Transmigration Into A World With Manna

Chapter 1

Caster carefully shut his magic book once he finished studying the Pythan Formula, then left the empty library. Up above, a huge crack sliced through the sky from the Nega-Storm. The sun, red as blood, cast its final light, making the city sweltering and desolate.

In the heart of the city, the shelter tower still stood, its feeble light a reminder of the ancient protector who had guarded Black Sim City for centuries. Yet, it also signaled the city's imminent demise.

Glassview, once vibrant with magic, is now withered due to the mana drought. In days gone by, humans wielded potent magic and even fancied themselves as gods. But now, with mana depleted, their power faded, leaving behind only dusty tomes in abandoned libraries.

For Caster, those books held little significance compared to the Pythan Formula, which still held potential with a bit of mana infusion. He had dwelled in Glassview for two decades, always feeling like he'd missed out compared to its former glory.

Strolling through the silent streets, Caster sensed Glassview's end drawing near, sending shivers down his spine. The once bustling city now languished, with dwindling populace and resources.

Suddenly, a chill swept over Caster, unlike anything he'd felt in the desert. Glancing up, he saw the sky growing darker, heralding Black Sim's demise.

As darkness descended, chaos erupted. Buildings crumbled, lives were lost, and the city resounded with mournful cries.

"It's finally happening," Caster murmured, standing outside his abode, observing the tragic spectacle unfold, feeling stunned.

Then, upon awakening, Caster found himself in a lush world brimming with mana—a stark contrast to the desolation of his previous reality. Yet, his elation was short-lived as he realized he inhabited a stranger's body, thrust into a new existence with memories of Sifa Spellbound, a once-promising apprentice in a bygone era.

Sifa Spellbound's fortunes took a sharp downturn when he was on the cusp of becoming a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice

"He's unlucky," Caster said, feeling sorry for Sifa. It was a harsh twist of fate for a young person with such a promising future to be caught in such bad luck.

But soon, Caster put those thoughts aside and focused on his body's condition. That was what mattered most to him.

Having survived the decline of Glassview for 20 years, Caster wanted mana. Without enough mana, he wouldn't have lasted even an hour in that tough environment, with deadly sand beasts, scorching temperatures, and the bad radiation of the Nega-Storm.

What kept Caster alive during those years wasn't a strong family or a bright future, but his skill with mana control. He didn't care about the weakness of his body or the debts he owed. 

Being a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice wasn't enough. If Sifa had been an Archmage, owing eighty thousand gold wouldn't have scared him. And even if he wanted to pay, they would have needed the courage to accept it.

After looking at Sifa Spellbound's potential, Caster found him promising. 

Despite being just a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice, Sifa had a solid foundation and worked hard, with his mana almost forming a mana whirlpool. The only thing holding him back was his lack of control over mana.

During those twenty years, Caster had worked hard to use mana efficiently. His control over mana had become very good, much better than Sifa Spellbound's.

After thinking about the body's magical potential for about ten minutes, Caster felt confident. He started gathering mana, guiding it carefully.

At first, the mana flowed gently, like a calm stream, but with Caster's guidance, it became stronger, like a raging river. This was an important moment for a Magic Apprentice. 

If they lost control, they'd have to start over, maybe losing hope of forming a mana whirlpool.

Many Magic Apprentices failed to become Archmages because they couldn't control mana. Sifa Spellbound had been stuck as a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice for three years because he was afraid of failing.

But Caster wasn't afraid. With his good control, he guided the mana easily, forming a mana whirlpool quickly.

This step meant he could wear the black gown of a mage, but Caster didn't stop there. Ignoring how close he was to finishing the mana whirlpool, he pushed the mana more, and it collapsed under the pressure, like a bursting bubble.

Caster wasn't worried at all. He kept gathering mana and formed a mana whirlpool, only to collapse it with a surge of mana, repeating the process.

This loop, which would surprise any modern mage, continued for ten cycles before the weak mana whirlpool finally stabilized.

Once the mana whirlpool stopped collapsing, Caster felt satisfied. He gathered some mana at the center of the whirlpool.

The mana whirlpool started rotating slowly, never stopping. Caster raised his hand, and magic runes appeared on it, followed by strong magical energy filling the room. A faint buzzing sound could be heard in the air.

Even the most critical mage would have to admit that this was a nearly perfect mana whirlpool, with impressive endurance and explosive power comparable to a top mage. What was unbelievable was that it only took a few minutes to form.

No one in this era could have done this. It was a technique developed many years later when mages' mana control reached a new level. They discovered that this rough method could create a mana whirlpool quickly and make it powerful. After hundreds of years of refinement, Caster learned this technique, which would have been unimaginable in his time.

As Caster was about to strengthen his mana whirlpool further, he heard a voice outside.

"This is all very clear! My cousin took eight thousand gold coins from me before he went to sea. But his business failed, so shouldn't I get my eight thousand gold back? I'm not unreasonable. I know you don't have money now. How about this? I'll buy the house for ten thousand gold. You can pay back your debt and still have two thousand left."

The voice sounded hoarse and annoying, like a loud duck. Caster, who was focusing on his mana whirlpool, felt annoyed.

"There's no need to be so excited about paying a debt," Caster muttered, grinding his teeth. He was thinking about going to confront that annoying person.

But before Caster could move, the door burst open with a loud bang. A fat man, weighing more than 150 kilograms, stumbled in, followed by an old man around 60. They were arguing.

"Let go of me! You're just a butler. This isn't your business!" the fat man shouted.

"Luigi, you know what that eight thousand gold was! It was a gift from the Master. Did you even contribute anything?" the old man retorted, pulling at Luigi's sleeve. His face turned red from anger.

"Is this a threat?" Luigi yelled back.

"Or you will?" Caster interrupted their argument.

"Or I will..." Luigi trailed off, realizing that his nephew was repeating his words.

Luigi had always doubted his nephew's potential to become a mage, especially after wasting so much gold on him. 

After his father's death, the nephew even begged for an extension on the debt deadline. If he had any chance of becoming a mage, would he have done that?