"It's difficult," César murmured as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
His breathing was steady, but his muscles ached in a way that training alone could not erase.
Despite all his effort, he had only managed to cultivate a small amount of aura—far from what was needed to open the Aura Veins, and infinitely far from forming an Aura Core.
'It's still far away,' he thought bitterly.
It was no wonder that even in the future, when the method to cultivate Ether became known, only a few were willing to walk this path. The road of aura offered no elixirs, no special plants as shortcuts. It demanded time, resources—meat from powerful beasts—pain, and a determination most beings simply did not possess.
Mana could be borrowed from the world.
Aura had to be carved into oneself.
César exhaled slowly and shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. Thinking too much about limitations would not change anything.
His gaze swept over the exhausted goblins sprawled across the training field—some sitting, others lying on the ground, a few leaning against unfinished wooden beams. Their bodies trembled from fatigue, yet none had abandoned the session.
Not far away stood his brother.
Gobol's shoulders sagged, his hands trembled slightly, but his eyes were sharp—burning with stubborn, unbreakable determination.
César nodded in silent approval.
"Good. He won't break. He can still walk this difficult path without giving up," he muttered with admiration.
His gaze shifted toward the rising constructions around them, and something warm stirred in his chest.
Joy.
Even with the knowledge he carried from his past life, it was not enough. He was no architect, no master builder. What he could offer was fragmented—ideas, principles, warnings learned through failure rather than mastery.
And the goblins struggled.
They misaligned beams. Dug trenches too shallow. Measured by instinct instead of precision.
But they learned.
Slowly.
Stubbornly.
And they had already come far.
César clenched his fist.
He was determined.
He would build a civilization.
He would build his own empire.
On this continent—before the humans arrived—he was determined to control it, to be ready to face them. He was not naïve enough to believe coexistence was possible.
He was preparing for the day they came.
He looked away from the constructions and began organizing his thoughts.
For now, survival was stable.
🪵 Housing: wooden homes built directly above the mana vein
🔮 Training system for mana and aura
🍖 Basic food supply: hunting, larvae, limited livestock
The foundation existed.
"So what is missing?"
"Water."
Rainwater and small streams had been enough when they were few. But new offspring were slowly being born, and that vital resource was beginning to grow scarce. In the past, aside from hunts and battles with other races, goblins often killed one another, maintaining balance and preventing their population from growing too large.
But fortunately, not far from their settlement lay exactly what they needed.
A river.
Wide.
Constant.
César's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Too perfect. There is always a problem.'
How could such a vital place remain unclaimed?
And there lay the issue.
The river already had owners—a powerful enemy.
The murlocs.
Not a powerful race in themselves. Many other races considered them pests, like goblins. But they reproduced quickly and held an inherent advantage in water. And there was something else—no matter who their enemy was, no matter how many died, they never retreated from their habitat. That was why many preferred to avoid them; fighting them was often seen as a waste of time.
Driving them away was not an option.
For them, the river was not merely a resource.
It was ancestry.
Identity.
Faith.
To abandon it would be to abandon themselves.
There was no negotiation that ended peacefully.
Conflict was inevitable.
But César saw further.
Killing them all would be a waste—or more accurately, nearly impossible. One was enough for them to reproduce again. Like goblins, they had no issue breeding with animals and beasts. Rivers were full of low-level aquatic monsters.
But César had a plan.
Normally, subjugating a race like the murlocs was impossible. Every story, every record from his past life made that clear. They were violent, territorial, and completely unwilling to bow. In most cases, extermination was the only outcome.
But César remembered something interesting about them—something he could exploit using his power of mental control.
The murlocs were not disorganized beasts.
They were hierarchical, like ants.
Fanatically loyal to their leader.
Their will flowed downward—absolute and unquestioned.
If he dominated the leader…
He would dominate the entire river.
Subjugate one—
Gain an entire army.
Warriors perfectly adapted to water, to currents, to ambushes.
A force no land-based tribe could easily counter.
César's lips curled upward, a smile forming on his monstrous face.
'If all goes well,' he thought calmly, 'I will have a new army.'
He was no longer worried about securing water for his clan.
Now he was thinking about how to achieve his first conquest over another race.