It was not yet dawn when the scouts returned, running, breathless, fear clearly etched into their eyes.
"Pigmen!" one of them shouted. "A small group, to the north!"
César, who had been meditating, rose sharply. He had always known this moment would come—but he had not expected it so soon.
Still, he did not hesitate.
Several days had passed since that conversation, and César had not been idle.
That very night, he ordered his men to begin constructing fortifications to protect the village. He even prepared escape routes in case the worst were to happen.
With a resolute gaze, he ordered, "Prepare your men and come with me."
They were not many.
Five goblins who had opened mana veins. Two cultivating aura. His wife. His mother. And himself.
It was enough.
César had no intention of confronting them directly.
He only wanted to see.
To study them.
To measure the enemy.
The clash took place in a narrow clearing surrounded by twisted trees and exposed roots.
The Pigmen were masses of flesh and tusks—pink skin scarred and thick, small eyes filled with contempt. They wielded crude maces, hardened bones, weapons built to crush rather than fight with technique.
'No formation,' César observed.
"That's better. They don't take us seriously," he murmured.
There was another reason for their disorder. In this backward continent, concepts like formations, refined mana techniques, or proper tools were nearly nonexistent.
Here, brute force ruled.
And that… was an advantage.
As they advanced, the sight of goblin corpses torn apart along the path made his people swallow hard.
The impact had been brutal.
César broke down the engagement instantly in his mind.
One Pigman charged with full weight, hurling a goblin into a tree. Another raised his weapon and smashed downward without hesitation, relying purely on raw strength.
Then César saw it.
A corpse.
A goblin.
Carved crudely into its chest was a strange mark.
Understanding dawned.
'I always wondered who those unnamed enemies in the novel were… now I see.'
Excitement flickered through him.
If he was right, this could be exploited.
But unease followed.
It could be dangerous.
It could already be too late.
He pushed the thought aside and continued forward.
Soon, they caught sight of a small group of Pigmen retreating.
César turned to Asia and gave a signal.
Mana flowed around her with cold precision. A spell taught by her ancestors—once used to train young mages—hardened the earth beneath a Pigman's feet, unbalancing him.
"Now," she said.
César and the goblins surged forward.
The fight ended quickly.
Two Pigmen fell.
The rest retreated, dragging their wounded.
They were not pursued.
"Wait," César ordered.
He narrowed his eyes and glanced at Asia.
She nodded.
Blades of compressed air sliced forward, cutting through the fleeing Pigmen as if they were butter.
The goblins stared in horror at the display. Those who had once fought Asia when she was exhausted and drained of mana now felt fortunate to have survived.
When no Pigmen remained standing, the goblins exhaled in relief.
They had faced a race considered superior.
And they had won.
The Pigmen were not invincible.
But it would not be easy.
Everyone understood that.
This was only the beginning.
That same night, César did not sleep.
With Asia, Luna, and a small group of mana-core bearers, he ventured beyond known routes.
The mana vein pulsed faintly in the distance.
"There," Luna murmured.
They advanced carefully.
The Pigman settlement was less a village and more a dark marketplace—crowded with different species. All shared one trait: they emitted a strange energy, similar yet different from mana.
Chaotic.
Brutal.
Powerful.
Huts of wood and broken bone. Improvised palisades. Stakes bearing the remains of other races as warnings. The stench was constant—dried blood, grease, smoke.
Asia clenched her teeth when she spotted dark elves among them.
"Those bastards."
César remained silent.
Counting patrols.
Counting paths.
Counting weaknesses.
'They're strong… but they're not united.'
Then he noticed something else.
They, too, possessed a mana vein.
"This continent is truly rich…" he muttered.
When they returned, his decision was made.
But first—
He needed certainty.
He needed more strength.
His mana veins were open.
Only one crucial step remained.
An aura core.
Training changed.
It became harsher than ever.
Even his brother was shocked.
César trained until he bled, until the violent, abrasive force of aura began to answer him.
Only his brother understood why.
And so he clenched his fists—and trained harder.
Not far away, Sasha watched carefully.
"Incredible," she murmured. "When César first spoke of aura, I doubted him. I had never heard of such a thing."
"It's powerful," Luna replied quietly. "Strange that they say it's inferior."
Aura felt brutal. Overwhelming.
Asia nodded. In her homeland, legends claimed aura was weaker than mana.
Now she wasn't so sure.
César, unaware of their thoughts, would have rolled his eyes if he had known.
Only he understood the future.
Mages would dominate with devastating spells and extended lifespans.
Aura would fall behind.
And then—
One night—
It happened.
César dropped to his knees at the center of the training ground. His breathing turned erratic. Aura, once merely reinforcing muscle and bone, began to spin.
He sat upright.
Closed his eyes.
Focused.
Not around him.
Within.
Beside his mana core.
'It's not like mana…'
A heartbeat.
Then another.
Aura stopped dispersing.
It condensed.
A brutal, primal core formed inside him.
César shouted.
Not in pain.
In release.
The ground cracked beneath his hands.
The air trembled.
Asia's eyes widened.
"That is—"
Luna smiled slowly.
"An aura core."
The first on the continent.
By morning, the news had spread like wildfire.
The goblins saw him train again.
They saw him endure blows that once would have shattered him.
They saw something different in his presence.
No more doubt.
No more fear.
"If he can do it…"
"Then we can too."
Skepticism lingered at first. Mana was known.
Aura was not.
But war was coming.
Motivation grew.
Training became hellish.
Harder.
Crueler.
More relentless.
And it bore fruit.
The first flickers of aura appeared.
His brother was the first.
Weak.
Unstable.
But real.
'This is how an empire is forged,' César thought with approval.
There was one thing he did not mention.
Since forming the aura core, he had noticed something.
His two cores rotated independently.
They competed.
They rejected one another.
He knew the cause.
But he had no time to fix it.
The Pigmen threat came first.
It was irritating—
Not immediate.
That night, César stood before an improvised map.
The Pigman camp was marked with a red line.
Asia approached.
Luna stood beside her.
"Is it time?" Asia asked.
César clenched his fist.
Aura responded.
"Yes."
He lifted his gaze.
"Now…"
"We attack."
And for the first time—
The Pigmen would not be the hunters.