56th of Season of Fire, 56th year of the 32nd imperial era

After defeating the pack of raptors, Newt had two heart demons remaining, his old sparring partner and his uncle, who still hadn't made an appearance. The fact that he hadn't even caught a glimpse of his uncle scared Newt more than the raptors and Plowson combined.

Newt waited in his cavern for hours, practicing and altering the magical abilities he had learned from Magmin, but neither heart demon appeared. Exhausted from the exertion, Newt slept. He awoke and ate the rest of his meat before going up for bread and water.

After sating his hunger, Newt reentered his realm. He appeared inside the Magmin Pine forest, Plowson nowhere in sight. There was a change, however.

"This looks like my realm," a familiar serpent hissed. "How did I get here instead of returning to the solid rock I was evolving under?"

"Magmin?"

"Newt? Well, this is a surprise! What are the odds? First, you stumbled upon my realm, and here I am inside yours now."

"Where are you?" Newt feared the answer. Was it possible he had developed a heart demon based on Magmin?

"Right here, examining your Magmin Pines."

Newt looked up to see Magmin. The serpent had sprouted pterosaurian wings and no other limbs, coiling around a tall branch, scrutinizing Newt's Magmin Pines.

"They seem taller than mine, and why did you make the lava flow in such a weird pattern? It's bound to slow the flow."

Newt hadn't considered the fact that altering the lava-bed would slow down the passive mana generation.

It shouldn't, right? I mean the volume of lava that goes down the hill remains the same, so I didn't slow it, did I?

Doubt crept up on Newt. He had remade all four cardinal flows of lava rolling down his volcano back when he was trapped in Magmin's secret realm. He could redo them again, he supposed, but the portion flowing through the unsculpted part of his realm didn't seem any faster than the lava passing through the irregular channels.

Suddenly, the winged serpent flickered and disappeared.

Newt stared at the spot where Magmin had vanished and waited, but the serpent didn't reappear.

What was that? How did he come here? He's certainly not a heart demon. Those can't just fade out and disappear, unless that's their ability.

Newt snorted and turned around, mentally thanking Magmin for planting yet another seed of doubt into his mind. Being impatient and adding any capability other than filling the first realm with mana gathering constructs was a fundamental mistake careless awakened made. Newt knew all that.

But am I making that error? Newt didn't think so, but still sat down to think, calculating. His passive method of gathering mana was superior, drawing as much as his surroundings had to offer. An upper limit probably existed, but Newt believed he wouldn't reach it before at least the third realm.

Even if it's a bit slower, which it isn't, I can safely keep the things as they are. Now, let's see which layer I'm at.

He willed a tiny crack in the granite connecting the line of calcified trees, sending it straight towards the realm barrier. Each ring in the first realm was a thousand yards wide, so following the line until it dispersed while counting his steps informed Newt he had reached the ninth layer, with the crack extending into the tenth.

He was so excited that he momentarily forgot there was only one way for a change to stick in his realm.

"Peak of the tenth layer?" He gulped as the realization struck him. "I can break my barrier at any time."

Newt looked back at the empty expanse. Advancing at that point would have crippled his future progress. Just looking at it made Newt dizzy. Two moons. Two moons of perfect undisturbed sculpting awaited, just to set up the Magmin Pines, followed by another two to three weeks to fashion the fire glyphs.

He ran his fingers through his hair, despairing just from imagining the monumental amount of labor ahead of him, when he saw a humanoid shape jogging down the volcano. He immediately recognized Plowson's muscular physique.

Well, at least I can get rid of him, then I have to find my uncle and defeat him. I wonder whether Magmin would help and what impact that would have on my progress?

Newt still had a while to prepare himself. Plowson kept his pace relaxed, just as Newt remembered. The man never hurried because his young lord was waiting, and lashed out like a viper in the practice yard, showing not a hint of respect for his distant cousin.

Once Plowson was two dozen yards away from Newt, the young man covered himself in blistering lava, preparing himself for battle.

"Watch out, m'lord!" The words made Newt's skin crawl. He didn't fear them at all, never did, but in the last few days, he had come to loathe them.

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Just like always, time seemed to slow. Newt let the padded leather strike his nose. Then the unexpected happened — the invulnerable granite nose, which Newt could smash against a wall without consequence, broke. The fire, which should have incinerated the toy sword, did nothing. Instead, the young man fell backwards and awoke in the mine the moment his head struck the rocky ground.

Long ago, Newt would have raged and cursed. The day before he defeated the raptors, he would have muttered disgruntled obscenities, but with the experience from defeating his first heart demon, Newt came to understand certain things.

So, I have to defeat him without receiving a blow. Again. I wonder whether Uncle will be like that too. Am I unique, or do all awakened have heart demons which defeat them in one blow? Newt had a vague, and very uncertain, guesswork of a plan. If he feared the spar, rather than Plowson, who only ever annoyed Newt, he would have to spar and win.

He reentered his realm, fashioned a pair of salamandra's fangs for himself, and headed to the edge of the forest, where Plowson would have an easier time finding him. Newt hoped he would have the advantage of the higher ground, and an easier access to the taller man's head.

Plowson trotted over half an hour later, and Newt absentmindedly noted he would have lacked the time to erect a new Magmin Pine. Plowson approached, seemingly unfazed by all the running. There was no sweat on his brows, no sign of strain blemished his bored smirk. Newt watched him approach and kept thinking how punchable that arrogant face was.

"Watch out, m'lord," Plowson shouted and slashed, lagging a full second behind Newt's attack.

Newt's sword speared the man's chest, but Plowson ignored the wound. In the slowed time, Newt saw no blood flowing out of the wound as Plowson further impaled himself on Newt's granite sword. Instead, the leather-encased padding crawled towards Newt's nose, the youth powerless to stop it.

Damn, Newt thought as his nose crunched, and as he flew back.

Do I need to hit his head like he does mine? Newt closed his eyes and reopened them a quarter of an hour later. Striking Plowson's head did not help.

With the next idea in mind, Newt reappeared in a barren patch of his realm. He started erecting thick columns to hamper his heart demon.

Ten minutes later, the trotting sparring partner appeared, jogging down hill towards Newt's gauntlet. The youth chose to fight without a weapon. He was twice as strong and fast as Plowson, he could snatch the sword and defeat him unarmed.

"Watch out, m'lord," Plowson shouted, surprising Newt. A column separated them, and there was no way he could strike him. At least, that's what Newt believed.

The sword bent, its blade extending and twisting around the column like a serpent. Despite Plowson lacking the line of sight, the leather unerringly found Newt's nose. Time crawled, and curses swarmed Newt's lips as the padding smashed into his face. The nose crunched, and Newt flew back, striking a thick column with the back of his head, and awakening yet again.

He drew a deep breath. "This is getting annoying."

He rubbed his nose despite himself, then stretched his arms upwards, popping his back.

Should I defeat him at range? Shoot him with a sling or riddle him with javelins and be done with it?

Lacking better ideas, Newt decided to give it a try. He reappeared in his realm, erected a platform to stand on, and conjured two dozen javelins. He threw and tested them, recreating one as soon as he threw it. By the time Plowson appeared, Newt was certain he could hit him from a dozen yards away.

The brawny man approached, and Newt tossed the javelin at his head, but his old sparring partner tilted to the side and the projectile passed him harmlessly. Newt threw the next one at Plowson's stomach, the man tried to sidestep, but the javelin pierced his flank, and straw fell out of the nasty gash.

Newt watched in bewilderment when the dreaded cry came.

"Watch out, m'lord!"

The training sword extended once more and smashed Newt square in the nose. He flew off the platform and smashed his head against the ground.

He's a straw puppet? Newt thought in the dark mine, trying to understand the implication of his discovery. He failed.

"Is it because he's dumb, or did I think him a dummy?" he muttered, but that was the best he could come up with.

Left without a choice, Newt tried again, this time armed with a crude sling. Stone after stone struck Plowson. Straw bled from his head and chest. By the time he reached Newt, the puppet lacked an arm, a head, and a portion of its torso. Still, a disembodied voice shouted, "Watch out, m'lord," and his sword unerringly found Newt's nose, sending him to the ground.

It's not about Plowson at all, Newt realized his trauma came from the sword and from the shout. He never found the man behind the weapon scary; the servant was merely uncouth and looked like a thug.

Newt tapped the rock floor with his nail, thinking.

I should try breaking the sword.

He reappeared in his realm, again within the forest, but the environment mattered little. The trees were gigantic, spaced so far from each other, the forest was hardly any different from an open field. Newt summoned his sword and inspected the weapon.

This won't do. The weapon was too short, and while it was good at slashing, he wasn't certain it could cut the training sword. Newt discarded the weapon and made another, forming a heavy-headed halberd. The weapon was basically a massive ax, perfect for chopping wood.

Newt brandished it, slashing and stabbing at the air several dozen times to confirm he could use it, then frowned in disappointment. Using it felt no different from wielding a sword, which was impossible.

I will need proper training with weapons in the real world. Any techniques I learn here will be useless or worse.

Plowson took half an hour before he found Newt. The always identical trot, which had annoyed Newt, suddenly had a rational explanation, as did the smirk. The puppet was designed to draw attention from the real heart demon, to conceal it from Newt, and it had done a good job for a long while, giving Newt a harder time than the raptors.

Once Plowson was a few dozen feet away, Newt dashed towards him.

"Watch out, m'lord," the servant shouted, but Newt ignored it and struck. Newt's head magically turned towards the training sword, almost making him miss. Almost.

The granite ax struck the wooden sword, and the wood snapped. In the slow flow of time, Newt watched the shattered blade approach, heading straight for his nose. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the blow to come, thinking what he should do differently next time, when the broken training sword started flaking.

A wave of dust struck Newt's face as he clenched his eyes shut. The blow never came. He was there, standing in the middle of his forest, the second heart demon defeated.

Newt opened his eyes and smiled. The first thing to cross his mind was not relief or thrill of victory. Instead, he felt silly. It had taken him so long to realize what he needed to do. The moment passed, and he focused on the future.

One more, then I can break the realm barrier and confront Uncle.

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