The black cores within us had become steady, dense, tempered like iron under countless blows of the hammer. But iron alone could not shape destiny. To grow, we needed fire. And in this world, fire was found only in the crucible of blood and survival.
It began with the beast.
We had ventured deeper into the wilds than ever before, Kael and I. The forest stretched wide and shadowed, its canopies thick with the cries of unseen predators. Even the air felt heavy, pulsing with hidden energy. I could feel it prickling against my skin, pressing against the pitch-black core within my chest.
"Something's watching," Kael whispered. Her hand hovered near her side, where her wind-blade could manifest in an instant.
I closed my eyes and listened—not with ears, but with the resonance I had honed. The stillness trembled, broken by the weight of a presence. A predator.
The ground shook once, twice. Then it emerged.
A beast taller than three men, its body like a tiger but armored in jagged plates of bone. Its eyes glowed crimson, and when it exhaled, the air carried a scent of blood and iron.
Kael inhaled sharply. "That aura…"
It pressed against us like a storm, thick and suffocating. Stronger than the wolf we had barely survived before. Perhaps strong enough to rival even a Level One Natural.
"Stay sharp," I muttered. My core pulsed in answer, the pressure rolling outward to meet the beast's. For the first time, I felt its aura not as an enemy—but as a language. A pattern of strength woven into the air.
Then it roared, and the battle began.
The beast lunged, claws carving trenches in the soil. I leapt aside, dragging a boulder into its path with my telekinesis. It smashed through, shards spraying like knives, but the pause gave Kael her opening.
"Wind Slice!" she cried, her hand slashing down. The air answered, forming an invisible blade that carved across the beast's flank. Blood welled, dark and steaming.
But the beast did not falter. It spun, tail whipping with the force of a felled tree. Kael was fast—her winds carried her out of reach—but the shockwave sent her sprawling.
I rushed forward, sword in hand, telekinesis gripping nearby stones. They hurled at the beast in a storm, pelting its armor until cracks spiderwebbed along its plating. Still, it pressed forward. Its claw descended toward me, weight and fury enough to crush bone.
For an instant, the world slowed.
I felt its movement ripple through the air, its intent crashing like a wave. My core resonated with it, my body moving before thought. Sword raised, I deflected the claw just enough to survive. The impact rattled my bones, sending me skidding, but I lived.
Kael was already back on her feet. "My turn!" she shouted. The winds surged around her, spiraling up her legs, propelling her like a storm-tossed arrow. Her hand thrust forward, and from it unfurled a rope of compressed air. It coiled around the beast's foreleg, biting into the cracks my stones had made.
The beast roared, staggering.
"Now, Sam!"
I didn't hesitate. My sword rose, wrapped in the invisible hand of my telekinesis. Both together—arm and will—brought the blade down. It struck the beast's neck with every ounce of force I possessed.
Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. The crimson glow in its eyes flickered, dimmed, and finally died.
The beast collapsed, shaking the earth.
For a long moment, silence reigned. My chest heaved, my arms trembling. Kael leaned against a tree, blood dripping from a cut on her temple, her breaths ragged.
Then we laughed. Exhausted, incredulous, alive.
"We… we did it," Kael whispered.
I nodded, staring at the corpse. Its aura lingered faintly, a shadow of the storm it once was. And then I realized—we could take it. Not just the meat, not just the hide. Its strength itself could feed us.
"Kael," I said, my voice low. "We'll eat it."
She blinked, then grinned. "I thought you'd never suggest it."
The meat was tough, bitter, but rich with power. We roasted it over fire, the fat spitting and hissing, and each bite sent warmth coursing through my veins. I could feel my core stirring, the dense black glow thrumming faster, hungrier.
Kael gasped, clutching her chest. "Sam… it's changing."
I felt it too. My core swelled, compressed, then swelled again, as if straining against invisible bonds. Pain lanced through me, sharp and tearing, but beneath it was a clarity unlike anything I'd known.
The black cracked.
And from within, red seeped outward—slow at first, then blazing, until my chest pulsed with a crimson glow. Kael's eyes shone with the same fire.
We had broken through.
The Red Core.
For days we refined it.
At first, our power spilled wild, uncontrolled. My telekinesis surged without restraint, hurling objects I hadn't meant to touch. Kael's winds tore trees from the soil when she only meant to stir a breeze.
We bled, sweated, and disciplined ourselves. We practiced compression—folding the crimson glow inward until it thrummed steady and silent. Each success felt like breathing fire without being burned.
And in our refinement, we grew stronger.
My sword moved as if weightless in my hand, yet carried the force of a storm when I swung. With telekinesis, I no longer lifted objects—I wielded them as extensions of myself, turning even loose stones into dancing blades. My prediction sharpened, patterns unfolding around me like threads in a web.
Kael's wind became artistry. She shaped blades so fine they could slice a leaf in two without disturbing the air. Ropes of air coiled like living serpents, binding targets with invisible force. And her newest creation—a swirling disc of compressed wind—carved through wood as if it were paper.
But perhaps the greatest lesson came from the beast itself.
Its aura, heavy and crushing, lingered in my memory. The way it moved—not with speed alone, but with weight, presence, inevitability. I mimicked it, releasing my core's pressure in waves. Kael staggered when I unleashed it on her, clutching her head, the phantom of the beast's roar echoing through her.
"Too much," she gasped. "But… effective."
She, in turn, mimicked the wind's whispers. She closed her eyes, letting currents brush against her skin. Then she smiled. "The wind tells me when you move. I can feel your steps before you take them."
Together, we learned. From the beast, from the wind, from the resonance of life itself.
By the end of the season, our Red Cores thrummed steady, refined to a brilliance the villagers would never suspect. Our movements were sharper, our strikes heavier, our minds calmer.
The Hollows we had been were long gone.
We were no longer empty.
We were no longer forgotten.
We were Echoes, rising.
And the crimson light in our cores burned quietly, a spark that would one day blaze into a storm.