Fein's eyes widened as the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. He looked at Imeng, his master and mentor, with a mix of awe and gratitude. "So, Master," Fein began, his voice laced with newfound understanding, "it's not just about the power of the spell itself. It's about mastering the fundamentals first."

Imeng nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Exactly, my eager apprentice. The strength of your magic lies not in the number of spells you know, but in your understanding and control over the underlying principles."

Fein's gaze shifted to the training grounds, his mind buzzing with excitement. The realization filled him with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. He could see now why Imeng had emphasized the importance of laying a strong foundation before delving into more complex spells.

Imeng leaned back, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "You catch on fast, Fein. I've seen your talent and potential from the start. That's why I've focused on teaching you the fundamentals before bombarding you with an overwhelming array of spells."

Fein's chest swelled with a mix of gratitude and excitement. The trust and guidance he received from Imeng were invaluable. It was clear that his master saw something special in him, something worth nurturing and developing.Imeng's voice grew softer, but no less powerful. "Remember, Fein, magic is like a wild river. If you try to control it without understanding its currents, you'll be swept away. But with a solid foundation and the right understanding, you can navigate those waters and channel their power."

Fein nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. He realized that the path to becoming a formidable spellcaster was not an easy one. It required patience, perseverance, and a deep understanding of the intricacies of magic.

As the sun set, casting a warm golden glow over the training grounds, Fein turned to his master, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Master Imeng. I appreciate your guidance and wisdom."

'Well, this brat still know how to appreciate. Unlike some ungrateful brats.' Imeng couldn't help but smile.

...

In the heart of the Middle Abyss, a clandestine meeting of the nine satans took place. Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mammon, and the other powerful entities gathered, their voices hushed but laced with an unmistakable edge of fear and apprehension.

The discussion revolved around a single name, a name that sent shivers down their demonic spines - Imeng. This old man, their former teacher, had become a thorn in their sides, a formidable force that posed a threat to their dominion over the Abyss.

Lucifer, the most powerful of the satans, leaned forward, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room. "Has anyone managed to locate that old fool Imeng?" His voice dripped with venom, his desire to eliminate Imeng evident in his every word.

Beelzebub, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and fear, shook his head. "No, Lucifer. We've scoured every corner of the Abyss, but he seems to have vanished into thin air. It's as if he possesses some kind of otherworldly power."

The atmosphere grew tense as each satan exchanged glances, their expressions betraying a mixture of trepidation and frustration. Imeng's ability to elude their grasp was deeply unsettling, for they knew the extent of his knowledge and power.

Mammon, known for his insatiable greed, spoke up, his voice tinged with unease. "Imeng was a master of the forbidden arts, an ancient sorcerer who possessed knowledge beyond our wildest imaginations. We cannot afford to underestimate him. The good thing is, Imeng hates his brother."

As the discussion continued, the satans' fear and apprehension mounted. Imeng's reputation as a formidable adversary had spread far and wide, even among the ranks of the Abyss. They knew that to face him was to invite certain doom, for he possessed a mastery of dark magic that rivaled their own.

Lucifer, his eyes blazing with a mix of determination and rage, slammed his hand on the table, sending tremors through the room. "We cannot allow Imeng to oppose us any longer. His defiance threatens the very fabric of the Abyss, and we must eradicate him before he becomes an insurmountable force."

The room fell silent, the weight of their collective fear hanging heavy in the air. They understood the magnitude of their task, for they faced not only a skilled sorcerer but also a man who had once been their mentor and guide.

With a resolute nod, Lucifer rose from his seat, his regal presence radiating authority. "We will hunt down Imeng, my fellow satans, and we will destroy him. We cannot allow him to unleash his powers against us, for the consequences would be catastrophic. Even if we combine our powers to fight him, it's already risky. Or we could also use our old teacher to fight against his brother."

Lucifer was afraid of power Imeng, their old teacher, possesed. Although his teacher was on only Satan-level like them. Imeng was at the peak of his realm. He lived for millenias and his accumulation was deeper than any of the thirty plus satans on the Abyss. Imeng could even fend off the Demon God for minutes! A feat that even Lucifer won't be able to achieve.

As the satans dispersed, their minds filled with a mixture of dread and determination, they knew that their confrontation with Imeng would be an epic battle, one that would shake the very foundations of the Abyss. But they were prepared to face it, united in their resolve to protect their dominion and extinguish the threat that Imeng posed.

In the depths of the Middle Abyss, a storm was brewing, a clash between ancient powers on the horizon. And Imeng, wherever he may be, would soon come face to face with the wrath of his former disciples, now turned enemies.

Imeng, the wise old sorcerer, found himself in the midst of his daily routine when an unexpected sensation tickled his nose. A sudden sneeze escaped him, causing him to pause and wonder. "Hmm, someone must be thinking about me," he mused, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He continued with his tasks, the sneeze lingering in the back of his mind. Imeng couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement at the thought of his former disciples, the nine satans, pondering his whereabouts and plotting against him. The idea that his presence still invoked fear and apprehension in their hearts brought a sense of satisfaction to his soul.