Under the scorching heat of the sun, a 16-year-old boy with lilac, shoulder-length hair tied in a ponytail crouched stealthily within the tall, lush grass. His lean but muscular frame was adorned with makeshift red cloth, fashioned from the soft hide of a monster he had hunted a year ago. The grass surrounding him released a minty fragrance—useful not only for cleaning teeth when chewed but also for masking his scent. This ensured that the small beast he was stalking wouldn't sniff him out and flee.
Clutched in his hands was a crude, self-made bow and arrow, crafted from materials he had gathered over the past year since being transported to this mysterious land. The bow itself was made from the flexible yet sturdy leg bones of a flamingo-like beast, which stood as tall as a small tree. His tribe had once hunted the creature and brought it back for a grand feast.
The arrow, on the other hand, was crafted from a poisonous, bamboo-like grass—one that most smaller beasts instinctively avoided. This particular plant released spores containing powerful toxins, lethal to small creatures when inhaled but harmless to humans. Because of this, the tribe had taken to planting these grasses around their village to ward off smaller predators.
With his makeshift weapon ready, the boy waited for the wind to stir the bush he was hiding in, ensuring his target wouldn't detect his presence.
Suddenly, he froze, lowering his body even further against the ground.
A scaled, kangaroo-like beast with a single horn on its forehead had turned its gaze in his direction.
Sweat trickled down his face.
Being discovered meant one of two things—neither of which he wanted.
The first: the beast would detect him, flee, and escape his grasp. That would mean he'd have nothing to offer at tonight's tribal meeting—a thought that frustrated him.
While his fellow tribesmen often reminded him that bringing a tribute wasn't necessary, that it was only expected if one had a successful hunt, he still hated the idea of contributing nothing.
Because without contributing, he felt like he was back in his old life.
Back in that hospital bed.
Helpless. Unable to do anything.
He despised that feeling.
The second: the beast would attack.
This creature wasn't just prey—it was dangerous. Stronger and faster than him. If it decided to fight instead of flee, it could easily tear him to pieces.
So, with utmost caution, the boy remained perfectly still.
Then, slowly, he lifted his bow, notching the arrow and aiming it precisely at the beast he had been stalking for hours.
Unaware of the hunter hidden within the tall grass, the kangaroo-like beast turned its back to him.
The boy stopped himself from clicking his tongue, afraid the beast might hear his disappointed noise.
'Not the back.'
His arrow wouldn't be able to pierce through its hardened scales. He sighed and lowered his bow again—the ninth time since he had begun stalking this prey.
The boy, named Yaw-yan, exhaled in frustration. He wished he had a Core Weapon at times like this. If he had one, not only would hunting this beast be easy, but he would also be allowed to join hunts outside the safe part of the valley.
A Core Weapon—an extension of one's spirit, materialized into a tangible object that only its wielder could summon and use.
A years ago, when he first arrived in this valley after dying in his previous life, Yaw-yan quickly realized that this world functioned completely differently from Earth.
Unlike his old world, which revolved around money, technology, and convenience—making life relatively safe and easy—this world was all about survival.
People, plants, and beasts were equally dangerous to someone like Yaw-yan.
Why?
Because unlike everything and everyone around him…
Yaw-yan was powerless.
That's right.
The kid who got transported to a magical world…
Couldn't use magic.
Couldn't wield a Core Weapon.
Something that everyone in his tribe could do freely.
Yaw-yan slowly lifted his bow again as he noticed the kangaroo-like beast shifting its body, turning slightly in his direction—exposing its chest to him.
Core Weapons remained a mystery to him, a phenomenon beyond his understanding.
Not only could users summon their weapons from thin air, but they could also wield them in ways that defied logic.
The chief—the man who had brought Yaw-yan into the tribe a year ago—wielded a spear as his Core Weapon. Not only was it sharp enough to pierce through anything, but when wielded by the chief, it could spew flames.
Yaw-yan would never forget the first time he saw it in action.
He had watched, wide-eyed, as the old chief brandished his Core Weapon and reduced an attacking beast to ash in mere moments.
It was awesome.
Yaw-yan had never been so excited to learn magic.
But it seemed that not only had his body been transported to this world—his streak of bad luck had followed him as well.
Because it turned out…
Yaw-yan was a Blank.
A person without a Core.
It was as if his soul had a gaping hole where his Core was supposed to be.
Even the chief and the tribe elders had no idea how such a thing was possible. In the end, they simply accepted that he had been struck by misfortune.
Yaw-yan accepted it too.
This wasn't the first time there was something wrong with his body.
But at least, unlike in his previous life…
He wasn't completely crippled.
He could move, he could run, and he could eat whatever he wanted—things that had been impossible for him in his previous life.
So even though he couldn't summon a spear and spew flames while wielding it, Yaw-Yan didn't dwell on it. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him.
Yaw-Yan took a deep breath, pulling the bowstring taut while aiming at the kangaroo-like beast. When the creature fully turned in his direction, he released the string, sending the arrow straight to its chest.
With a loud shriek of pain, the beast collapsed, writhing on the ground. Its powerful legs kicked the air with such force that it created gusts, stirring the surrounding grass and plants.
Yaw-Yan didn't dare reveal himself. He lay flat on the ground, praying the beast would die quickly. Even though it was down, he knew it could still kick his head clean off if he approached carelessly.
This world was all about survival. Even though Yaw-Yan was at a disadvantage for being powerless, he refused to let it weigh him down. At the very least, he could use his knowledge from his past life to be useful to his tribe.
A few moments later, the beast's movements ceased, its shrieks fading into silence. Yaw-Yan slowly lifted his body, cautiously peering at his target. He narrowed his eyes, scanning for any signs of movement. When he saw none, he carefully stood and approached the fallen beast.
Yaw-Yan drew the knife he had earned from the tribe elder after contributing his first hunt. He still remembered the looks on everyone's faces when he walked into the tribe meeting, covered in blood, with a successful hunt in hand.
It had been a surprise. Everyone knew he was powerless, yet he had proven that he was not only capable of coming up with ideas that benefited the tribe but also of taking care of himself. The tribe had celebrated his bountiful hunt.
That was the first time he truly felt like part of the tribe, rather than just a strange outsider with peculiar ideas.
Yaw-Yan slowly approached his prey and swiftly plunged his knife into its head to ensure it was truly dead. Letting out a relieved sigh, he reflected on the days spent searching and the hours spent stalking. Finally, he had secured his tribute.
He pulled out his knife, flicking off the blood before wiping it clean with a cloth. He sheathed the smaller blade and took out the larger one—the one he used for butchering. He couldn't drag the entire carcass back to the tribe, so he selected the most valuable parts: the tastiest cuts, the horns, and the scaled hide. The latter two were used to craft armor and weapons. Most importantly, he needed to secure the beast core.
If humans had soul cores, then beasts had beast cores.
Just as humans could summon magical weapons, beasts could wield magic—breathing fire, unleashing electricity, manipulating vegetation, and more.
The tribe didn't have many uses for beast cores. At most, they ground them into powder and tossed them into flames during ritual dances to create colorful fire displays. It was a neat trick, but not particularly practical.
Still, leaving a beast core intact was out of the question. Other beasts devoured them, growing stronger with each consumption. That was how they evolved, how they became terrifyingly powerful. Leaving a beast core behind meant allowing another creature to gain strength.
And no one wanted a stronger beast prowling the safe valley.
It took some time, but Yaw-Yan managed to secure everything into a makeshift bag. He took one last look at the fallen beast and gave a respectful bow, silently thanking it for its sacrifice so that his tribe could enjoy a bountiful tribute.
Turning on his heel, he ran toward the direction of his tribe.
He always enjoyed running through the lush plains of the safe valley. It had been a year since he first arrived in this world, and despite everything, he had survived.
He missed his parents. Missed his sister.
Heck, he even missed the doctors and nurses who had taken care of him all those years.
But if you asked him whether he wanted to go back…
Yaw-yan would probably say yes—just for a moment. Just to see his family, to let them know he was alive and doing well.
But to stay there?
No.
Silao Valley had been his home for a year now. The thought of returning to his old world felt foreign, almost impossible.
Yaw-yan turned his gaze westward, toward the vast horizon beyond his tribe's settlement. In the distance, he could see the towering silhouette of a mountain-sized beast, slumbering peacefully.
A year ago, when he had first seen it approaching, he had been stunned beyond words.
A walking mountain.
Something he never could have imagined witnessing in his previous life.
It had taken a while before the colossal beast—known as the Silao Grande—chose to settle down in its current resting place. Since then, it hadn't moved an inch.
Back then, Yaw-yan thought he was dreaming.
But now, a year later, waking up to the sight of the sleeping Silao Grande, its enormous body stretching for hundreds of meters, blending with the vibrant flora of Silao Valley, had become a part of his daily life.
This world had become more of a home to him than the one he had left behind.
Although…
He could only hope that the next time Silao Grande decided to move, it wouldn't be toward the tribe.
Yaw-yan took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp valley air, then exhaled before continuing his trek back toward his tribe's territory.
Moments Later
Yaw-yan came to an abrupt halt.
Something was wrong.
The entire area around him had darkened—as if everything a few meters away had been cast into shadow.
His eyes widened.
He had seen this before.
This was what happened whenever Silao Grande was on the move. The sheer size of the beast would blot out the sky, covering everything beneath it in shade.
Heart pounding, Yaw-yan quickly turned toward the massive creature's resting place.
Relief flooded him when he saw that Silao Grande was still there, unmoving.
So if it's not the mountain beast… then what?
Frowning, he turned to check behind him—nothing. No large beasts lurking in the distance.
Then he looked upward.
And his jaw dropped.
"W-what is that?!"
Floating above him was something massive, something he had never seen before. It resembled a ship, but it was suspended in the sky. From this distance, he couldn't make out the finer details, but one thing was clear—this was not normal.
A sense of unease settled over him.
His expression hardened.
Without wasting another second, Yaw-yan sprinted toward his tribe's territory.
He had to warn them.
He had barely covered any distance when a deafening boom split the air.
The floating object had just fired something—an explosion, like the roar of a cannon. The shockwave rippled through the valley, shaking the ground beneath him.
Gritting his teeth, Yaw-yan pushed himself harder, running even faster.
He didn't know what was coming.
Yaw-yan's lungs burned. His legs screamed in protest, but he couldn't stop.
The echoes of the explosion still reverberated through the valley, sending flocks of birds into the sky in a chaotic frenzy. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, as if the very land itself had been shaken awake.
What the hell was that?!
That massive ship in the sky…
Was it attacking?
A sickening wave of dread filled his gut.
The tribe.
He had to reach them.
Yaw-yan's breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted through the thick vegetation, his body fueled by pure adrenaline. The familiar path home blurred past him, his mind solely focused on one thing: warn them, before it's too late..
Yaw-yan forced himself forward, ignoring the ache in his muscles.
Then, just ahead—
A glimpse of his home.
End of chapter 2