The Life of a Battlemage

The encampment was a hive of activity, buzzing with the tension of impending battle. Reinforcements had arrived swiftly, nearly tripling the camp's numbers overnight. Mages in fresh armor, battle-hardened veterans, and eager Clan attack squads gathered, all looking to prove themselves and earn the favor of the City Lord. The air was thick with the hum of mana and the clatter of preparation.

Rifi stood alone now, the last of his original team still in the encampment. Rudeus and Luciliana had been sent back to the City-State to recuperate, their injuries too severe for them to remain on the frontlines. But before they left, the team had been rewarded with a hundred mana stones for their victory over the tier-four panther—a sizable reward, though less than what the carcass would have fetched in the market due to heavy service taxes. Still, the hundred stones were enough, equivalent to four months' pay for a Purple core scout.

They had agreed to divide the reward equally—twenty mana stones each, including shares for their fallen comrades. Rudeus had promised to deliver Julius' share to his mother, while Luciliana would return with Albus' portion to their village. It was a small gesture, but it was all they could do for their fallen brothers-in-arms. Before they parted ways, the three had made a quiet promise: to meet again in the City, if fate allowed. Now, Rifi remained, preparing for the battle ahead.

A week had passed since the fight with the panther, and still, the beast horde had not arrived. Speculation ran rampant in the camp—some believed a beast leader had emerged, slowing the horde's advance as it gathered more creatures under its command. Others thought something even more dangerous was at play, but no one knew for certain. What was clear was that the delay granted Rifi precious time to cultivate his magic.

His reward was nearly spent. The mana stones he'd received had almost all been absorbed, and he now stood at the late stage of the Brown core, just on the edge of a breakthrough to peak core. Most mages would take weeks, even months, to absorb that many mana stones, but Rifi's body seemed to pull the mana in at an alarming rate, a change he had noticed ever since the life-and-death battle with the panther. Whether it was the result of his near-death experience or the constant tempering of his body, Rifi wasn't sure, but he wasn't complaining.

Still, he couldn't afford to neglect his duties. Though he hadn't been assigned to a new team, he had been tasked with helping strengthen the camp's defenses. Alongside the other legionaries, Rifi spent hours building sturdier palisades and digging deeper moats, not just around the encampment, but extending outward to fortify much of the northern border. It was vital to hold the line here. Failure would mean the horde spilling into the City-State's territory, destroying farms and villages, threatening the lives of countless civilians. The City Lord understood the stakes, which was why he had sent an Orange core elder to oversee the defense, along with rumors of several battlemages being stationed nearby—a first for a beast horde of this magnitude.

Rifi had just returned from a night shift, his body weary but his mind focused. He was about to begin his cultivation when the alarm bells rang out, piercing the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, he grabbed his gear and rushed to his assigned position. He was stationed a few kilometers outside the main encampment, in a thinly spread line of forty mages. Five were Purple core, the rest—like Rifi—were Brown core or below. They all knew their orders: slow the horde's advance and hold the line until the attack squad arrived.

As the ground began to rumble with the approach of the horde, the Purple core mages acted first. They unleashed their long-range spells, filling the sky with dazzling trails of fire and ice. Fireballs roared through the night, each one followed by shimmering icicles that hissed as they sliced through the air. The first beasts hit the palisades with sickening thuds, impaled on the spikes as the magic rained down upon them.

Rifi's sword crackled with lightning as he threw himself into the fray, his blade cutting through low-tier beasts like butter. The arc of lightning that danced along the blade illuminated the darkness, casting brief flashes of light that revealed the carnage unfolding around him. Screams for help echoed in the night, some cut off before they were fully voiced. His comrades fought fiercely, but even with the lesser beasts attacking, there were casualties. It was chaos, and yet Rifi's focus was razor-sharp. His sword moved with lethal precision, the lightning pushing his body beyond its natural limits.

But even as the last of the beasts fell, Rifi's mind remained unsettled. The cheers of his fellow legionaries rang hollow in his ears. This wasn't the real battle. It couldn't be. A probing attack, Rifi thought grimly, meant to test their defenses. The real battle had yet to come.

Will we even last long enough for the attack squad to arrive? Rifi wondered, his eyes narrowing in thought. He needed to recover his mana, and fast. The next wave could be upon them at any moment, and there was no telling how much stronger it would be. He had a gnawing sense of dread that something far worse was on its way.

He withdrew from the others, retreating to a quiet spot to cultivate. Two remaining mana stones glowed in his hands as he began to absorb them. He could feel the mana flooding into his core, but his progress was stalling. He had reached the peak of the Brown core. Finally, he thought, wiping the sweat from his brow. But this was only the beginning. The hard part still lay ahead—he needed to break through to the Purple core.

Rifi sighed, knowing the challenge that awaited him. Each rank in magic was exponentially harder to achieve than the last. For many mages, breaking through to a new core rank was the struggle of a lifetime. Some even risked a second Awakening, though most who attempted it died when their core shattered under the strain.

His brow furrowed in thought. I have enough mana stones left... and with the ambient mana circulating naturally toward my core, maybe I can push through. The idea was dangerous, but he had no other choice. This battle could be his last if he didn't take the risk.

Rudeus' words echoed in his mind: We can only blame ourselves for being too weak. Rifi smiled grimly. "You're right, Captain," he muttered. "I can't afford to hesitate. Not now."

He made up his mind. Drawing the last of his mana stones, Rifi began to absorb them, pooling the mana around his core. The pressure built slowly, forming a whirlpool of energy within him. His core strained under the weight of it, refusing to budge. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he grit his teeth, focusing all of his willpower on compressing the mana.

The pain was excruciating. His body screamed in agony, every nerve alight with fire. If he lost focus, even for a second, the mana would expand, and his core would shatter, killing him instantly. But Rifi didn't stop. He pushed himself to the brink, his vision blurring as he fought to maintain control.

Then, just as his will began to waver, the mana in his core shifted. The familiar brown hue changed, deepening into a rich purple. The pain vanished in an instant, replaced by a profound sense of calm. A small, triumphant smile crossed Rifi's face—just before his body gave out and he lost consciousness.