43rd of Season of Fire, 107th year of the 32nd cycle

  Something in Newt’s mind fell into place.

  His glaive screamed towards the myst-native ultraraptor’s chest. The fifth realm manabeast dodged. Wind blew, and it spun, lashing out with its tail and hammering a wind-crescent into Newt’s Granite Crust, sending him stumbling.

  Newt jumped back, confused by the vision of his attack failing just as he was about to make it.

  The ultraraptor seized the chance and pounced. It latched onto his abdomen with its powerful rear claws, then raked at him with its fore-claws, the jaw closing on Newt’s neck.

  Further disoriented, Newt moved a step back, but the raptor was already flying at him. He shifted his glaive, falling to the ground back-first, and the impossibly agile manabeast impaled itself on his weapon with surgical precision, as if committing a pre-planned suicide. Then, fire exploded within its body, roasting it. Jets of flames flashed from its mouth and nostrils.

  The ultraraptor thrashed, even as light dimmed in its eyes, but the struggle lasted only a moment, then the beast was dead.

  “I think… I got it,” Newt muttered. He wasn’t sure, but suddenly, the sense of danger he was getting from the myst grew clearer, easier to follow and interpret. An island of safety was about half a mile from him, something he couldn’t sense before challenging himself against the myst-native beast.

  After gutting the ultraraptor and finding no core, he followed the suddenly clear feeling. A model trihorn, horns and frill glistening with health, came into view. A trihorn was a slow, tough creature, easy prey for Newt, but a lousy test subject.

  He killed it, a single glaive thrust through the brain before the manabeast knew what was happening. Then, Newt wasted time to confirm it too didn’t have a core, before moving on, searching for a worthy opponent.

  Finally, on his third attempt, he ran into a longclaw. He charged recklessly, shouting to give his opponent a heads up. The longclaw startled, but turned around, saber-like claws swiping.

  Newt saw the attack before it came. He stepped under the claws, leapt another step forward, and slashed the searing glaive into the longclaw’s abdomen.

  Flames detonated within its body and killed the saurian.

  Huh? Newt stared at his glaive. The years of training with his weapon and improving his magical abilities certainly showed, but being able to see an attack a split second before it came helped those improvements bloom.

  “Master, I think I figured it out,” he said.

  Good job. You only took thirty years. Newt wasn’t sure whether Gatemaster Greenthorn mocked or praised him. It was hard to tell when the man spoke with his calm, dignified voice, let alone when he projected thoughts directly into Newt’s mind.

  “I don’t think there’s much more I can learn right now, and I’d like to leave.”

  Gatemaster Greenthorn didn’t answer, meaning, Newt was free to do as he wished. He had free reign to do as he wished for the most part, except for the mandatory annual danger sense training and missions his master occasionally sent him to complete.

  Newt sprinted through the myst without a compass, the disorienting area a familiar garden to him. Instead of slaying the beasts he came across, Newt ran around them, letting their danger remain in the air, muddling the path leading to the exit.

  He found them one by one, and a day later, left the Valley of the Lost. Three days after reaching his insight, he was back home, and he went straight to the meditation chamber.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Two and a half decades’ worth of realm sculpting remained before he would be ready for his next advancement, but that was fine. His theory that his heavenly punishment was brought about by the extreme fire stellar alignment stated he had forty-nine years left before his ideal advancement day came.

  As for proof, it should appear in forty-five years, and if it didn’t, Newt would advance four years earlier than planned.

  Newstar, come to my abode.

  Newt turned towards the center of the island, immediately abandoning any thought of sculpting his realm. He passed the buildings and entered the champions’ residential district.

  He looked at the plot of land that held nothing but jungle. It was his. He had to decide what he wanted to do with it before he reached the sixth realm. What kind of garden, what kind of house he wanted.

  The thing was, he didn’t know. He still lived in his elite student residence, much like Em, Rex, and Flare, who had also reached the fifth realm and stood at the precipice of becoming the order’s champions.

  Before the cultists’ attack, they would’ve had to work long and hard to reach the sixth realm, but the order had excess resources and lacked high-realm manpower. Everyone was pushed to grow.

  As Newt approached his master’s humble residence, he found a crowd of champions gathered in his garden, including Newt’s fellow former elites, who had managed to reach the fifth realm.

  “Good, you are all here.” Gatemaster Greenthorn stepped out of his home and onto the porch as soon as Newt had arrived.

  “I have several topics to broach. The first is one of realm advancement. Those of you who have been building foundations for a better future, balancing it with the time you had left, it’s time to make the leap. In the wake of the Blood Cult’s attack, I have reduced the cost of all meditation chambers, and our dear Chaplain Longfang has created two new ones suitable for those up to the sixth realm.”

  Gatemaster Greenthorn scanned the crowd, his gaze not lingering on a single person, but meeting them all.

  “Those who can’t break their barriers will return to old prices and old treatment. I know it sounds cruel, but new talents are rising, and we need to invest in them too. Which brings me to the next point. Newstar, myself, and a small entourage are leaving for Tidebreaker in two days, once you are done with your breakthroughs. We plan to officially announce his engagement with the Tidebreaker princess. The alliance through marriage with a royal family’s heir apparent is something our order never had. One day, Newstar will be a king and an exalt of the order. The journey will last a moon or two, and I expect to find everything in perfect order when we get back.”

  The gatemaster’s face grew into a scowl.

  “Should another attack happen, the order’s defenses have been greatly reinforced compared to before. The ports will be closed both to air and seafaring vessels. Only the survivors of the previous battle will be allowed to key defensive positions, and if anyone approaches, the orders are to kill on sight. All our students will be notified of this. Finally, I expect every, every watch and strategic location to have at least one of our champions present at all times.”

  Gatemaster Greenthorn chuckled, but there was no mirth in his voice. “If we get wiped out with all these preparations, I guess the heavens want us dead, and that’s it.

  “Any questions? Yes, Newstar. Think before speaking,” he said before Newt could raise his hand.

  Is that prescience or does he know me that well?

  Newt opened his mouth to ask why he wasn’t informed ahead of time, when he realized there were a lot of people more important than him in the audience, none with the foreknowledge of what the meeting was about.

  “Do we need to prepare anything? Gifts?”

  “No. I have taken care of it. Anyone else?”

  Lord Flameax raised his hand. “Who will take part in the delegation?”

  “If I haven’t told you that you are leaving with us, you aren’t participating. Those of you I have just notified, please go to the Chamber of Punishment and let them know you are leaving. As for the Chamber of Punishment, I expect to see a list of guard rotations for each key position by this time tomorrow. Anyone else? No? Dismissed.”

  Newt just stood where he was, wondering whether he should just go back to the Chamber of Runes and meditate, or stay and see if his master had anything else for him.

  He didn’t ask me to stay. With that, Newt turned around and went to make the best use of his two remaining days at the order.

  I wonder how Maelstrom is doing? Unlike Dandelion, she didn’t write once in all these years. Maybe I should’ve sent her a letter first? I feel I’m like Dad when it comes to these things. Yes, I’m alive and well, I have things to do, so stop bothering me.

  Newt wondered when had he become like that or whether he had always been like that, but the need for sleep and sustenance got in the way of his true nature. With his peak fifth realm body, he slept once a moon and no longer needed to eat.

  I guess I am my father’s son.

  Instead of going to the meditation chamber, Newt went to his room first, where he penned letters for his mother, father, and Dandelion. Once done, he went back to the life of clawing for the peak.