With the glove aiding him, Pef quickly mastered the basics of channeling and condensing qi energy from the universe and into himself. 

His bones, in particular. This was a procedure excruciatingly painful, not helped at all by the hazing of his instructor. 'Don't hold it in, Aspirant! HAHAHA Cry and wail. Beg your mother for help!' 

'I will set you on fire, if you mention my dear mom again.' Pef muttered between tears. His mom was holding his hand and crying too, for some reason.

'Errr. Roger. Aspirant's parental unit is crying. Reason unknown. Situation unclear. Please advise.'  the glove said in confusion.

'Just keep quiet, glove. I can take the pain, but not your tone, and my mom's tears. Just tell me when I have absorbed enough.'

Silence followed for hours, then days, then months. 

Pain too, as the Awakening stages progressed, and the bones were infused with qi.

"You should have tried harder for my clan's method. It barely hurts!" she whispered in his hair, as she fed him the morning porridge.

Pef gulped but kept silent. No point complaining. The Legion's way always worked. 

Whatever forces existed in that tier 8 reality, where the Legion originated, they were able to equip armies with weapons able to destroy gods. Of course they would also provide training manuals and logistic support. Like the maize or the glove.

This time, their new recruit just came by alternate means. Outside the chain of command, without proper officers or regulations.

The glove itself was not an AI. Merely a powerful expert system. Unless you asked the right questions, it couldn't help too much.

And although it tried, it was a bad instructor. Yelling at recruits?

Why would you do that? 

Pef immersed himself in pain, and continued the energy condensing.

Time flew by, much slower now, because of the pain.

A year passed, before the glove spoke again. 'Energy readings are satisfactory. You have become a Practitioner, Aspirant!'

'Great. What do I practice?' Pef asked with a long breath, as the relief from pain was too sweet.

'Combat skills, obviously. Armed and unarmed, gun safety...go find a stick for now.' the glove explained in a flat tone.

Pef ignored this order, first going to hug his mom, then wash himself arduously. No more cloth wipes from his mom. It was still bearable, as a kid, but dependency was never good.

He then found a flat spot, and started warming up. 

'At this age, I was learning fencing...nothing really changes.' Pef muttered as his body was slowly regaining mobility. 

'Insist more on wrists and elbows, sir.' the glove commented as Pef girated his torso and shoulders.

'Huh? Is there a special reason?' 

'Veritas power words can recoil substantially...' the glove said, implying it would help.

'Yes, and they speak gods out of existence. How would my wrists being a gram stronger even matter?' our young hero wondered logically.

'Well, I suppose even a billion kilometers of armor wouldn't actually matter. But it's in the manual, sir!'

'Okay then! Fifty more rotations for wrists and elbows. Might help with a sharp sword, I guess.' Pef allowed with a defeated tone.

'There are no metal weapons on this continent, sir.'

'Not yet. But, high level bones would be stronger than say, iron or steel, right?'

'Not yours, sir. Not yet. An Earth rank beast claw should shatter iron. However a standard Legion neo-molibden knife can pierce even Sovereign scales without problem...'

'I was not issued a knife!' Pef yelled outraged.

'Scanning. Two Legion knives are present on this planet. However, not on this continent...'

'Let me guess, on Blue Xi continent?' Pef guessed at random. Not really.

'Correct. It appears a pair of Legion Soldiers somehow ended on this planet, a long time ago.'

'A male and a female. Very romantic.'

'Or deserters. But more likely, a tier 7 or higher contact. This unit was damaged and lost contact with its primary weapon. Even if a tier 6 entity had killed my original user, I am designed to continue my grip on the Veritas gun. It is my purpose. '

'Nothing else could have made you loosen the grip?' Pef asked with a hidden purpose.

'Speculating is useless. I only bother about energy levels. For example, a tier 6 human would be a High Tian Ascendant. Thousands of times too weak to remove my grip.'

'And tier 7 or 8?'

'Low Dian and medium Dian. They could damage me, and break the grip. Not destroy or unmake me.' the glove said proudly. 

'And a Tier 9?' Pef asked curious.

'High Dian are only theoretical existences. None have ever been recorded. If one did attack me, there would be nothing left, even the memory of my existence would be erased. So...'

'And your memory was erased, as was your user. What would happen if a Veritas gun spoke against a High Dian?' the young Aspirant wondered naively.

'Depends on the user, of course. Soldiers can take on tier 5 entities. Sergeants regularly kill tier 6. A Captain or a Colonel should be able to pacify a tier 7. And the General, no one knows.

There are no recorded instances of her ever fighting anyone, in person.'

'So, when you say soldiers can kill a tier 5?'Pef asked inward, already suspecting the truth.

'Oh no. The Veritas gun kills. The Soldier just fires at a High God, and almost always dies. We the gloves are not miracle workers. Sergeants are themselves same tier as the Elder Gods. The glove simply saves them some regeneration time.' the glove answered in a stern tone.

Pef sighed in defeat. 'Great. Even with a gun, and a glove, I still can't do much, but suicide, very spectacularly.'

'Perhaps. Some Soldiers specialize in hunting tier 1 or 2. They are known as Legion Rats. Most of them are still alive, after millions of years...'

'Pest control?' Pef guessed with amazing intuition.

'Exactly. A few of them also prefer melee weapons. Much less reality shattering Words. So, they don't scare their prey away...'

Pef was really impressed. 'They must be pretty badass, to fight Gods in melee.'

'Yes, Aspirant. They are also those who withstand Awakening for more than a month. Although I never heard of a year, much less a year and half like you!' the glove explained, in an almost praising tone.

'Wait...I endured all that pain for nothing?' he asked in outrage.

'Aspirant. You don't have your gun, or even a knife. You don't have the Legion armor, nor comrades. You will need to use your hands, to kill twelve low gods, and leave this planet.'

The young Practitioner  realized he was a bit undereqipped. 'Oh. Makes sense then...'

'Swing that stick, sir! A thousand high strokes more, and then we start running.'

And thus, Pef learned to love the glove. Training in the Legion continued, even without superiors or comrades or guns. Day after day, meal after meal.

The wooden stick broke a thousand times. 

At least his grip never faltered.

Time flew by, as Pef learned the Practice.

Perhaps other clans or sects practiced different things, maybe astronomy or medicine.

Oracles were known to practice high mathematics, to construct topological models of the future.

Alchemists were rumoured on other continents, and elemental magic was of course very highly viewed. Especially wind mages, who could fly with just a Spirit rank.

The rest of the cultivators had to wait till Sky ranks to experience flight. Not that any of the locals ever cultivated to a Sky rank, going y his mom's words. The qi was too thin here, on the Saint continent.

But the Legion? The Legion practiced killing. Very efficient killing.

'Your enemy is a god! Punch it like it is made of diamond. But much, much less brittle.'

'I am only 9 years old! If I punch this tree any harder, my fists will break' Pef grumbled, examining his torn knuckles, and noticing the weird lack of pain.

'Scanning. Comparing. Excuse denied. Aspirant's bones will not break on this tree.' the glove said in a stern voice. 

Pef sighed and punched the tree even harder. An imprint of his blood formed on the poor tree.

'Good! Just like that. Paint your enemy in blood, HAHAHA!' the voice kept sounding in his head. 

Pef punched again and again.

The day dragged on, minutes taking hours to pass. Subjectively, of course. But then, all reality is subjective.

Finally it began growing dark. Pef turned and began walking slowly towards his cabin.

'Not tonight, Aspirant. There are some animals prowling the barrier.'

'Hunting night?' He guessed a little.

'Just the basics. You got pampered in here, without any real danger.' The glove commented in a bit of ironic tone. 

"Ma', I'll be outside tonight. It's time I learned the ropes, outside the formation." he explained in a soft voice.

"Oh, my boy has grown then. You fancy some girl in the village?" his mom asked coyly.

"They are normal people mom. They'll be dead, long before I finish my Core." Pef answered with a sad head shake.

Villagers died, much too soon. Elders sometimes reached fourty.

People married as soon as they could, so they could see their kids grow up.

Old age was rare anyway. Disease or childbirth, and poisons or animals killed most of them, way too soon. And this village had it better, with the super maize of Legion origin keeping most deficiencies at bay.

"Be careful Pef! You're strong now, but not a Core rank, yet." His mother warned him, with a raised finger.

"Yeah, I know mom. It will take a few years." Pef answered with a sigh, and ran towards the forest.

His mom looked after him with some wonder. 'A few years, he says. Took me a hundred years to build my Core.' she whispered inside.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Then again, the Xi bloodline was special, everyone knew that.

Even their weakest children became Sky rankers, flying around for no reason.

And they were rumoured to have a Sovereign Elder, with a Sovereign ranked blade.

Even her lov...

She mused and remembered, as she awaited her child to return.

The kid was strong, perhaps too strong. He didn't even notice his flayed fists.

Whatever the Xi method was, it made people into enduring monsters. But to survive out there, Pef will need to be a bigger monster.

The world was cruel and evil, and even those tame villagers would rob them blind and abuse her, if they weren't kept pacified by the formation.

She has seen their greedy eyes, their lusty faces. They would chop down the maize for nothing.

Savage barbarians. One day, their greed will become too strong.

At least Pef understood their kind. They don't live long enough to remember their names.

She breathed in, sharp pain of her shattered Core acting up again.

Five years? Maybe four.

Will Pef reach his Core in time?

-----------

'Keep low, move on your fingers!'  The glove demanded sternly.

'Really, that ever works?' Pef asked a bit surprised. 

'Maybe, but it is actually too slow. Builds character, says in the manual.' the glove admitted after a second. The user was a bit smarter than its former recruits. 

'Damn it. My palm squished something!' Pef realized with a start, as he felt something get squished and wet under his palm.

'Yes, a tiny frog of some kind. It is dead now.'

'My first kill!' Pef exclaimed with proud and glory in his inner voice.

'Indeed. And the poison will take minutes to kill you in return. Rejoice!'

Pef grabbed some grass and started scraping the dead frog away.

'Too late, you're dead.' the glove decided after a minute. 

'It wasn't poisonous, was it?' Pef asked to make sure. He didn't feel dead, only tired.

Mildly hallucinogenic. But the manual says a recruit must die a thousand deaths. 999 more to go. Continue crawling, Aspirant!'

'Yes sir.'

The trip was a bit more blue after this, and Pef 'died' six more times that night.

Of course, the glove guided him around the real predators. The manual said recruits needed acclimations periods, with every new terrain. At least five days, better 20 days, before real fire operations.

Projected loses decreased substantially that way.

And so, the glove followed the Code. And Pef obeyed.

All was right in the world.

The Practice of the Legion continued daily. Soon, it reached the phase of live fire.

'Are you sure snakes will make good food?' Pef asked after catching a snake outside the formation.

'Of course, I am. Right here in the manual. Recruits will consume all types of species, available in the ecosystem. Trainers must take care to emphasize disgusting creatures as delicacies.' the glove argued logically.

Pef sighed, and bit from the still wriggling snake. 'Behold, I have become death, devourer of snakes!' he proclaimed heroically in his mind. The meat was actually good, to his surprise.

Then again, he had never eaten a snake before.

'What about cooking?' he asked the glove, as various intestines dripped from the bit snake.

It did look disgusting, yet felt like a delicacy in his mouth. The manual was always right! Then again, he was very hungry.

'Checking. Mild fire or heat exposure can sometimes alter the level of toxicity...okay. Cooking should be fine. But not too much!' the glove warned the young recruit. 

'I should have asked first! But then, I would have never tasted live snake...' Pef muttered with a dual mind about this experience.

'Time to invent fire! Oh wait, nevermind. I do have my unbreakable glove, just need a rock, some dry grass, some dry wood...' the young hero whispered inward, while stealing the gift of fire from the gods, and sparked a rock off his glove. 

'What are you doing, you neolithic savage? Use your legion kit! Don't scrape the paint! You tiny monster!' 

In a minute, a happy fire was laid up in a tiny bowl sized hole in the ground.

The snake was barely alive, but kept trying to escape, somehow predicting his fate.

Soon, the snake was fileted on a green stick, and gently cooking over the fire.

'The head of a snake contains high quantities of rare substances, like neurotransmitters and stimulants.' the glove advised him with some nefarious purpose, observing the head had been kept aside.

'And neurotoxins, if the fangs have venom in their sacs. Legion has any documented pneumatic darts?' Pef asked curious, and his own nefarious purpose.

'Yes, of course. In its billions years of history, the Legion has tried all weapons in existence. Including darts or compressed air projectiles, originally via pulmonary expulsion. In neolithic cultures.'

'Exactly. As in, no metals...' Pef agreed with a compassionate nod. Then he proceeded to extract the teeth from the snake and asembled an improvised blow dart weapon, using bamboo tubes. It wasn't a huge leap in technology, but a single step. And yet, this tiny step will soon leave a wide path behind him. 

You are the archetype of a genius neolithic hunter, Aspirant. Inventing such an elegant weapon, before the age on ten! I tremble with excitement of your next inventions...' the glove commented a bit sarcastically.

'I am considering inventing antimatter warheads to deal with those pesky gods. Problem is, bamboo tubes won't suffice as containment for antimatter...' Pef mused in deep thought. His extra memories were uncertain though, on the specifics of such weapons.

'Indeed. Quite a conundrum, for a neolithic boy.'

'It's a dilemma indeed. Can't obtain magnetic containment before having electricity and iron for magnets. Then a way to generate antimatter, which needs...I don't know, particle accelerators and lasers?' Pef asked his training glove.

'At that point you're close enough to a spaceship, and just sail yourself to your gun.'

'Nevermind then. Bamboo tubes. Bigger projectiles. Better motive force, like a very fast burning fire. Stone made projectiles, let's call them shells...and then, I shall name this invention a gun! After the Veritas gun, but without the V word.'

'Radical invention, Aspirant! A bamboo gun, however you realize a very fast fire is actually an explosion?'

'A small explosion. Nothing like atoms splitting apart. Just enough to shoot this shell at some target, like a big animal or a stone wall.'

'Comparatively small, indeed. And how would you make this fast fire?'

'Naturally present elements. Charcoal, like this one in the firepit. Saltpeter which is fermented urine, and sulfur, which present in soil around the maize...then ground and mix them together.' our young hero murmured inward, searching through the scattered memories. He had some clues, but not enough. 

'If you get the ratios right, and the bamboo tube reinforced with high tensile materials, like bone and sinews from an Earth ranked beast, you might be able to do it!'

'Nah. The logistics would be immensely complicated, and by that time, my punches would hit harder...'

'That's actually true. However, you show promise Aspirant. Not ever, in a billion years, a neolithic age recruit has ever invented black powder guns, and rarely bows or darts. Sadly, antimatter bamboo tubes will never work.'

'Yea, so sad, growing up on a planet without metals. Even flying devices, made from the skin of high ranked snakes, and filled with just hot air from a stone stove, will be difficult to make...' Pef said in sad tone, a bit overwhelmed by the gulf of lacking tools or materials. It seemed all his memories were useless, without metals.

'Actually no. A Core ranked snake will be sufficient. In good weather, the skin will be durable enough. Amazing invention, Aspirant! You'll be the first Legion recruit to fly, at Core rank. If we disregard planets with airplanes and such.' the glove interjected with some ulterior motive.

'Really? Do I get anything for that?' Pef asked with a hopeful tone.

'Historically, the Legion awards this with a promotion and perhaps better armor. Also some remuneration, if the invention's details are kept with the Legion.'

'Sounds great! I'll try to invent something new everyday.' Pef decided, as a way to get rich easily.

'Oh my. Don't! What if they find me guilty...'

'Relax. Nine year old neolithic kid. What could I invent?' Pef whispered while pointing at his scrawny self with his thumb. Gloved thumb.

'That's what I'm afraid of...' the glove complained in a despondent manner.

Time flew by, as Pef trained in the forest around the barrier.

He began trapping animals for meat and bones, snakes for meat and fangs, some birds for their eggs and feathers and meat.

Slowly, muscles began appearing on his body, as was the purpose of Practice. More importantly, the qi pathways were being formed and enlarged, to permit even faster cultivation.

Various skills, from hunting and trapping, combat and sneaking, all contributed to focusing qi energies in Pef's body.

He stopped eating maize, instead trading for medicine in the village.

His mother was wasting away, just as he was getting stronger.

The medicine couldn't actually help a shattered core, but at least it alleviated the fever and pain.

Another year flew by, as Pef kept inventing antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medicines, from penicillin to aspirin. The hut became filled with plants and animal organs, as Pef experimented feverishly. Medicinal plants, willow bark extracts and maize fungus, vrious saps and flowers, the young boy tried everything he could think of, or remembered.

Yet, without a Core, the spiritual medicine he needed was always too far.

'Glove, you know all the cures. What can cure my mom?' he asked in desperation.

'A god.' the glove answered truthfully.

Pef sobbed, and ran out into the forest. 'Something to beat up?'

'One kilometer north, a badger. Has big claws though...' the glove warned him in a serious tone. 

But Pef didn't care. He found the badger and fought it, punching it with his unbreakabl glove a thousand times and getting mauled almost as bad in turn.

Each claw strike was answered with three punches, and while this badger was a Core ranked beast, it wasn't in the Legion.

After a day and night of onslaught, the badger laid dead, and Pef next to it crying. His energy levels peaked, and crossed into the next rank.

'Congratulations, Aspirant! You have formed your Core.'

'Don't care, just stay quiet.' Pef muttered and sobbed, as his flesh began stitching itself up.

A few kilometers to the south, the barrier has began dissipating, as his mom passed away.