"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." 

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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—mercenaries, 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—" 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—all 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—the 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!"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"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—" 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—they 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. 

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"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—the 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—perhaps 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.