After a few minutes, his breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed into a calm, deliberate rhythm. The numbness in his limbs faded little by little as he grew accustomed to his new body. With effort, he reached for the white snake's lifeless form draped over him. It was heavier than it looked, cold and unmoving, but he pushed it aside inch by inch until it finally rolled free.
A voice, his new voice, whispered in his mind.
"It was worth the risk. Stealing the Soul Ghost Bau from a rank 5 Bau Master was reckless gamble, but it paid off. Even if using it on a mortal body feels wasteful, it's still better than ending up as a Hollow Snake. It's fortunate the Soul Ghost Bau can carry both core and soul."
His chest rose and fell as he lay still for a moment, focusing inward. He could feel the unfamiliar weight of the body he now inhabited, each breath strange, each movement foreign. Slowly, he began to rouse the muscles, flexing his fingers, rotating his wrists, urging his limbs to respond.
"I need to check my Core," he muttered under his breath
His eyes stayed open, sharp and steady, but his attention tunneled inward, beyond flesh, beyond bone, to the hidden depths where soul and spirit intertwined. He searched, reaching through the intangible layers within himself, seeking the quiet pulse that marked the Core's resting place.
There. A faint, steady glow pulsed deep in the center of his chest.
"I found it... So a human's Core rests in the heart, unlike the Hollow Snake's, which lies along the spine," he whispered inside his mind.
Core, a metaphysical vessel located near the soul of a living being. It serves as the anchor and reservoir for bau essence, drawn from the world itself: air, land, storm, emotion, and beyond. Not every creature can form a Core. Some are born with one, others awaken it through innate talent or rare alignment. In rare cases, it can be forged unnaturally, forced into existence using specialized types of Bau, though such methods come with consequences.
He focused his will, concentrating deeply as he attempted to sink his awareness into the Core's depths.
He focused, sinking his awareness into its depths. The Core pulsed faintly, a crystalline vessel releasing a thin river of essence, black yet transparent, like shadow made of glass. It wound through his spiritual body, branching into streams that reached every limb and nerve.
This was bau essence, raw, primordial, and alive.
As his awareness sank into the depths of his Core, he saw it clearly, a sluggish, barely-moving trickle of a river, its flow weak as it fed into a small, shadowy pond. The Bau essence within shimmered a transparent black, eerie and cold, pulsing with faint life but nowhere near its former strength.
Pulling himself back to the waking world, he exhaled sharply.
"The consequences of dragging my Core with my soul… worse than I expected. Rank 3 cultivation, gone. Back to Rank 1. And Core Saturation? From forty-five percent… down to ten."
His expression was calm, unreadable.
"No point in mourning what's gone. Ten percent, lowest possible talent. But talent can be raised."
Those without a core cannot manifest essence, nor can they cultivate to become immortals. Without this vessel, the body is like dry soil, unable to grow, to channel, to transcend. Such people are considered lesser in the eyes of the world. Powerless. In many continents, they are treated as little more than tools or servants, living at the mercy of the mighty Bau Masters and The Supreme Beings who bend the elements to their will. To be born without a Core is to be chained to fate, to others, and to the limits of mortality.
He tried to move, but his body resisted, numb, heavy, unresponsive as an infant's. After several strained attempts, his limbs finally stirred, slow and clumsy. He sat up in the echoing darkness.
The white snake's body lay coiled beside him in death. He stared at it with those hollow black eyes, empty of sentiment. Then, without hesitation, he began scraping at the forest floor with trembling fingers, methodical, as if following an old memory.
Eventually, his fingers closed around cold iron buried shallow in the earth.
A knife.
Its blade was dull and mottled with rust, as if it had been forgotten for centuries. He pulled it free, dirt flaking from its edge, and turned back to the snake.
He grasped the old knife, then dragged himself toward the white snake's body. Its surface was slick, coated in a cold slime that made it hard to hold, but the flesh beneath was strangely soft, like overripe fruit wrapped in silk.
He gritted his teeth and began cutting, slow and methodical. Blood soaked his fingers and sleeves. His body screamed with exhaustion; he was weak, frail, learning the motions of impossibly new hands, a body barely grown — barely alive. But he kept going.
He steadied his grip and pressed the knife into the snake's belly. His hands, though trembling, tightened their hold as he began slicing into its abdomen
He gritted his teeth and began cutting, slow and methodical. Blood soaked his fingers and sleeves. It was harder than he expected, this was his first time using hands in long time. He had never used hands for centuries. And his body screamed with exhaustion… it was frail, barely five years old. Weak. Slow. But he kept going.
For hours, he carved through flesh and scale,
His body sagged with exhaustion, muscles aching from hours of relentless chopping. Hunger gnawed at his insides, dull and persistent.
At last, his fingers reached deep beneath the coils, near the throat, an organ dark as pitch, slick and silent. The heart.
It was small and spindle-shaped, nestled just beneath the snake's throat. Pale and slick, the heart was cold, not moving.
He raised the rusty knife. The blade was dull, jagged with age, more corrosion than metal, but he didn't care. He sawed into the soft tissue, gritting his teeth, ignoring how it slipped in his grip.
Cut after cut, deeper and deeper, until at last the flesh gave way.
With blood-slick fingers, he reached in and tore the heart free.
Thick black blood splattered, staining his sleeves and skin. The bitter stench of death filled the air, copper and rot mixing with ancient decay.
He gripped the heart confidently with his new hand, now steady and familiar after the time it took to get used to it.
He began concentrating again, pouring his bau essence into the hand holding the Hollow Snake's heart. A transparent aura slowly gathered around it, faint and shimmering. Gradually, the glow intensified as he poured more of his power into the fragile core. After thirty long minutes of drawing and channeling his bau, his reserves had dwindled to just 1% of the original pond, it was nearly depleted.
Despite the exhaustion, he persisted, carefully weaving the transparent black aura into the heart. Then, finally, the heart stirred as if it were alive. Its shape began to shift, molding itself into the form of the white snake, only much smaller, no bigger than his palm. A faint, eerie aura seeped from it, translucent and dark.
A thin orb of shimmering energy formed, wrapping the heart in a protective cocoon. The orb glowed with a transparent black light, pulsing softly as if breathing.
As he watched the orb take shape, a demonic smile curled across his lips, his eyes gleaming with a cold, manic light.
"I've finally forged the Hollow Snake Bau," he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction.
He let out a low, bitter chuckle.
"My bau's were destroyed by the Soul Ghost Bau, but maybe that's for the best. In my current state, I couldn't refine something higher than my cultivation anyway. With only 10% Saturation and a rank 1 core... it would've been wasted."
An hour passed.
He had been trying to rest, letting his new body recover, he was utterly worn out. As he rested, his core slowly gathered Bau essence, replenishing the small pond within. The transparent black Bau essence trickled back in, filling it inch by inch, sluggish but steady.
While waiting, he kept stretching his limbs, trying to fully adjust to this unfamiliar vessel. His hands and upper body now moved freely, no longer numb, but standing remained a struggle. He pushed himself up on shaky legs, only to fall back down every time.
He glanced at his Core, it was finally full. With a determined breath, he began refining the White Snake Bau.
This time, as he poured his bau essence into it, something felt different. The White Snake Bau didn't change shape or strengthen; instead, it began to weaken, its form fading under the strain. Undeterred, he poured more and more bau essence into it, pushing his reserves to the limit.
Slowly, the pond inside his core drained completely, leaving him utterly depleted.
A wave of dizziness washed over him. "I shouldn't have drained my core completely," he muttered, struggling to keep his eyes open as a sharp headache surged through his skull.
Six agonizing minutes passed. Then, as the small pond within his core refilled, just one percent of Bau essence, the dizziness and pounding headache finally vanished.
Another hour passed.
Once again, he poured his bau essence into the White Snake Bau, repeating the same grueling process. This time, he held back just enough to avoid collapse, leaving exactly one percent in his Core. The essence funneled into the White Snake Bau, steadily wearing it down, softening its resistance.
During that hour, he had also begun to test his legs. The numbness had finally started to fade. Unsteady but determined, he managed a few steps within the dark, echoing hollow. His movements were slow and shaky, but progress nonetheless, his new body was beginning to obey him.
And then, another hour passed.
The White Snake Bau had already weakened greatly. After being infused with over five percent of his bau essence, its once vibrant aura had dulled. Now, it trembled inside the orb, curling in on itself as if trying to hide, a cornered beast losing its will.
Sensing the moment, he acted swiftly.
He raised his other hand, channeling reverse flow. With practiced control, he began drawing back the Bau essence he had poured. As the stream reversed, the White Snake Bau shimmered faintly, its resistance vanishing. Bit by bit, it unraveled into raw essence, flowing through his veins like liquid flame, pulled toward the Core.
The instant it reached the pond within, the essence pulsed. The White Snake Bau didn't return to its orb, it bypassed it entirely, diving straight into the core's pond. There, it submerged itself, basking in the black, transparent bau essence like a serpent returning to its lair.
A slow, crooked smile tugged at his lips.
It was done.
The White Snake Bau was finally refined.
A wave of relief hit him, and he slumped to the ground. His body felt like it had been wrung dry, every limb heavy, and the dull ache of hunger twisted in his stomach, sharp and insistent.
The hour that followed brought steady progress. He no longer stumbled. Each movement of his limbs felt less foreign, more natural. His steps, once shaky, now carried strength. He could walk.
And now, it was time.
Time to face the world outside.
As he approached the mouth of the hollow, dim light spilling in from above, he paused. Slowly, he turned his head back.
As he neared the mouth of the hollow, where pale light bled down from above, he paused.
Slowly, he turned his head.
There, half-swallowed in shadow, lay the lifeless body of the Hollow Snake, his vessel for over a three hundred years. Blood stained the ground beneath it, thick and dark, its belly split open, organs half-spilled, entrails sprawled in silence.
Just a husk now.
His quiet gaze lingered, unreadable, as his emotionless black eyes gave one last look to the body that had carried him through a three hundred years of torment.
The dead snake might as well have been stone beneath his gaze. Death, beauty, the self, all meaningless constructs before his vision. He had transcended such earthly concerns. What pulsed within him was singular and absolute: the drive to shatter every boundary, to drink from the well of ultimate power until even gods would tremble.
He turned his gaze forward and resumed his slow ascent toward the hollow's mouth. He didn't look back again. The hollow had nothing left to offer.
It was the dead of night, but no stars pierced the inky blackness above. The ancient, towering trees of the unnamed forest interlocked their canopies, weaving a thick, impenetrable ceiling that swallowed the sky whole.
From the gnarled roots of an ancient trunk, a hollow gaped wide, dark as an old wound in the earth. A boy stepped out, small, silent, his ash-grey hair matted with streaks of dried blood. Crimson smeared his cheeks and clung near his eyes, where the black, endless pits drank in the light and gave nothing back.
there were voices everywhere surrounding him the blood stench was very strong it attracted all kind of predators.
His expression remained unreadable, a calm so profound it felt like a precise calculation.
He walked deeper into the oppressive darkness, navigating twisted roots as if he knew every inch of the way. From the shadows, the rustle and snarls of unseen beasts lingered, yet his black eyes remained fixed forward, betraying no fear.
Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes materialized from the gloom ahead.
A wolf emerged, striking blue fur, sleek and predatory. It circled, growling, muscles coiling to spring.
The boy's gaze intensified. He concentrated, sending a signal deep into his core. The small pond of transparent black bau essence emptied a little, surging through his veins with cold light. A transparent black aura began to glow around his skin.
The wolf froze mid-leap, its eyes widening with sudden terror. Within the boy's depthless black gaze, absolute killing intent materialized. The transparent black aura became heavier releasing thicker, stronger aura from the Core around his body.
The wolf whimpered, trembling as it lowered its head. With a desperate scramble, it bolted back into the shadows.
As the wolf vanished into shadow, he drew a shuddering breath. His limbs trembled with fatigue, and the gnawing hunger made every movement a struggle.
"A mere Gloom Wolf, and yet it forced me to unleash what little essence I have." He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the rusted knife in his blood-streaked hand, the metal dull and very rusty.
"I won't last long with just one Bau. All I have is this rusted knife, a dull scrap of metal that can barely cut through a corpse, let alone bring down something alive. The White Snake Bau has its uses, but at Rank 1 its illusions are shallow, and with my pitiful ten percent saturation, I can't keep it active for long before my essence runs dry. Illusion is useless if I can't strike when the moment comes. If I want to live, I need more. I need bau that can kill. "
As his thoughts churned, a low, guttural growl rolled out from the darkness. Another Gloom Wolf stepped from the shadows, eyes glinting with predatory hunger.
Without hesitation, he let his aura surge forth, the transparent black haze spilling from his core. The pond within drained by another one percent, even though the pond within was still crawling to recover the essence he'd lost earlier. Each drop returned at a snail's pace, yet he was spending it faster than it could ever fill.
"Not good. The stench of blood is drawing every hungry beast. If this keeps up, my essence will run dry or worse, It might draw the attention of a a cored beast. I have to get this scent off me before that happens!"
A cored beast was either born with a core or had survived long enough to condense one within its body, drawing in the world's essence over years of bloodshed and endurance. Encountering one wasn't impossible, merely uncommon, but far deadlier than facing an ordinary beast. For when a core formed, bau often formed naturally in their core, granting them innate abilities that could make them ten times more dangerous than others of their kind.
After trudging through the dark for some time, he finally caught the faint murmur of running water. The sound sharpened his focus, but reaching here came at a cost, another three percent of his already meager 10% saturation essence drained away. He managed to recover a single percent along the way, leaving only six percent swirling faintly in his core. The essence trickled back at a sluggish pace, like rain filling a cracked cup.
Pushing through the undergrowth, he emerged at the stream's edge. Several beasts were gathered there, heads bowed to drink, fur rippling in the current. Others waded deeper, swatting lazily at the surface before shaking their bodies, sending glittering droplets into the air.
The moment they caught his scent, their postures changed, ears flattening, muscles tensing, eyes narrowing. Low growls rippled through the group as they shifted toward him, hunger in every step.
He didn't hesitate. A cold wave of bau essence surged from his core, the transparent black aura spilling over his skin. The oppressive intent rolled out like a stormfront. The beasts faltered, instincts screaming in alarm, and within moments they scattered into the trees, leaving the stream silent once more.
He wasted no time, stepping into the shallows and plunging his hands into the cold current. Without hesitation, he began scrubbing the blood from his skin and clothes, working quickly but never recklessly. His eyes swept the treeline every few breaths, senses straining for the slightest sound or movement.
He drank slowly from the stream as he moved, the cold water easing the fire in his parched throat, though it did nothing to quiet the hollow ache gnawing at his stomach.
The rusted knife came next. He dipped it beneath the water, rubbing until every dark stain slid away, swirling downstream before vanishing into the dark. The stench of blood still clung faintly to him, but it was weaker now, less likely to draw predators.
His clothes were soaked through, but he didn't care. He wrung out what water he could before putting them back on.
Those who had formed a core carried the world's essence within them, their bodies subtly reforged with every cycle of energy. The process toughened their flesh, tempered their resilience, and sharpened their resistance disease and chill were nothing to them.
So long as he was breathing, so long as he could keep moving, he didn't care if he was wet, cold, or bleeding. Only living to see the next moment mattered to him.
"Most of the stench is gone, good. Now I can focus on getting a new Bau. If I remember right, there's a Widow Fang Spider nest not far from here… its venom sac would be ideal for forging a poison-type bau. Killing it shouldn't be very hard part, but forging is another matter., but forging will need more than just the sac. I'll need a way to store it without being at risk of being poisoned, and I'll have to gather other potent toxins to enhance its effect and raise its grade, so the poison's power will be truly lethal."
He paused in thought, eyes sweeping the area as he scouted ahead. At the far end of the stream, clinging to slick, shadowed rocks, he spotted a patch of grave moss. It was known for its natural immunity to toxins, perfect for handling the Widow Fang Spider's venom sac. But it wasn't without risk; one careless grip, and the sac could rupture, wasting the venom or, worse, splashing him with a dose strong enough to kill.
Carefully, he harvested the grave moss, stripping it from the rocks in thick, pliable sheets. Working with quick, precise hands, he shaped it into a small nest, a cradle where the venom sac could rest without leaking. That part was settled, but one ingredient wouldn't be enough. To truly forge a lethal poison bau, he'd need another toxin to amplify the Widow Fang's venom before setting out to hunt it.
He searched for a while, scaring off the occasional beast by releasing his bau energy. Going deeper into the forest was out of the question, there would be more beasts there, and worse, the chance of encountering a cored beast. That risk was far too great in his current state.
He scouted the area, eyes scanning every spot possible, but found nothing of value. Eventually, he gave up. Staying in one place for too long in the shadowed forest was asking for death, if a cored beast caught his scent, escape would be impossible.
"I couldn't find it… nothing comes easily in this world. Having Withering Venom bau will be enough, even if its poison isn't as strong as I want."
He moved toward a nearby cave, its entrance half-hidden behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree. From a distance, under the faint moonlight that slipped through the canopy, he spotted the glinting legs of a Widow Fang Spider.
But then his eyes narrowed. Another shape shifted in the shadows—a second Widow Fang Spider, larger, its body haloed in a faint, black-translucent energy that pulsed weakly around it.
His heart tightened.
A Core… it's a cored beast.
He didn't hesitate. His steps retreated instantly, widening the distance between them. Facing it now would be suicide.
"A cored beast… too dangerous. We're the same rank even if I unleashed every drop of my bau essence, it wouldn't flinch, like other coreless beasts. The Withering Venom bau isn't worth throwing my life away for. I should abandon it and head back to the village near the forests border, opportunities will be greater, and the threats won't be the kind that can tear me apart before I even see them coming." he thought, his mind cold and decisive.
He slipped back the way he had come, every movement measured, his senses stretched thin, combing the shadows for the faintest stir of danger. From time to time, his bau energy unleashed outward in controlled bursts, each wave a silent threat meant to keep unseen predators from drawing too close.
After what felt like hour of tense, silent travel, the undergrowth thinned, revealing a grimly familiar sight, dark soil matted with dried blood, splintered bones half-buried in the dirt.
It was the remains of Bilu, the rabbit he'd slain earlier that day, lay scattered and picked clean by scavengers. He didn't pause, didn't even slow, his gaze brushing over it with the same indifference he would give a fallen leaf. In his eyes, life and death were nothing more than passing scenery.
Moving closer, he saw a glow ahead, moonlight marking the forest's edge. A commotion was unfolding there. He melted into the shadows behind a massive tree, listening.
An old woman was at the heart of it, her body wracked with sobs.
"Please, let me go! I will save Lio! He's out there!"
An old man stepped forward, his weathered face heavy with sorrow. "Viessa, I've already spoken with our best hunters. They'll search for Lioren at first morning light."
Viessa's voice shattered like glass. "You want me to wait until morning? While my grandson is still in that cursed forest." Tears streamed down her face as sobs wracked her chest. "Every second he's in there, death is hunting him!"
The old man found himself trapped in an impossible situation, his weathered face a mask of shame and helplessness. "Please, Viessa, you must understand, the hunters refuse to enter that forest in the night. It's far too dangerous."
Viessa struggled against the villagers' gentle restraint, her voice raw with anguish. "I won't wait until morning! That cursed forest has already devoured my entire family, I won't let it claim another!"
Her cries intensified. She was elderly, her gray hair clinging in wisps around a face carved by time. Yet her eyes brimmed with raw emotion and aching sadness.
The old man fell silent, his mouth clamped shut. Shame and helplessness crushed him so completely that he couldn't find words or bear to meet her eyes.
A young farmer approached, placing a gentle hand on the old man's shoulder.
"Chief, it's no use, we've tried reasoning with her countless times, but she's determined to go into that forest alone."
He stepped out of the commotion, the young farmer followed him. His gaze settling on a small cluster figure at the edge of the crowd. Behind the Chief, the boy who was the main cause of Lioren entering the shadowed forest, his eyes fixed on the dirt, faces pale beneath the stern gazes of his scolding father.
The Village Chief's steps were slow as he moved toward him: a boy with honey-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that, despite their coldness, strikingly resembled his own. He looked at Merith, his gaze heavy with disappointment and a profound weariness. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Merith, I am disappointed in you. If your mother was still with us, she would be disappointed as well."
Merith began to lift his head. "Grandfa—"
Before Merith could even fully raise his head, he was immediately cut off by the Village Chief, his voice sharp and firm.
"I don't want to hear excuses!" His voice cracked with fury. "Look at her!" The Chief thrust his arm toward Viessa, where non-stopping tears carved silver tracks down her weathered cheeks, each drop a testament to her shattered world.
"Viessa has lived alone for years, with only that boy to call family. Lioren was everything to her, her purpose, her joy, her reason to wake each morning." His voice cracked slightly. "And now..."
"She lost the only thing that mattered to her in life." He drew a shuddering breath, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And that's because of you, Merith."
"How can I compensate her for such a loss?" His voice broke as he looked down, shame weighing heavy on his shoulders.
Viessa struggled against the villagers restraining her. "Let me go! Lio is still out there, waiting for his grandma to save him!"
The villagers longed to help, but none dared enter the beast-filled forest without a Bau Master's protection.
Nearby inside the shadowed forest, behind an ancient tree, a boy absorbed every word, every sob. His mind wove plans like a spider spinning its web.
"From now on… I am Lioren," he whispered in his mind, the words cold and certain, as if sealing a pact with himself. There was already a quiet calculation in his eyes, the trace of someone piecing together a plan long before the first move was made.
Lioren was about to step toward the gathered crowd when one of the farmers, still trying to calm Viessa, spoke up, his voice carrying over the chatter.
"The Tower of Vieta is sending Bau Masters to inspect the villages, looking for promising talents to bring back and nurture within the Tower's walls.. They'll be here tomorrow. We'll prepare gifts to show our gratitude and ask them for help!"
Hearing this, Lioren stopped dead in his tracks, his expression unreadable.
"I didn't expect it to be this soon…" If he approached the villagers now, they'd sense his core instantly. Once the bau masters comes, they would take him to Vieta, a single examination would expose his meager ten percent saturation, and then, the Tower wouldn't waste resources on him. They'd strip him of freedom, chain him as a servant, perhaps worse.
Lioren stood in silence, thoughts sharpening into a cold, deliberate plan.
He wanted stay in the village for a time, quietly raising his cultivation, biding his strength. When the right opportunity arose, he would acquire another bau, something sharp enough to tip the balance in his favor. And when the bau masters finally came, he would slip away with the small foundation he had built, traveling the world in search of greater power.
But now, his plans had shifted.
"If this village can't be my shelter… then it will be my prey. I'll strip it bare, take what I need, and leave nothing for the crows."