Kael settled into the lotus position, the doe's beast core cradled in his palms like a fragile secret. The forest around him had gone silent, as if the very world held its breath in anticipation. His breathing slowed—each inhale deliberate, each exhale a release of doubt. His mind emptied of distractions, sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Within his chest, the dormant clump of mana stirred.
It was the same violent energy that had nearly torn him apart before—a storm contained within flesh and bone. But this time, he would not be its victim. This time, he would be its master.
A pull.
Deep. Inexorable.
Like an undertow dragging him into the abyss.
His consciousness wrenched inward, the sensation akin to plunging face-first into arctic waters—shocking, suffocating, then suddenly weightless. When he opened his eyes again, he floated in an endless cerulean expanse, surrounded by swirling constellations of mana particles. They pulsed like distant stars, their light cold and ancient.
His soulscape.
His spectral form shimmered with ethereal blue light as he examined his hands—translucent, yet solid in this realm of thought and will. There was no ground beneath him, no horizon to orient himself. Movement was not a matter of muscle, but of intent.
A thought propelled him forward.
Another sent him spinning through the void.
The freedom was intoxicating—limitless.
Until he saw them.
Twin orbs pulsed in the distance.
His breath—if he still breathed here—caught in his throat.
Every cultivator possessed one resonance core. Always. It was the first law of cultivation, as immutable as gravity. Yet before him floated two—a truth that shattered doctrine, defied nature, and whispered of something far older than the rules of men.
The Twin Cores
The first core radiated pale blue energy, its surface rippling like sunlit water. He recognized it immediately—his confirmed Knight-stage core, still at the Beginner tier. It hummed with potential, its resonance steady and familiar.
But its counterpart...
Black.
Not the absence of color, but a void so deep it seemed to swallow the light around it. Its surface shimmered like oil, fractals shifting in patterns that made his vision blur if he stared too long.
His hand reached out, drawn by something primal.
"Don't."
Eva's voice cut through the void like a blade.
Kael froze.
"That's an Oblivion Resonance Core," she warned, her tone stripped of its usual detachment. "Dormant. Untamed. Touch it now, and your physical form won't survive the awakening."
Kael recoiled as the core's surface rippled, fractal patterns twisting in response to his proximity. This wasn't just a second core.
It was an aberration.
A cosmic anomaly that shouldn't exist.
Resonance cores followed strict evolutionary paths, each stage marked by color, clarity, and the accumulation of power:
Novice: Chalk-white, unmarked—raw potential yet untapped.
Knight: Sky-blue, its hue deepening through Beginner, Advanced, and Peak tiers.
Master: Sun-yellow, burning with the intensity of captured daylight.
Grandmaster: Sunset-orange, pulsing like the last embers of a dying star.
Warlord: Blood-red—a warning of the destruction it could unleash.
Beyond this, the rules transformed.
Golden cores required runes—ancient sigils etched into their surface, each one a testament to the cultivator's mastery.
Warlord Transition: 10 runes—the foundation of true power.
Champion: 20 runes, split between Early and Late stages.
Herald: 40 runes—each inscription a battle fought and won.
Saint: 80 runes, the core becoming a living scripture of arcane law.
Paragon: 95 to 99 runes—perfection itself, just one step from transcendence.
Yet none of the ancient texts mentioned black cores.
None spoke of oblivion given form.
Kael turned his attention back to the doe's core in his palms. Beast cores were raw, unfiltered power—crystallized wills that carried the beast's primal fury. Absorbing one wasn't just a transfer of energy.
It was a battle.
A fight for dominance against the dying echoes of a creature's soul.
He focused on the four critical conduits—the pathways that would carry mana from his core into his flesh:
The Heart Conduit (Center): The lifeline, the bridge between soul and body. A single misstep here, and his heart would burst like overripe fruit.
The Solar & Lunar Conduits (Arms): Twin channels that demanded perfect synchronization. An imbalance would cripple his combat capabilities forever.
The Crown Conduit (Mind): The most delicate—the thread between consciousness and oblivion. Failure meant brain death.
Green mana erupted from the core like a wild stallion, bucking against his grip. Kael gritted his teeth as he wrestled the energy toward his heart conduit.
The doe's will struck back.
Phantom antlers gored his spectral form, pain flaring white-hot. Blood—real or imagined—filled his mouth.
He endured.
The heart conduit screamed as impurities burned away, the mana scouring it clean. Then, like twin stars igniting, his solar and lunar conduits flared to life—perfectly balanced.
Now, the final trial.
The crown conduit resisted like tempered steel. The doe's dying screams echoed through his skull as he forced the energy upward, each inch gained a victory against annihilation.
Then—
SNAP.
The last mental block shattered.
Aftermath
Kael's physical body convulsed as the core disintegrated into ash. His eyes flew open—glowing, veins alight with awakened power.
The trial remained.
The black core still waited.
But for now… he had taken his first true step toward power.
The forest shadows seemed darker now.
Or perhaps it was his newly awakened senses perceiving the truth—
The darkness had always been there.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hungry.