixed on the ground. He could hear the old woman breathing heavily above him, grumbling as she struck again and again.


    "Lazy¡­ good for nothing¡­" she spat between hits, her anger like poison.


    "When I rebuild my semi-core, I''m going to kill you first you fucking old hag." He said that in his mind, while she was continue to beat him.


    The old woman¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps as she slowed, her fury spent. She tossed the stick aside, sneering down at him with a mixture of contempt and satisfaction.


    "Get up," she hissed. "And don''t think you can come back here tomorrow with the same excuse. More coins, or next time, I won¡¯t be so merciful."


    Ryne pushed himself up slowly, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. He stood, his head lowered to hide the smoldering rage burning in his eyes. "Yes, of course," he muttered, his voice deliberately meek.


    Without another word, the old woman turned and limped back toward the hearth, her stick clattering against the floor as she went. Ryne stood there for a moment, the firelight casting long shadows across the dingy room. His gaze shifted to the children, who had watched everything in silence, their eyes hollow and resigned. They were trapped here, just as he had been.


    Ryne turned on his heel and left the shack, stepping out into the night. The cool air hit his face, and he inhaled deeply, trying to push the seething anger to the back of his mind. He would escape this wretched place. He would grow stronger. And when the time came, he would make the old woman pay for every strike, every word of disdain.


    Walking through the darkened alleys, Ryne could feel the prana inside him, faint but present. He clenched his fists, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.


    "Just wait," he thought. "I¡¯ll be free soon."

 First Step.

    After paying the coins he collected to the old woman, Ryne walked outside, his destination was the well near the chicken farm.


    He touched his back, he could still feel the stinging pain.


    Ryne winced as his fingers brushed over the bruised skin of his back. The old woman hadn¡¯t held back, and the pain lingered, a reminder of his current weakness. He clenched his jaw, pushing through it as he walked deeper into the slums.


    The streets were nearly deserted now, the market¡¯s bustling energy replaced by the quiet of the night. Only a few shadowy figures lingered in the alleys, watching from a distance but making no move to approach. Ryne knew the slums well enough to understand that as long as he didn¡¯t draw attention to himself, they would leave him alone.


    Ryne stepped closer to the well, lowering the bucket into the water and pulling it back up with a practiced motion. The cool night air mixed with the faint, earthy scent of the well water as he lifted the bucket to his lips, drinking deeply. The cold liquid soothed his parched throat, refreshing him after the day¡¯s trials.


    He splashed some water over his face and neck, washing away the grime and sweat, before finally turning his attention to his back. Gritting his teeth, he dipped his hand into the bucket and splashed the water onto the bruises. The cold water stung at first but quickly numbed the pain, offering some relief.


    Leaning against the side of the well, Ryne closed his eyes and let out a slow, controlled breath.


    There was a reason why he chose well near the chicken farm, there exists prana the life force of every beings, it is said to be the positive and purest form of energy. If there is a positive energy then there is a negative one as well, it is called corrupted prana which is the exact opposite prana, a dark and twisted essence that thrived on negativity and despair. It is abudent in places like graveyard and farms where lots of lives are losing.


    In this chicken farm atleast 10-20 chickens dies each day if I could just gather the corrupted prana and fuse it with prana I could create a fusion semi-core.


    Ryne opened his eyes, his fingers tracing the edge of the well as he contemplated the power that lay dormant around him. The idea of merging two opposing forces¡ªprana, the life-giving energy, and corrupted prana, the essence of decay¡ªwas dangerous, but it had the potential to give him an edge. He needed something stronger than the pure energy that flowed through the world. His current state of weakness would never be enough to break the chains that bound him to the slums and the old woman¡¯s control.


    Looking toward the chicken farm, Ryne¡¯s thoughts darkened. Every day, the cycle of life and death churned here, unnoticed by most. The corruption lingered in the soil, in the feathers strewn about the ground, and in the blood that stained the dirt. If he could tap into it, draw out the essence of death and mix it with the prana he could forge something entirely new¡ªsomething neither pure nor dark, but balanced.


    A semi-core was not just a source of power; it was a foundation, a piece of magical essence that could amplify one¡¯s abilities. Most practitioners stuck to one type of energy¡ªeither the pure or corrupted. Building a semi-core was the first step towards the endless power that he had hoped to obtain.


    But it would be risky. He had no teacher for this, no guide to warn him of the dangers. If the balance tipped too far in one direction, he could lose control of the energy, allowing the corruption to overtake him entirely. But if he succeeded¡­ if he mastered the fusion, he could wield an immense, unpredictable power.


    In his previous life, he focused on the corrupted prana. It was way to late when he learnt about fusion semi-core. But this life was different, it was like the heavens themselves bestowed him the chance.


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    He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs, and prepared himself. Tonight, he wouldn¡¯t just gather prana or corrupted prana. Tonight, he would start the process of building his semi-core.


    Ryne crouched down by the well, placing his hands on the cool stones. He allowed his senses to extend outward, feeling the subtle currents of prana that lingered in the water. It was pure, flowing, vibrant¡ªlife itself in liquid form. He drew it in slowly, letting it seep into him like water through a dry sponge.


    Then, his gaze shifted toward the chicken farm. The air felt different there, thicker, weighed down by the remnants of death. He had learned in his previous life how to manipulate it, how to bend it to his will, but this time he needed to be more careful. Instead of letting it consume him, he would bind it, contain it within the confines of his core.


    "Focus," Ryne muttered to himself. "Find the balance."


    He stayed in the meditation pose, even after trying for sometime he couldn''t gather the corrupted prana. "I completely forgot I couldn''t simply gather the corrupted prana, I need the heart of a corrupted beast."


    He exhaled slowly, calming himself as the memories of his past life surfaced. A corrupted beast¡¯s heart was more than just a piece of flesh¡ªit was a conduit for negative energy, a nexus that could control and gather the corrupted prana he sought. Without it, the corrupted prana would remain elusive, slipping away like water through his fingers.


    Ryne stood, his muscles aching from the strain of sitting too long in the cold night. He had come to the well with hope, but now he understood he needed to prepare more thoroughly. Finding a corrupted beast in this part of the slums wouldn¡¯t be easy. They were rare, dangerous creatures that thrived in places tainted by deep despair and decay.


    "Looks like the next step is hunting," Ryne muttered to himself. He knew of one place in the city outskirts, a forest where corrupted beasts were rumored to roam. It would be risky, but he didn¡¯t have much of a choice. If he wanted to create the semi-core, he needed that heart.


    He cast one last glance toward the chicken farm. The corrupted prana still lingered there, faint and tempting, but without the heart, it was beyond his grasp.


    As he walked back through the dimly lit streets of the slums, his mind churned with possibilities. The outskirts of the city, where the dense, dark forests began, were rumored to harbor all manner of dangerous beasts.


    He has hunted many corrupted beasts in his previous life in order to strengthen his cores strength, so he knew how difficult it would be in his current state.


    "There is a way that I could hunt a corrupted beast" he muttered, "I need to relay on weapons."


    Ryne¡¯s steps quickened as he made his way back toward his shack, his mind racing with thoughts of the hunt. His body was weak, and without proper weapons or tools, he knew his chances were slim. Still, he couldn¡¯t afford to delay. Every moment wasted was another day trapped under the old woman¡¯s control.


    He entered his shack and looked around at the meager possessions scattered about. There was nothing of value here¡ªnothing that could serve him in the hunt. His gaze fell on an old, sturdy wooden stick leaning against the wall. It was far from ideal, but it was all he had.


    Ryne picked it up, testing its weight in his hands. It felt solid enough, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough to take down a corrupted beast. Still, he could use it to defend himself, perhaps disorient a beast long enough to strike at its heart.


    "I can¡¯t rely on just brute strength," Ryne murmured to himself.


    Ryne stood still, his breath steady as he gripped the wooden stick like a sword. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, his stance solid but fluid, like the mist itself. He had learned the Sky Breaking Swordsmanship in his previous life,


    and although he had no real sword now, the essence of the Sky Breaking Swordsmanship lived within his every move. The technique is passed down in the Southern Sky sects outer disciples, where Ryne had once trained before his reincarnation. The sect was notorious for its rigorous training, particularly for its focus on balance, speed, and precision. It was a style that relied not on raw power, but on mastering the flow of energy and movement, blending into the world like mist in the wind.


    He twirled the wooden stick with fluid grace, mimicking the techniques he had once mastered. The weight of the stick was far lighter than a sword, but Ryne made do, focusing on maintaining his posture and balance. The first form of the Sky Breaking Swordsmanship, Falling Star Strike, was meant to quickly subdue his opponent with a quick powerful strike In his weakened state, this form was the most valuable; it allowed him to strike quickly, avoiding direct confrontation.


    "With this, I can at least buy myself time," he thought, as he shifted into the second form, Cloud Piercer.


    This form was more direct, designed for breaking through an enemy¡¯s defenses with sharp, controlled strikes aimed at vital points. His body moved as if by instinct, feet gliding across the floor of his shack as he executed the pattern, imagining the strikes landing true. It was far from perfect, especially without a sword, but it was all he had.


    As the final movement ended, Ryne lowered the stick and exhaled slowly. His body ached, not just from the strain of practice, but from the beating he¡¯d received earlier. Still, he felt more prepared, mentally if not physically. The hunt for the corrupted beast was risky, but necessary.


    He had a plan now. The forest outskirts awaited him, filled with dangerous creatures, and though his weapon was nothing more than a wooden stick, he had something more valuable¡ªhis experience from a past life. The Southern Sky Sect¡¯s techniques would be his edge.


    Ryne placed the wooden stick against the wall and lay down on the floor, His muscles protested, but he knew that rest was essential. Tomorrow, he would venture into the forest, and the hunt for the corrupted beast would begin.


    As he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted back to his old sect. The Southern Sky Sect had always emphasized the importance of perseverance. "The sky may break, but you must never fall," his old master had said.


    Ryne smirked slightly at the memory. He wouldn¡¯t fall. Not this time.

 Corrupted Beast

    Roosters started to crowing early I the morning, the fragrance of flowers mixed with the pungent smell from the slum.


    Everyone from the slum started to do their morning activities.


    "Brother Ryne! Brother Ryne!" A small kid tried to wake Ryne from his sleep, he slowly opened his eyes and saw the kid standing near him.


    Ryne blinked groggily, the sound of the rooster''s crow and the mixture of floral scents with the stench of the slums still heavy in the air. The dull ache in his body reminded him of the previous day¡¯s events, but the urgency in the child''s voice snapped him out of his lingering fatigue.


    "What is it?" Ryne asked, pushing himself up from the floor, his muscles protesting with each movement.


    The small boy, no more than seven years old, stood there with wide eyes, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Kian was his name, he was one of the youngest begger under the old woman.


    " Ms. Ratna," Kian whispered, his voice barely audible as he glanced toward the door. "She sent me to fetch you. She says it¡¯s urgent."


    "Alright," Ryne muttered, while standing up slowly. His body protested with every motion, but he ignored the pain, quickly grabbing the wooden stick he had practiced with the night before.


    He followed that boy, "What does that bitch want now?" He thought himself.


    As Ryne followed the small boy through the narrow, dirty alleyways of the slums, his mind raced with frustration. Ms. Ratna was always demanding something from him, her grip on the people in the slums tightening with every favor she extended. He clenched the wooden stick in his hand, the muscles in his arms tense as he mentally prepared himself for whatever new scheme she had in store.


    Kian led him to the familiar, rickety shack where Ms. Ratna conducted her dealings. It stood at the edge of the slums, looking over the impoverished area like a watchful crow. The smell of incense mingled with the rotten stench of flesh as they neared the entrance.


    Kian stopped at the door and looked up at Ryne. "She¡¯s inside," he whispered, fear lacing his voice. The boy then quickly scampered off, not wanting to be anywhere near the old woman longer than he had to.


    Ryne steeled himself and pushed open the creaky door. Inside, Ms. Ratna sat in her usual spot, surrounded by various trinkets and jars of strange herbs and powders. Her cold, calculating eyes locked onto Ryne the moment he stepped inside.


    ¡°Ryne,¡± she drawled, her voice like nails on stone. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    "I didn¡¯t know I was on a schedule," Ryne replied coolly, his eyes narrowing as he approached her. He stood tall, trying to mask the pain that still lingered in his body. "What do you want?"


    Ms. Ratna¡¯s thin lips curled into a twisted smile. ¡°Always so sharp-tongued. You should learn to show some respect to those who keep you alive.¡±


    Ryne didn¡¯t respond, knowing any retort would only prolong the conversation.


    Ms. Ratna''s smile faded, her expression turning serious. ¡°There¡¯s a job I need done. Some people haven¡¯t been paying their debts. You¡¯re going to remind them of their obligations.¡±


    Ryne¡¯s stomach churned at the thought. He hated being used for her dirty work, but he had no choice. At least, not yet. His eyes flicked to the wooden stick in his hand, his mind already turning to the hunt he had planned. If he could create the fusion semi-core, her hold on him would be shattered.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Ryne said, his voice flat. ¡°Where?¡±


    She handed him a slip of paper with names and locations scribbled on it. ¡°Make sure they pay up this time. If they use any excuse break both of their legs."


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    Ryne took the slip of paper, folding it without looking at the names written on it.


    ¡°Understood,¡± Ryne said, his voice devoid of emotion. There was no point in arguing. He would do what he had to¡ªjust like every other time¡ªbut this time, it would be different. He had a plan.


    Ms. Ratna¡¯s sharp eyes studied him for a moment, as if searching for any sign of rebellion, but Ryne¡¯s face remained a mask of indifference.


    ¡°Good boy,¡± she purred, her twisted smile returning. ¡°Don¡¯t disappoint me.¡±


    Without another word, Ryne turned and left the shack, his mind already focused on the task ahead. He didn¡¯t care about the debts or the people on the list. What mattered was making sure that this would be one of the last errands he ever ran for Ms. Ratna.


    As he stepped outside, the sun had barely risen, casting long shadows over the slums. Ryne glanced down at the paper and then quickly shoved it back into his pocket. He would deal with it soon enough. But first, he needed to gather more information about the corrupted beasts and find the heart he needed for the semi-core. Once he had that power, Ms. Ratna¡¯s grip on him would be meaningless.


    Kian was waiting for him a few feet away, his small hands wringing nervously.


    ¡°Go back to the others,¡± Ryne said. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of this.¡±


    Kian nodded quickly and scampered off into the winding streets of the slums, disappearing behind a corner.


    Ryne watched Kian disappear into the maze of the slums, the boy''s hurried steps echoing faintly in the distance. The morning light painted the shabby surroundings in muted golds and brown.


    Ryne sighed, feeling the weight of the slip of paper in his pocket. His mind wasn¡¯t on the task ahead, but on something far more important¡ªhis freedom. He clenched the wooden stick tighter, its familiar texture grounding him as his thoughts shifted back to his plan.


    He¡¯d heard rumors of the corrupted beasts that roamed the outskirts of the city, twisted creatures born of magic gone awry. Dangerous, yes, but if he could harness their power, extract the core he needed to complete his semi fusion core, then he could become even more powerful than his last life.


    He set off to the forest in order to find the corrupted beast. The path ahead was rough, overgrown with weeds and gnarled roots that twisted beneath his boots. As he walked, the sounds of the bustling slums gradually faded, replaced by the eerie stillness of the outskirts. The deeper he went, the more the air grew heavy with an unnatural tension.


    He tightened his grip on the wooden stick, knowing it wouldn''t do much against a corrupted beast, but it was better than nothing. He needed to lure one out and weaken it, but caution would be his biggest weapon.


    As the trees thickened around him, Ryne heard a low growl. He stopped in his tracks, listening carefully. The sound came again, closer this time, accompanied by the rustling of leaves. His pulse quickened, but he steadied his breathing, scanning the shadows for movement.


    Suddenly, a shape darted between the trees¡ªa flash of black and red fur, followed by the glint of muddy tusk. Ryne¡¯s muscles tensed as the beast circled him, its glowing eyes fixated on him from the darkness.


    A corrupted boar.


    Ryne¡¯s heart pounded as the corrupted boar snorted and pawed the ground, its tusks gleaming with a sickly aura. The creature''s hulking form was covered in patches of rotting fur, and dark smoke were coming from it''s back.


    The boar charged, and Ryne barely had time to roll out of the way. It slammed into a nearby tree with a thunderous crash, splintering the wood. Ryne scrambled to his feet, eyes never leaving the beast. The wooden stick in his hand felt laughably inadequate against such raw power.


    Ryne circled the boar, trying to stay out of its direct path. The creature snorted again, its beady eyes blazing with unnatural fury. He noticed that its having a hard time to turn around.


    Then something flashed in his head, "This boar seems familiar". He muttered, he didn''t get enough time to think further, that boar charged at him again.


    The boar charged with reckless fury, and Ryne barely dodged to the side, the beast''s tusk grazing his arm as it barreled past. When he looked at that arm he saw the wound become dark in colour.


    "You damn pig" Ryne spat, clutching his arm as the darkness seeped into the wound. The poison from the boar was spreading quickly, making his arm feel heavy and numb.


    Then he remembered, "An ugly pig that deals poison damage! Isn''t it the death eating demonic boar?".


    Ryne''s eyes widened as the memory resurfaced¡ªthe Death-Eating Demonic Boar, a creature that had laid waste to entire villages in his previous life. He¡¯d only ever heard about it through rumors passed along by traveling merchants, but never thought he would come face to face with it.


    "Damn it," Ryne muttered, his grip on the wooden stick tightening despite the numbness creeping up his arm. He didn¡¯t have much time before the poison would render him useless, or worse. But he couldn''t let this opportunity slip away. If he could defeat it and extract it''s heart he could finally use corrupted prana once again.


    The boar snorted, steam billowing from its flared nostrils as it pawed the ground for another charge. Its crimson eyes gleamed with malicious intent, and Ryne knew that this next strike could be his last if he wasn¡¯t careful.


    "Focus," he reminded himself, trying to steady his breathing. He had fought larger and more dangerous creatures in his past life, but never with such limited resources and a body which can''t use corrupted prana properly.


    Ryne quickly scanned his surroundings. The trees¡ªdense and twisted¡ªoffered some cover, but he needed something more. A plan.


    The boar roared and charged again, its massive bulk hurtling toward him with terrifying speed. Instead of dodging this time, Ryne sprinted toward a nearby tree. At the last second, he leapt behind it, the boar crashing into the thick trunk, splintering the wood and sending shards flying.


    He climbed on top of that tree, then decided to use sky breaking swordsmanship.


    He breathed In and closed his eyes, The boar roared beneath him, shaking off the splinters from its previous collision, preparing to charge again. Its corrupted form emanated a sinister aura, the dark smoke from its back swirling like an ominous storm. Ryne knew he had only one shot before the poison took him out of the fight completely.


    With the next thunderous charge, the beast barreled forward, its tusks gleaming with the dark energy it had absorbed. Ryne¡¯s mind raced as he aligned the trajectory¡ªhe had to strike the heart.


    ¡°Sky-Breaking Swordsmanship, First Form: Falling Star Strike¡±


    Ryne leapt from the tree, channeling every ounce of strength into the downward motion. The air seemed to shiver as his wooden stick glowed faintly, imbued with the phantom energy of his swordsmanship. The strike connected with the boar¡¯s exposed back, right between the rotting fur patches where the dark smoke spewed.


    Ryne hit the ground, rolling to cushion his fall, but pain shot through his body. His arm throbbed where the poison had spread, and his vision swam. He looked up just in time to see the corrupted boar staggering, its movements slowing.


    That boar then slowly fell to one side, that was the final thing he saw before losing consciousness.

 Circulation

    The forest was awfully quite, even the small streams of water or birds didn''t create any sound. It was as if they are waiting for something.


    Under the tree Ryne was still unconscious, on his side the death eating demonic boar were staying dead.


    That boar only had wound on it head, it was from the sky breaking swordsmanship that Ryne used. That boar''s skill got crushed from Ryne''s attack. Dark smoke still seeped from its body, though it was slowly dissipating into the cold, quiet air.


    "Huh..." Ryne groaned softly as he began to regain consciousness. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy, almost foreign. The first thing he noticed was the numbness spreading through his left arm. He could barely feel it now, the poison having seeped into his veins like a slow, creeping death.


    He struggled to sit up, blinking groggily as the world around him came back into focus. The forest still seemed unnervingly quiet, but his attention was drawn to his arm¡ªthe blackened veins spreading from the boar''s wound were stark against his pale skin.


    ¡°I can¡¯t feel it...¡± Ryne muttered, his voice weak. The poison had numbed his arm completely, making it useless. Panic began to rise in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had faced worse in his previous life, but this body was still weak and vulnerable.


    Ryne stumbled toward the Death-Eating Demonic Boar, his legs weak and trembling. He fell to his knees multiple times, dirt clinging to his hands and clothes.


    When he finally reached the boar, his breath came in ragged gasps. The wooden stick he had used in the fight lay broken near the creature, splintered from the force of his last strike. Despite the pain and the poison coursing through him, Ryne grasped the broken stick with his good arm and drove it into the boar¡¯s chest with as much strength as he could muster.


    The stick cracked through the tough hide, and dark blood oozed out slowly. Ryne gritted his teeth and continued to dig, splitting open the boar¡¯s chest. His vision blurred, the edges of the world spinning with dizziness, but he couldn''t stop now.


    Finally, his fingers brushed against something warm and solid¡ªthe boar¡¯s heart. It pulsed faintly in his grip.


    Panting heavily, Ryne yanked the heart free from the beast¡¯s chest. It throbbed in his hand, he felt that it was pulsating in his hand.


    ¡°The heart¡­ now the medicine,¡± he muttered weakly, glancing at his arm. The veins had darkened further, the poison spreading dangerously close to his shoulder. He didn¡¯t have much time left.


    Ryne staggered to his feet, clutching the boar¡¯s heart tightly. Then he wrapped it in a leaf and tucked in his clothes.


    "There must be a graveyard near, I''m sure that the death eating demonic boar eat the deadbodies from the graveyard that''s how it''s kept on getting powerful." He said to himself.


    "Grave Keeper¡¯s Honey..." Ryne muttered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the forest. His mind latched onto the name of the herb, repeating it like a mantra. It was his only chance. The small, yellow bell-shaped flowers with green leaves marked by white dots were known to be the sole cure for the rotting poison of the boar.


    He stumbled forward, each step a battle as he forced his legs to move. His body felt heavy, as if the forest itself were pressing down on him. The eerie silence around him only deepened his sense of isolation, as though the entire world had paused, waiting for his next move.


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    Ryne¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps, the numbness in his arm now creeping toward his chest. He scanned the forest desperately to find the graveyard, that is the only place where the Grave Keepers Honey grows.


    Ryne stumbled again, falling to his knees as a fresh wave of dizziness swept over him.


    "Focus..." he whispered to himself, forcing his eyes to scan the forest ahead. In the distance, he spotted something¡ªan odd break in the tree line, as if the trees themselves recoiled from a certain area. His heart quickened. Could it be the graveyard?


    Ryne pushed himself back to his feet, his body protesting every movement. His legs felt like lead, his left arm was completely useless, and the poison was creeping closer to his chest, but he pressed on. Each step was a battle, each breath a reminder that time was running out.


    Finally, after what felt like hours but could have been mere minutes, Ryne reached the edge of the graveyard. The sight that met his eyes was grim¡ªweathered tombstones, some cracked and crumbling, jutted out from the overgrown grass. The air was colder here, heavy with the scent of decay. Dark, twisted trees loomed over the graves, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers.


    And there, nestled among the stones, he spotted it¡ªthe Grave Keeper¡¯s Honey. The small yellow bell-shaped flowers stood out like a beacon of hope against the dreary landscape. Their delicate petals swayed gently, as though untouched by the death that surrounded them.


    He plucked the herb from the ground and bite the root, it has a mild sweetness to it that was the reason why it is called Grave Keepers Honey.


    His body shuddered violently as the herb began to take effect. The numbing sensation in his left arm flared into sharp, burning pain as the poison resisted the healing properties of the herb. Ryne gritted his teeth, his vision blurring again, but this time he could feel the poison slowly retreating. The blackened veins that had spread dangerously close to his shoulder began to recede, turning back to their normal pale color.


    For a moment, Ryne collapsed back onto the damp, overgrown grass, his chest heaving as he took deep, labored breaths. He clutched his arm, which throbbed with lingering pain, but he could feel it again. The numbness was gone, and the poison had been neutralized.


    Ryne slowly sat up, his muscles screaming in protest as he forced himself to move.


    Then he take out the heart of death eating demonic boar, he didn''t think twice and bite on that heart. His entire body recoiled at the foul taste, but he forced himself to keep chewing.


    After finished eating the heart he quickly sat in the meditation pose, he tried to gather corrupted prana. And slowly he began to sense it entering his body.


    Suddenly he started to Cough up blood, the pure prana and corrupted prana where counteracting inside his body.


    "Stay... calm..." Ryne muttered through gritted teeth, fighting to remain conscious. He had experienced pain before, but this was something far more sinister.


    He forced himself to focus on his breathing, drawing slow, shallow breaths as he tried to center his mind.


    He tightly closed his eyes and gathered both pranas in his solar plexus, then slowly rotated the energy like a whirlpool. It was mixing slowly yet the process was painful.


    As Ryne continued to focus, the energy within him swirled, the opposing forces of pure and corrupted prana grinding against one another like stormy waves crashing in a confined space. Every rotation in his solar plexus felt like a knife twisting in his gut, but he couldn¡¯t afford to stop now. He forced his mind to control the growing whirlpool, regulating its flow, pushing the corrupted prana to bend to his will.


    The sensation was excruciating. The pure prana, which once felt like a comforting warmth, now clashed violently with the dark energy surging from the boar¡¯s heart. His muscles spasmed, his veins burned, and his entire body trembled as if on the verge of collapse.


    "Just... a little longer..." Ryne whispered through gritted teeth, his voice barely audible.


    The whirlpool of prana began to stabilize, albeit slowly. Ryne visualized the darkness within him being drawn into the light at the center of his core, coiling around it like a snake ready to strike but held at bay. Gradually, the pain subsided into a dull throb, and the corrupted energy, though not fully tamed, became less wild, more manageable. It responded to his command, reluctantly bending to his will.