74th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd imperial era

The inferno around Newt dissolved, disappearing like a mirage. The cool, gloomy mines replaced it, twin ghostly stars glowing in all their glory, promising the bounty of Magmin's third realm.

Newt stared at them, greedily drawing breath as he patted himself, searching for any signs of injury. His body was whole, but a pulse of pain spread out from his throbbing glabela, echoed a split-instant later by his heart. The pressure inside his realm grew so much it had become a physical pain. Mana gushed out of his dualcore, so intense, it would have damaged a commoner's body in seconds.

Despite his pain and exhaustion, Newt sat, closed his eyes, and entered his realm. The mana within was so dense that it squeezed Newt's form, crushing him with the pressure of drowning in the dark depths. After a staggering moment in which he oriented himself, Newt found himself standing two dozen yards from the crater. Unlike when he had taken Blackfist's potion, lava wasn't gushing from the volcano. It flowed normally, but the air shimmered and trembled, signaling danger Newt's realm was in.

He abused Fireburst, half sprinting, half flying down the slope, reaching the realm barrier in no time. The near-invisible wall of force shook, tiny cracks spreading across its surface, and Newt sensed its desire to break, and the realm barrier's push against his will.

Sculpting my realm ought to spend some of the excess mana.

Newt hurried, forming lines, ditches, and mounds following Blackfist's diagram. The land absorbed the mana greedily, structures forming at merely a tenth of the original time Newt had needed when sculpting his ninth layer. Instead of the expected eight days, Newt finished his labor in less than one, but the strain on his mind and body sapped all his strength.

The instant he awoke from meditation, Newt collapsed, along with his realm barrier. He fell asleep and crumpled on the rough rock floor before he even hit the third realm.

Newt awoke unaware of how many hours or days he had spent unconscious. All he knew was that he should have been hungry, but he wasn't, and that he should have suffered from sleeping on rough stone, but his body felt brand new.

Newt smiled. He had stepped into the realm of knight initiates, his physique pulling further away from the limitations common mortals suffered. With so much mana reinforcing his body, he didn't need to eat every day, and could make do with only two-hour-naps every day while remaining healthy and well rested.

Newt stood and stretched, his spine and joints popping. He sent a surge of fire mana through his body and formed Magmin Scales, then pushed them away from his skin. They inched forward until the paradoxical field which burned heat itself stood a foot away from Newt, painting his world red.

Finally, I can project mana further away from my body. Newt dismissed the spell with a smile, and a wave of pleasant heat washed over his skin.

Unable to wait another moment, Newt entered his realm, but found it frustratingly calm. After the tribulation of mana overload, and the turbulence of consuming Blackfist's potions, the realm was plain. Lava flowed languidly, crystalline pinecones growing imperceptibly on the towering calcified trees.

He was about to inspect the seals when a rumbling voice drew his attention.

"Well, hello there, little newt. You are finally normal-sized for your species."

Newt looked up, face to face with Magmin. The not-so-little guy's body had grown, matching the psychotic titanoboa's size. His wings had grown along with the rest of the body, forming giant sails and turning Magmin into one terrifying creature.

"Hello, Magmin, how are you feeling?" Newt tried to hide his nervousness at the pressure he felt.

Even though they were inside his realm, where he held an advantage, he wasn't certain he could handle Magmin if the flying serpent attacked. At least not until he pulled further apart with spells and skills he knew.

That's assuming Magmin didn't unlock the abilities he had at the second realm.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

With that thought, Newt checked Magmin's realm with his mindcore, and found him firmly in the third. He was stronger than Newt, and the young man couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Magmin killed him. Would it act like a heart demon and possess his body, turning Newt into a heart demon?

The winged serpent considered Newt's question long enough to let his mind wander, entertaining troubling thoughts.

"I am well," Magmin said finally. "Better than before. Thank you for helping me kill that sharpbeak, but we still need to find a way for me to leave your realm."

You're a ghost. I have no idea how to get rid of you.

Newt tried to will Magmin out yet again, but like the previous half a dozen attempts he had made, nothing happened. He was alive, and his realm had a long way to go before it could contain physical substances.

"I am trying, but nothing's happening."

Magmin frowned. "You need to learn to control yourself better, but I guess this oddity wasn't bad fortune. I advanced much faster than I had expected while getting new insights into realm shaping, so this could prove a blessing for me."

Newt focused on Magmin. His aura was stronger than Blackfist's back in the cave before each went their own way, but weaker than when Blackfist was the townlord.

Second or third layer, Newt guessed. The difference wasn't huge, but the titanoboa's physical strength outclassed a skinny sixteen-year-old.

"I'll try my best," Newt said and, after some more assurances, left his realm.

Newt stalked the dark corridors, equally dark thoughts clouding his mind. Before, when Magmin was more normal-sized, he didn't pose nearly as much threat, but the flying titanoboa was another thing entirely. From goofy, Magmin suddenly became intimidating, his reptilian eyes sharper, wiser.

But he's still the same Magmin he was a day or two ago. Newt told himself that multiple times, yet his thought drifted towards vanquishing the uninvited guest in his realm. Magmin was an invader, something which shouldn't be there, and the unprecedented oddity scared Newt.

Should I try to destroy him?

Newt remained indecisive. But even if he wanted to destroy Magmin, the once-little fellow could fly, remaining outside Newt's reach for at least another realm or two. Meanwhile, the serpent was free to attack him whenever he sculpted his realm, or worse, when Newt handled heart demons which might spawn in his realm any time he suffered significant enough trauma.

Open conflict was out of the question for a long while, and assuming Magmin didn't betray Newt by the time violence became a valid solution to Newt's predicament, there had probably never been a reason for aggression in the first place.

Did Uncle Victor's betrayal really make me that paranoid, or would the other awakened also have problems with unknown, powerful entities residing within their realms?

Newt leaned towards the latter, but knew the former played at least a part in his distrust. What if Magmin was somehow using him to come back from the dead? To possess his body at the most convenient moment?

'Amiability is king,' Blackfist had said. Hostility would achieve nothing, but a friendly relationship with Magmin could bear many fruits in the coming years.

Newt left the mine, squinting at the lands bathed in the noonday sun. The castle was close, but the descent perilous in the snow, and yet, Fireburst and his newly improved physique made the slow descent a matter of a dozen hops.

The speed and the wind buffeting his face exhilarated Newt and dispelled his poor mood. The rush of air against his cheeks made him feel as though he were flying. Newt laughed. He finally understood Magmin's mad delight when a storm raged in his realm, and maybe, just maybe, he was brave enough to allow himself to hope, to believe things will turn out well, and the monster residing within his realm was friendly.

"Newstar!"

Newt looked down and saw Steward Brave looking up at him, shielding his eyes with his hand. The sight of the traitor soured Newt's mood, but he controlled his descent, and crashed three yards away from the elderly man, spraying snow in a wide ring.

"What realm are you at?" the steward asked, despite knowing the answer.

"Third." Newt sent a surge of mana through his body, sensing the inhuman strength of his limbs. Despite knowing better, he felt like could strangle a trihorn with a simple squeeze of his hands. The lone second realm mage was helpless before him, regardless of how experienced he was. Doubly so because of Magmin Scales and the resistance to fire which they conferred.

Apparently, the steward didn't find Newt's flex of power threatening. The man glared at him in a display which clearly lacked the political savviness Newt attributed to the elderly steward.

"We need to discuss a serious matter and a grave breach of protocol. Did you give Stronggrow and Marrow resources to advance their realms?"

Captain Marrow also made it? Newt barely contained his grin, but he shifted his attention elsewhere. The tables had turned, and he also wanted to discuss a serious matter and a breach of protocol, while the arrogant steward just gave him a perfect excuse.

Newt nodded. "I may have acted rashly. We should discuss these matters in a clan meeting with all second and third realm mages present."

Brave smiled as if he had already won the argument, while Newt was looking for the best and most righteous way to skin him and his confederates of their hides.

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