As Rifi spent his days in isolation, cultivating and training deep within the cave, with only his master Nala and the river fish for company, he had plenty of time to think. The days passed monotonously, his mind constantly occupied with the enormity of what lay ahead. He understood the gravity of the situation—if he was to stand any chance against the Devils, he needed to gain far more knowledge. His master had been an incredible source of insight, especially when it came to magic cultivation, but Rifi knew that, if he was to hold off the Devils and protect his world, he would need more.
Much more.
Rifi felt an increasing hunger for information, not just about magic, but about the Devils themselves. While Nala was a warrior of great renown from his world, and his knowledge of practical magic was extensive, he wasn't exactly a scholar. It became clear to Rifi that Nala's understanding of the deeper mysteries of magic was limited by his focus on battle and survival.
Rifi had begun asking more complex questions, like:
"Master, why do different mages have different mana densities even at the same core rank? How much denser does mana become with each rank?"
Nala's response had been typically pragmatic. "Silly disciple, of course we are all different, so our cores are different too. It's only natural that mana grows denser with each rank, just as our fur thickens as we age. Mages with lesser density have a harder time reaching the higher ranks."
Rifi nodded, but it wasn't enough. While Nala's explanation made sense on the surface, it felt too simple, too incomplete. Rifi was sure there had to be more to it—some method, some hidden technique to make one's core denser, to push the limits of mana control.
The thirst for knowledge gnawed at him, but it was becoming clear that Nala could only take him so far in that respect. This was still much further that any of the clans in his world could take him.
Rifi was not part of any of the main clans in his city-state of Hepestus, so he didn't have access to the deeper knowledge that they guarded so jealously. He could only imagine what kind of secrets the clans might possess, knowledge that could perhaps fill the gaps from what he was missing from his Master.
Even in his master's world, where Grey core mages were more common, the knowledge of magic wasn't truly in-depth it seemed. And in Rifi's world, Grey core mages were a rarity, found only in the most central and powerful city-states. This only left him wondering how much, in reality, did anyone know about mana.
Still, Rifi had to work with what he had, and Nala's guidance, though more battle-oriented, had already given him a tremendous edge. The knowledge of pathways alone had transformed Rifi's understanding of magic. Expanding his mana pathways, refining his body's ability to manage denser mana, and connecting his neurons to his mana core—all of this had heightened his power. The basic techniques of controlling mana flow and sustaining his body under its weight were essential, but they were only the beginning.
If just this knowledge from Nala's world has given me such an advantage, imagine what I could do with more information about the Devils themselves.
Sadly, that was where Nala's knowledge fell short. He had fought the Devils but didn't truly understand them. Rifi had managed to glean a few important details, however, through their conversations:
The Devils required enormous amounts of mana to open gates between worlds. They had infiltrated Nala's world by sowing deceit, turning the races against one another, and then exploiting the chaos to seize control of the mana veins. Once they had enough mana veins, they opened larger gates and brought more of their forces through. Once they no longer needed their puppets, they simply crushed the very races they had manipulated.
One thing still puzzled Rifi. "Why do they need so many mana veins, Master? What are they doing with them?"
Nala could only speculate. "Perhaps they transport the roots of the veins back to their home world. I cannot say for certain."
There were so many unknowns—how long it took to open a gate, how much mana was required, and how much time they had before the Devils struck again. The only thing Nala knew for sure was that only a few Devils had made it through the last portal. Because Nala was a White core mage, the gate had consumed most of the available mana, causing it to close rapidly. The Devils that had entered were probably Grey core or lower, but even if they were only Yellow core, they were still more than enough to kill Nala in his current state.
That meant the Devils needed to seize more mana veins before they could reopen a portal, which bought Rifi and Nala some time. But how much time? It could be a hundred years, or it could be one year. There was no way to know.
"Whatever the case," Nala had said grimly, "we don't have much time. And neither do I, my silly disciple. I have no more than a year left."
The words had struck Rifi deeply. Over the past few months, his master had become more than just a teacher. He had grown fond of Nala, despite the creature's gruff demeanor. Knowing that Nala was nearing the end of his life pained Rifi, though he tried not to show it. His master had made it clear that there was no way to save him.
Rifi had once suggested they seek help from the mages of his city-state, perhaps even the main clans, but Nala had dismissed the idea with a hiss of disdain.
"There is no healing for wounds such as mine, neither in this world nor in mine. Your clans know nothing that can save me. Focus on growing stronger. Find mages you can trust and train them. I can teach you, but the rest is up to you."
Their discussions always ended this way. There was no time to waste. Every moment was spent training or perfecting what Rifi had already learned. And with each passing day, Rifi began to piece together a plan. His earlier, naive idea of spreading the knowledge of magic to every mage now seemed suicidal.
The Devils have likely infiltrated the city-states already, Rifi reasoned. If I make myself known, they'll have me assassinated before I even get a chance to act.
No, he needed to be more tactical. He needed to build trust, to work his way into the inner circles of power, and carefully choose those who could be trusted to join him. He would need to form a secret organization, made up of mages who could prepare for the coming storm. He couldn't save everyone, but he could at least make sure that those he trained were ready.
Maybe, Rifi thought, if I'm clever enough, I can trick the Devils into approaching me. If I can get close to them, I could learn their plans, maybe even turn the tables on them.
The days passed slowly but purposefully. Rifi's training was relentless. He refined his pathways, improved his mana control, honed his techniques, and grew stronger with each passing day. Nala, though weakened, continued to guide him, pointing out where he could improve and how to make his training more efficient.
The fish meals remained as monotonous as ever, and the occasional bickering between master and disciple helped break up the tedium. But in the blink of an eye, a year had passed.