In a world full of cultivators, to be without a core meant being on the lowest rung of the ladder. The coreless were essentially less than humans for they were weak, useless. A core inside of a cultivator allowed them to channel mana from the outside world, enhancing their strengths and allowing them to perform feats beyond imagination.

I sat on a cushion, gazing out the window at the view. The curtains flowed with the wind, the sun was high and the distant peak of Heavens Glory shone bright. The fresh smell of pine wove through the room. I was not ashamed to admit that I had shed tears once I had entered the sanctuary of my room. I had a few minutes still before I had to leave.

The soft click of the door followed by softer footsteps announced the presence of my mother. The smell of flowers and something more lingered in the air. She took a seat beside me and we sat there, in silence that was slowly growing heavy.

I sighed. My eyes were empty. “This is it then.”

“But not the end,” she said.

I realised then that it was probably one of the last times I was going to hear her voice and then tears threatened to rise again.

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No! No more weakness!

I got up and turned to look at her. There were greys in her jet black hair but she was still beautiful. There was a sadness in her eyes as she took me in, a faint smile.

She leaned forward and embraced me and my tears broke through their barrier. “Ken,’ she whispered into my ears. “This is an opportunity, you are strong. Now, become stronger!”

She leaned back. My mother was a tall woman and I was taller than her. She cupped my face and rose on her toes and planted a kiss on my forehead. She wiped the tears with the edge of her robe.

“You will survive and you will make us proud.” She smiled. “You are my son after all.”

Our house sat, carved on the edge of a hill that allowed a glorious view. I would miss it. My mother had stayed behind, after strapping a pack to my back. Sword strapped to my waist.

Now, I walked my own road, my own path. I walked down the cobblestone road, taking in the houses. Very few offered words, most just stared. Satisfaction in a few, fueled nothing but by the fall of those superior to them.

Mother was a silver herself, powerful in her own right. She accepted that in a world ruled by strength, there could be no room for weakness.

Become stronger, yes mother. I would.

And soon, I neared the gates of the sect. The walls had never loomed as high as they did now. A dozen feet at least, manned by two spear wielding jades. They ignored me. Like how my father ignored me. That stoked a fire in my belly.

My steps became firmer, resolution deep within my bones. My fingers clenched into fists, nails biting deep. I would become strong, yes. Strong, stronger. I would make them proud. I did not know how. It was never heard of, to grow a core this late. But I would have to find a way. I was going to survive, no matter what.

And with that thought, I stepped out of the gate, ready to forge my own destiny.