CHAPTER 108: ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO REINCARNATION.

Harry was in a tough position, every breath burning in his chest as he fought to escape with all his might. Yet hope kept slipping away with every falling boulder, the collapsing path closing in behind him like a tomb.

The vanishing light ahead mirrored his life—flickering, fragile, ready to end.

Desperation surged as he prepared to use Shadow Step against the wall, praying it wasn’t too thick. He could phase through matter for only a single second, but if he miscalculated and got stuck inside... it would be a death far worse than being crushed.

His eyes narrowed. Just as he was about to move, something flickered—an unfamiliar force grabbed him by the shadows and ripped him out of the collapsing cavern. The next instant, cold air slapped his face. He was outside.

A ragged cough tore the silence, and Harry hit the ground hard as Gracie hurled him down like discarded meat.

"Ouch, can’t you be a little gentle?" Harry scoffed, dusting himself off.

She didn’t answer. Her chest heaved, her face pale. He realized with a sinking heart she had burned through all her elemental energy just to save him.

"I thought you were good at running," she rasped.

"Not as good as you."

They chuckled weakly, the humor brittle against the weight of what just happened. Then silence stretched between them, awkward and heavy.

The earth trembled. A rumble grew into a roar as the stones behind them exploded outward. A beast, massive and rugged, its body drenched in blood, crawled free.

Both of them snapped. Gracie staggered to her feet, but Harry’s gut tightened—she was empty. No essence left. Only her raw soul energy and physical strength remained.

Her greatest attacks came from combining her element with deadly precision. But now she was spent, her essence shattered by overexertion.

Harry clenched his jaw. He had to take her place. If they faltered even once, both their lives would end under that beast’s claws.

Gripping his black longsword, he forced courage into his bones and rushed forward. The beast was unstable, blinded by pain, its movements uneven. This was the only chance.

Blood streamed from its wounds, each drop sizzling as it struck the ground. It caught sight of him and let out a roar, enraged.

Harry gathered every shred of essence left in his body, his heart hammering like a war drum. This was his last showdown. He would pour everything into this strike.

Chains of stone erupted from the ground, lashing at him. Harry’s body blurred—Shadow Step. A phantom image of him remained in the beast’s sight.

It attacked instantly, shattering the shadowy afterimage with brute force. But the real Harry had already closed the distance.

He inclined over the barriers, boots slamming against shifting rocks, and earned a heartbeat of advantage.

The once fearsome beast now looked like a battered puppet, its vitality draining, its sentience crumbling. Harry’s grip tightened, and his sword began to tremble violently. For the first time, the dark blade shone—blinding, radiant, alive.

Power surged into him—alien, vast, incomprehensible. Soul energy, condensed and pure, gushed like a flood beyond what any elemental master should touch. Perhaps even beyond what a Spiritual Sage could withstand.

The sword radiated an aura as if it had descended from the heavens themselves, its brilliance threatening to crack the very sky.

Harry roared and brought the blade down.

The impact was surreal. The overwhelming torrent of energy channeled perfectly through the sword, cutting through the beast as if it was made of paper, its massive form cut in half smooth like butter.

The beast collapsed in silence, its body unraveling.

A sharp ding

echoed in Harry’s mind—a system notification. Relief washed through him, but before he could focus on the screen, he noticed something strange.

From the beast’s corpse, a faint, glow—barely visible—rose into the air and drifted toward him. It sank into the sword like water vanishing into sand.

The blade pulsed, shining brighter, and the stream of energy pouring into Harry did not stop.

At first, it felt intoxicating—the purity of the soul energy washing through him. But within moments, it became unbearable. Too much. His veins burned, his body screamed.

Instinctively, Harry shifted into cultivation, forcing the rampaging current into his Soul Sea. The storm hammered against his inner world, shattering his limits, refining his sea, expanding the avatar within.

He pressed harder, clinging to the edge of breakthrough. His body shook violently as cracks spidered across his soul, tearing him apart from the inside. He couldn’t keep up.

Death loomed at the threshold.

Then warmth. A soft, steady energy wrapped around him, soothing, pulling him back from the abyss. His consciousness drowned in it, and he slipped into darkness.

When Harry opened his eyes, he found himself inside a dim cave. His hands were etching markings onto the sword’s blade, movements precise and foreign, while Gracie sat cross-legged nearby, her aura trembling on the verge of breakthrough.

Panic struck him—he wasn’t in control of his body.

"Oh, you woke up?" a familiar voice echoed.

Harry turned. Krish’s soul shimmered faintly beside him.

"What do you mean I woke up? Why can’t I feel my body?"

"Calm down. I’m in control. Give me some time," Krish said flatly, then fell silent.

Harry’s pulse raced. He shouted question after question, but no response came. He could see Krish’s soul clearly, hovering with an authority that made his own presence feel insignificant. He wanted to lash out, but the sheer difference in their level crushed the thought.

Fear seeped in. Am I going to die here? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him.

"Enough whining," Krish snapped suddenly. "I saved your life once, and you still manage to dive into problems far beyond your comprehension?" His tone dripped with anger.

A shudder ran through Harry. For the first time, Krish’s voice carried genuine fury.

Then, suddenly, sensation returned—his limbs, his body, all under his control again.

"What? Just like that?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in your weak body," Krish sneered. "I was regaining my strength, but you—" his voice tightened, sharp as a blade, "you fucked up. Do you know how much this cost me? I already lost a full realm of soul cultivation just to pull you back."

The weight of his anger pressed down like a mountain. Harry remained silent, sweat beading on his forehead.

Finally, he managed, "I’m sorry. But at least tell me what happened. I can’t correct mistakes I don’t understand."

Krish’s gaze flickered toward the blade. A faint orb hovered there, dim white light twisting weakly.

"This bastard," Krish spat, "left a fragment of his consciousness in the sword. An attempt at reincarnation."

Harry’s eyes widened.

"He fed on the life energy of the beasts you killed. That’s why you weren’t gaining any significant boost from the sword. He was stealing it. The system couldn’t detect him, but the soul contract still prevented him from fully taking over. Clever bastard.

When the energy overflowed, he tried to drown you. Overwhelm your soul, break your body, then seize control. He didn’t know I was here. His mistake."

Harry swallowed hard, cold sweat running down his spine.

"I used the Dreamthron that parasite to erase him completely and placed a limiter on the sword. But listen—this artifact is high-level. Its fundamentals are beyond my manipulation. It will continue feeding on life energy, but now I’ve bound Dreamthron’s soul to it and created a stable connection between the System and the blade."

Harry blinked rapidly, processing the words.

He summoned the system screen. Notifications stacked one after another, glowing bright.

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

His jaw dropped.