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—just like every other time—but 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—his 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—a 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—the 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—dense and twisted—offered 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—he 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.