"Sigh… are we really sure this is going to be okay?" Harry looked at the paraglider strapped to his back and asked the person beside him.
Zayne stood next to him with a smile on his face. "Weren't you the one who said you wanted to try paragliding, Harry? You even went and bought a paraglider just for this."
"Well, that's true, but I can't shake the feeling that something's going to go wrong..." A dark cloud hung over Harry's heart—he had a strong sense of foreboding.
Zayne patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry. The shop you bought it from is the top-rated seller on that online platform. Sure, there aren't many reviews, but every single one is five stars. There's no way it's a scam. Go ahead!"
As he said this, he lowered his head slightly, and the reflection on his glasses made it impossible to see his eyes.
Harry looked out at the mountain range stretching into the distance, took a deep breath, turned back with a bright smile, and said, "Alright then, here I go."
He then turned, sprinted forward, and launched into the air in one fluid motion—completely unlike a beginner.
This young man with the glider was Harry, 23 years old and freshly graduated from university. His academic performance was average—just a typical graduate from a standard university. He picked things up quickly in general, just not book knowledge; otherwise, he might've had a better future.
He didn't have many hobbies either—just liked watching Doraemon now and then to escape from reality.
As for Zayne, he was a close friend, though it always felt like Zayne saw Harry as some sort of rival.
But apart from academics and swordsmanship, Zayne was outmatched by Harry in everything else. So all he could do was harbor silent jealousy.
Both of them were well aware of this dynamic. They spent all four years of college in this love-hate, competitive friendship.
On a side note, Zayne had a bit of a chūnibyō streak. He was particularly into magic novels and shows.
As Harry soared off the mountain peak and deployed his glider, everything felt normal. He caught a breeze and turned toward another mountain.
Halfway through the flight, the wind picked up. He had to put in some effort to adjust course to avoid getting blown off track.
That's when he heard a sharp crack. He looked back—and saw that the glider's connector had split open…
In that moment between life and death, it all made sense to him. That's why there were so few reviews...
If the wind stayed gentle, everything worked fine, so of course people gave good ratings. But if someone flew higher and hit stronger wind, the thing failed—and no one lived to leave a review.
He turned back around, let go of one hand, and screamed the final full sentence of his life into the sky: "Damn that seller, your grandma's—AAAHHHHH—!"
Tossed about by the wind, he plummeted, eventually crashing into what seemed to be a cave. The last thing he remembered was the sight of countless bones within, as he kept tumbling deeper inside until he was impaled by a stone monument.
But he no longer cared about the pain—his body was already shattered. The agony of his injuries lasted just a few seconds before consciousness left him entirely.
Blood poured from the wound in his abdomen, soaking the runes carved into the obelisk. It had four sides—three inscribed with dense writing, and only one featuring characters that were immediately recognizable.
"Devouring Soul Slate"
Once it had absorbed enough blood, a beam of light enveloped Harry's soul and launched it skyward. The obelisk dimmed, then crumbled to dust in mere seconds. His corpse fell limp to the ground.
Meanwhile, Zayne smiled as he watched Harry vanish into the sky.
"Hmph. Finally. Sorry about this, but for my own safety, a little sacrifice was necessary."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a sharp pain stabbed through his head, forcing him to his knees.
"It's finally happening. I've waited so long for this day."
A cold voice echoed in his mind. "Didn't think you had the guts. I figured you'd be as useless as the rest."
"Well, since you're a cut above the trash, I'll give you a bit of knowledge. Make good use of it."
Despite the searing pain, Zayne was perfectly lucid. He knew how valuable these incantations were—he was already fantasizing about the power and luxury that would soon be his.
Then he suddenly noticed a small figure ahead of him, and a voice rang out: "So that's how it is. That clears up my last question."
Through the pain, Zayne looked up to see a boy, about eleven years old, standing in front of him with a cold, piercing gaze.
"Who are you?" Zayne instinctively stepped back, alarmed to see a child in a place like this.
"What the hell? Why is he still alive—and already so powerful?"
The cold voice spoke again, but now it carried a note of fear.
"What do you mean?! Who is he?! Tell me!" Zayne screamed within his mind, trying to force an answer from the ancient soul. But it said nothing.
Realizing his trump card was now useless, Zayne tried to talk his way out of it.
"Hey there, little guy. We've never even met before. We've got no bad blood, right? You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
The child sneered. "Hmph. Yeah, I thought we didn't have any bad blood either."
Zayne breathed a sigh of relief—until the next sentence dropped him into despair.
"Too bad you didn't think that when you tricked me into jumping."
Zayne began to tremble. "You—you're…"
"Harry. That's the name I used to go by." With that, he raised both hands, and surging magical energy gathered around him.
Seeing this, Zayne collapsed, reaching out in desperation. "Listen! The ancient soul made me do it! He said he'd kill me if I didn't!"
Harry nodded. "I know. He tried to hide, but I sensed his presence the moment I arrived. Don't worry—I'll take care of him."
At that, the ancient soul emerged in a panic. "He's still mine! If you lay a hand on me, I'll take him with me!"
Caught between two overwhelming forces, Zayne was utterly terrified, convinced he'd be killed before he even realized what was happening.
"Harry, c'mon, for the sake of our four years in college—just let me go this once! I swear I won't ever go against you again!"
The ancient soul roared, "Shut up! One more word and I'll kill you right now!"
Then it turned to Harry. "And you—if you want to save your friend, get me a proper vessel, or he dies too!"
"Sure. Go ahead and kill him." Harry casually picked his ear and gestured for him to do it.
They were both stunned. "Wha—you're just gonna let him die?! At least negotiate or something!"
"You two are hilarious. I never said I was going to save him. That was just your wishful thinking."
With that, he raised his hand. A silver staff appeared, topped with a crimson gem nestled between two dark golden wings.
At present, the staff was taller than Harry by two heads—it looked comically large in his small hands.
"Forbidden Magic: Genesis!" The crimson gem glowed, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
If he had a choice, he wouldn't use this spell. But he knew the origin of the ancient soul—it wasn't something that could be taken lightly.
Zayne's vision went dark. When he regained it, he found himself in an unfamiliar place—an endless desert.
As Zayne and the ancient soul puzzled over the age-old questions of "Who am I? Where am I? What do I do now?" a voice thundered from afar: "Forbidden Magic: Meteorfall!"
A massive meteor hurtled down, crashing into the heart of the newly formed pocket world.
In his final moments, Zayne chuckled. He'd brought this all on himself. If he hadn't craved supernatural power, none of this would've happened.
Looking on the bright side, at least this kind of death didn't seem too painful.
The ancient soul, however, screamed in rage: "I'll get you! I'll tear you to pieces!"
The meteor shattered the world into fragments, and the overwhelming spatial force tore every living thing into particles.
Then Harry waved a hand and sent the fragmenting pocket world into the rift created by the Devouring Soul Slate.
"Whew... screwing myself over really isn't fun at all." Drained from expending so much magic, Harry sighed in relief.
"It's been so many years since I came back… and of all times, it had to be now. Ruined my mood. I wonder what my parents are doing. If they heard I died, they must've been heartbroken... Sigh. After so many years, I don't even know how to face them…"
With that, he teleported to where his body had fallen, fished out his phone, and called emergency services to report his own death.
Then he teleported again—to where his parents were. Thanks to magic, they couldn't see him.
"They look like they're doing well. I'll find somewhere to settle down. There's still a long road ahead. I'll need a new identity too…"
Just then, he turned sharply. A wave of darkness began to coalesce, taking on a humanoid shape.
Harry frowned. "Well, well… didn't expect you to return too…"
(End of Chapter)