The mana vein pulsed beneath the earth.
It was neither visible nor spectacular. It emitted no light and did not distort the air, but César knew it was there. A constant, deep vibration, like the pulse of a buried heart. He had discovered that place by accident, with Asia's help.
And from the moment he found it, he decided to claim it.
The first houses were nothing more than huts: crude wood, crooked roofs, irregular walls. Nothing worthy of being called a city. Even so, they were built directly above the mana vein, driven into the ground like stakes.
"Here," César said, marking the ground with a stick. "This is where the core will stay."
Goby looked around, confused.
Ever since César had ordered those wooden houses built, he had not allowed anyone to live there except them—his brothers, his parents, and César's women.
Goby didn't mind. He would do whatever his brother ordered. Still, he didn't understand what was so special about that place. In his opinion, the best place to settle would have been closer to the river. With some hesitation, he asked:
"Why not closer to the river? It's easier to live there."
César shook his head.
"The river gives water. This…" He stomped on the ground forcefully, as if imagining himself standing atop the very mana vein, and said in a deep voice, "gives the future."
He explained no further. Not yet.
The goblins in the group—just over a dozen—moved cautiously around César.
Like most creatures on the continent, those goblins used mana in a crude, instinctive way. But soon, all of that would change.
That night, César sat by the fire with a sharpened branch and damp earth as his canvas. He drew lines, circles, and simple marks. They were not runes or spells.
They were ideas.
Mana is everywhere, he recalled.
But not everyone can touch it.
In his past life, power had always been in the hands of others: money, influence, physical strength. Here, strength was the true currency—and having mana meant power.
"Not everyone can practice," César murmured, narrowing his eyes. Although every living being possessed mana, few had the quantity and capacity needed to use it, and far fewer to open their veins.
At first, he planned to teach how to open mana veins first. Those who succeeded would leave the caves and begin living in the Wooden Houses.
But not everything could move at the pace of his plans.
The arrival of the group of worshippers had changed everything.
He had no time to wait, nor to search for talents one by one.
So he decided to allow all the goblins to begin moving in. With the help of the enormous amount of mana emanating from the vein, he would guide them in opening their veins.
Perhaps this method would produce many more mages… but few with true talent.
Even so, César preferred numbers over quality.
The next day, he gathered the goblins.
He did not raise his voice. He did not shout orders. He simply spoke, and that was enough for the murmuring to die down.
"Beneath these houses, there is mana," he said. "Many of you may not understand what that means right now, but soon you will."
Some glanced at one another, distrustful.
"My mother, Luna, and my wife, Asia, will teach each of you the process to open your mana veins," César continued. "And those who succeed… will change."
Gab, César's father, spat on the ground. His attitude was harsh, but there was respect and admiration in his eyes when he asked:
"And what do we gain?"
César looked straight at him.
"Rank."
The word fell heavily.
"Those who open their path in mana will have better houses, better food, and better protection. Not because they are stronger now… but because they will be the future of the clan."
Goby frowned.
"And those who can't?"
César did not take his eyes off the group.
"They will work. They will live. They will eat. But that is all."
There were no protests.
Only silence.
For many, things had not changed much. In the goblin tribe, it had always been normal for the strong to have everything and for the weak to bow their heads. But now there was a new opportunity: for the physically weak to rise… and for the strong to be the ones who had to bow.
The hierarchy had been born.
That same afternoon, César descended alone to the point where the vein was most intense. He sat down, crossed his legs, and placed his hands on the earth.
He tried to open his remaining mana veins.
The flow was violent, untamed. If someone without preparation forced it, their body would collapse. César understood that immediately.
That step was nothing special. Barely the beginning of a mage. A foundation.
But it was enough.
If he managed to be the first goblin to do it—if he showed them that goblins could do it too—everything would change.
Both the lycanthropes and the dark elves who practiced this system had been on the continent for years. It was not strange that many had heard of this way of cultivating.
Many tried.
And many failed.
In part, because the elves and lycanthropes were not willing to spend their time and mana guiding others. Goblins and other devilhumans tried blindly… and failed.
Thus was born the idea that only those races could cultivate.
But all of that would change once he managed to create a group of mages.
They would be the foundation of his future.
The cornerstone of his empire on this continent.
César opened his eyes, resolute.
For the first time since his reincarnation, he did not think only about surviving.
He thought about ruling.