Unrivaled in another world

[: 3rd POV :]

Daniel stood frozen before the capsule, eyes locked onto the grotesque being within an amalgamation of so many lives, of so many souls.

The single eye stared back at him, its tears thick and unceasing.

The voices, all of them, layered and overlapping, continued to beg softly, "Please… k-kill me… It hurts… it hurts so much…"

He had made his decision.

But it wasn't one he could make lightly.

He took a step forward, each movement heavier than the last.

His heart thundered in his chest as his trembling hand slowly reached out, summoning the ethereal blade — his Class Skill: Sword of Final Rule.

A blade of translucent light, neither divine nor demonic, materialised in his hand.

It hummed with still judgment, resonating with the finality of origin and end.

A weapon that struck not flesh, but essence — a sword that reached into the very foundation of existence.

Daniel stared at the existence chained in agony, the pulsating Heart Gem visible in the centre of its torso, glowing with twisted life.

It was not just a core — it was a prison.

It was the cage that held dozens, maybe hundreds of souls together, artificially merged and tormented to live against their will.

He could feel the fear, the sorrow, the pain radiating from it — not as one being, but as many, whispering all at once.

"Y-You'll set us… free… right…?"

"Thank you…"

"Tell our families… we didn't forget them…"

"I-I don't want to be this anymore…"

"Please… end it…"

Daniel's vision blurred.

His breath hitched.

Tears threatened the corners of his eyes.

His hands trembled as he raised the Sword of Final Rule, its radiant edge shimmering, locked onto the Heart Gem.

He didn't want to do this.

He never wanted to do this.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, voice barely audible.

"I'm so sorry… I couldn't save you…"

And then, he slashed.

The blade of origin cleaved through the air with a soundless ripple, striking true.

It bypassed the flesh, the chains, the capsule, all of it, and landed directly upon the Heart Gem.

A flash of blinding light erupted from the core, engulfing the entire room in a warm, peaceful brilliance.

There was no scream.

No wail.

No violent eruption.

Only a gentle wave of release.

As the light faded, Daniel collapsed to his knees.

His sword vanished into motes of dust.

His arms hung limp at his sides.

The capsule was empty now, no blood, no remains, no cries.

Just silence.

His lips trembled as the memory of the smile, that smile, was imprinted in his heart.

The creature had smiled at the end.

A soft, genuine expression, one not born of pain, but of peace.

As the radiant light faded, the room settled into an unnatural stillness.

The capsule was gone.

The creature was gone.

There was no flesh, no fragments, no blood—just air, just stillness… and then, like ripples across a still pond, they began to appear.

One by one.

Soft, glowing figures — souls, not twisted or mangled but pure, freed — drifted gently into the air.

There were dozens of them.

Young and old.

Male and female.

Beastkin, humans, elves, dwarves… even dragons in humanoid form.

Their expressions were calm; they were relieved.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened, glassy with emotion.

"W-What…?" he muttered, stunned, barely able to process what he was seeing.

"These are… the souls that were inside…"

One of them, a woman with gentle eyes, stepped forward.

She looked ethereal, like moonlight given form.

She touched Daniel's cheek with a warm, delicate hand.

Her smile carried both sorrow and peace.

"Thank you… for freeing us," she whispered.

He froze. Her voice wasn't pained anymore. It was soft. Free.

"I… I can finally see my children again."

Her smile wavered as tears of light traced down her cheeks.

"I missed them so much…"

Before he could speak, a young girl, barely ten, approached him next.

Her small hands clutched a worn teddy bear close to her chest.

Her eyes were wide, innocent, glowing softly in the dim light.

"Thank you, big brother," she said, her voice like a feather.

Daniel's lips parted, but no words came out.

His throat tightened, and he dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by the sheer purity of their gratitude — and the unbearable weight of what they'd suffered.

Then came an old dwarf, broad-shouldered and armoured in the likeness of a warrior's spirit, his beard glowing faintly like firelight.

He gave Daniel a firm nod and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself for this, kid," he said gruffly.

"You did what we couldn't. You gave us rest."

"You gave us peace."

"You gave us dignity."

And they came, one after another — smiling, thanking, forgiving.

A line of radiant souls once chained to agony, now offered only warmth.

"We're not in pain anymore."

"We remember who we were."

"You saved us."

Daniel's heart clenched so tightly he thought it might stop.

He could barely see through the tears clouding his eyes.

"I… I didn't deserve your thanks," he whispered, voice breaking.

"I couldn't save you… not the way you deserved to be saved…"

But the young girl tugged lightly on his sleeve and smiled, her glowing form beginning to fade.

"You saved us in the only way anyone could."

Slowly, one by one, the souls began to dissolve into light, rising into the air like fireflies ascending to the stars.

Daniel reached out instinctively, trying to grasp even a fragment of their presence—but they were already slipping beyond his reach.

And before the last soul faded—a final voice echoed in the silence.

"Thank you…"

And then, there was nothing.

Just Daniel, kneeling alone in that hollow room, with tears falling quietly to the floor.

He bowed his head, placed a hand over his heart, and whispered to the silence:

"…Rest well."

He lowered his head, his tears falling freely now, dripping onto the broken ground beneath him.

"I… set them free… right?" he whispered to no one. "I did the right thing… didn't I?"

His voice was barely a whisper, cracked and fragile, swallowed by the void around him.

Then, the familiar chime of the system echoed gently in his mind.

[: Host… You did :]

Daniel flinched slightly at the voice, but didn't lift his head.

"I killed them… I killed them, System. How is that right…?"

[: You didn't kill them. You released them :]

Daniel clenched his fists, his body shaking.

"I still… I should've tried…!"

[: You did try, and you chose the path that saved them from eternal torment. That is not failure. That is courage :]

The words struck something deep inside him.

[: Host, this decision… was not about victory. It was about mercy :]

[: You gave them back their names. Their smiles. Their peace. And for that, they were thankful. You saw it, didn't you? :]

"I did… they smiled… even after everything…"

[: That smile was real. That gratitude was real :]

A pause, then the system's tone softened beyond its usual mechanical coldness.

[: Host. You bear too much, too often. You blame yourself for every scar in this world, every life you couldn't save. But even you have limits. And what you did today… was something not even many would dare to do :]

Daniel slowly looked up, eyes red and glistening.

[ You did the right thing, Daniel. The only thing that could be done. And you were not cruel. You were kind. ]

…?"[ Mercy, in its truest form, is never easy. But today… it was needed. And only you had the strength to give it. ]

Daniel closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, letting the guilt start to ebb—slowly, painfully—but with purpose.

"Thank you… System…"

Daniel had realised—truly, deeply—that even with all his overwhelming power, he couldn't save everyone.

It wasn't a matter of lacking strength.

He had enough of that to level mountains, to bend reality, to erase horrors with a thought.

But this… this was something he couldn't undo.

Some tragedies were too far gone—twisted beyond repair, beyond restoration.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by fading motes of soul-light, Daniel bowed his head and accepted something he had long tried to deny.

He had learned—painfully—that not everything could be solved with power alone.

That strength, while mighty, was not the answer to every sorrow.

"I was wrong," he whispered to himself, voice trembling.

"I thought if I was just strong enough… fast enough… powerful enough… I could stop all of this. I could save them all…"

But he couldn't. Not this time.

And admitting that… was harder than any battle he'd ever fought.

It wasn't a weakness.

It was understanding.

And Daniel carried that lesson forward—not as a wound, but as a weight. A truth.

Because true strength wasn't just about destroying enemies.

It was knowing when to let go… and having the heart to do what no one else could.

''Perhaps, if I had more points, maybe I could have saved them, but I can't regret it now,'' Daniel declared.

''The only thing that I can do now is to free them and annihilate every single place like this'' Daniel said.