45th of Season of Fire, 216th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt’s rise to the seventh realm was a quiet affair, which had taken place in Neverleave desert, the first time he had visited the wasteland since reaching the sixth realm. He and his master were careful, never visiting the same location twice, and staying far away from the saurian wealds, fearing another onslaught.

  “How do you feel?” Gatemaster Greenthorn asked, handing Newt a vial. “You hardly need the potion.”

  Newt didn’t quite agree as pieces of his arm flaked off as he grabbed the bottle, but he was well enough to stand.

  “I’m alive, and I won’t be ready to progress to the eighth realm for the next celestial alignment of extreme flame.”

  Greenthorn nodded. Even with all his support, with all his help, Newt had still needed sixty-seven years to sculpt his sixth realm. The next ten layers would take anywhere between a century and a half and three hundred years.

  “When do you plan to visit your ancestral home?”

  “As soon as I get used to my new strength. Probably a moon or three. I think I’ll take my parents with me. Hopefully, they’ll decide to stay in the ancestral land with little Blaze XI.”

  Living under the same roof with them for a quarter of a century was both a blessing and a curse. Worse, he had a two-year-old baby brother. A nearly two hundred years younger baby brother. Had Newt spent his time watching non-awakened, he would’ve watched generations being born, living, and giving birth to new generations. And he had a baby brother.

  “I’m finally strong enough to see what arts my ancestor has left as a legacy for my clan.”

  Greenthorn nodded. “I’m interested in that too. It was quite a seal, primed to destroy the contents rather than let strangers take them.”

  Newt glanced at his master, but said nothing. He should’ve known the old exalt must have snooped all around the Salamandra clanhold back when he had saved his life a century and a half ago.

  “Shall we go home, Master?”

  The exalt nodded, and they were off.

  Two moons later, the Salamandras were on an airship, heading towards their ancestral home. Newt’s idea of spending time with his parents was flawed right from the start. He wasn’t a child, and they never could make up for the time lost during his more tender years, nor could they make up for Newt’s and his father’s personality, which were uncomfortably similar in some aspects.

  Still, Newt had tried, done his duty, and now he had a baby brother. He focused his mana sense on little Blaze. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the little thing.

  Newt wondered whether he was just as ordinary.

  I probably was, but that just means he can soar too. I just have to find him a core of high enough quality.

  A day later, their ship landed before the Salamandra clanhold. Marrow looked old. Wrinkles marred his face and made him resemble Stronggrow to a point. The family resemblance was obvious.

  Newt took a good, long look at his parents. If Marrow looked like he was sixty, they appeared to be in their forties. Newt, on the other hand, looked like he had just hit twenty. Numbers flashed through his mind, he was one hundred and seventy-six years old and looked like he was twenty. Marrow, at the third realm, was two hundred and twenty-two hundred and thirty years old, but looked like he was sixty.

  Meanwhile, Newt’s parents were a bit older than Marrow, but looked twenty years younger.

  “Patriarch,” Marrow bowed in greeting, all the thinking Newt had done happening in the space between when the two men met gazes and Marrow bowing to acknowledge him.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Thank you for your hard work, Marrow. How fares the clan? Is Plowson still around?”

  “Yes, Patriarch, he’s the captain now. Do you wish to see him?”

  Newt considered it, and decided he didn’t. He had a feeling that seeing the other man’s failing body would make him feel even more depressed, and he needed to focus on completing Magmin’s realm.

  Magmin’s past self was becoming strong, worthy of a dragon, and Newt didn’t need any distractions.

  “My parents are back too, and they wish to stay in the clan.”

  “My Lady, Blaze, Young Master,” Marrow bowed less formally, calling Newt’s father by his name, rather than addressing him as a superior.

  Marrow and many others had problems with Newt’s father and his easygoing approach to their plight.

  “Thank you for all your hard work, Marrow,” Newt’s mother said with a smile, while his father just nodded.

  No wonder it all fell apart. Newt thought, but kept quiet while everyone exchanged greetings.

  “I’m leaving now, but I’ll be back.” Newt left the castle in a blur and went for Magmin’s secret realm. He was feeling fairly confident.

  The baptisms of fire had changed him, and his aura was that of someone who had reached the eighth realm. Back in the sixth realm, Magmin’s realm ghost didn’t even fight him, just surrendered after having a talk with Newt.

  In less than a minute after leaving the castle, Newt was in the depths of the mine, staring at the orb only he could see.

  Gatemaster Greenthorn must have scanned the entire mine and found nothing. Then again, my mana sense didn’t pick it up either. I can sense the few remaining deposits of manarium scattered around, but not the core.

  Odd. Newt touched the core and found himself inside a different world. Rivers of lava still flowed, but something had changed in the air. He looked around and saw the change.

  “Huh, you were always a clever little snake, weren’t you?”

  “I was,” Magmin said in a familiar voice. “It appears I handled the sharpbeak at the seventh realm by myself.”

  Newt nodded, admiring the arrangement of rocks and flows of lava, which formed runes, returning to what they were back when Magmin was a genius just setting off on his path.

  “Do you remember how it happened?”

  Magmin nodded. “An eighth realm terrorwing of ice and wind. She stalked me for days, and I had to hide, to crawl underground. The sharpbeak didn’t know how to survive, but the clever snake did, so we made a bargain, and I got us out of the trouble, then devoured it. With its superiority shaken and after voluntarily yielding the control of our realm, it was easy prey.”

  They just watched the expanse in silence.

  “It’s kind of like my realm now, but worse,” Magmin finally broke the silence. “Your ideas could have been mine ages ago, but I deviated from the path of using the world’s truths and the positions of the stars, and only got back to it at the seventh realm. And even after I got back, I only copied what seemed draconic and snake-like, when I should have taken in all of the firmament.”

  Magmin chuckled.

  “Shallow, but considering I had regained control, I’ll give my old self a passing mark on this test.”

  Newt also laughed.

  “You know what I just realized?”

  The dragon motioned with his head.

  “I think you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had. No, that’s a lie. There was Obi, dear Obi, but he’s a hundred and fifty years dead now. The rest of the order, well, some are battle brothers and sisters, but the rest they are just strangers. I don’t know if you follow what I’m saying.”

  “I do, and I appreciate it. Do you want us to try something weird?”

  Newt regarded the dragon, he could see eagerness in Magmin’s eyes. He shrugged.

  “Sure.”

  Magmin’s realm ghost, or whatever it had become when combined with Magmin, which Newt had known most of his life, surged through the air, then dove towards Newt.

  For a moment, Newt hesitated, but his danger sense didn’t trigger, meaning there was no danger in what Magmin was doing.

  The dragon slammed into Newt’s body, then dove in, shrinking and entering his core.

  “I’m inside your realm while you’re inside mine. Does your head hurt from thinking about it?”

  “It didn’t until you mentioned it. Am I inside my own realm right now?”

  “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I don’t have a realm as a realm ghost.” Magmin chuckled, his mood excellent. “Now I’m going to leave, and then come back until you get the feel for it. Hopefully, with enough repetition, we’ll figure out how you can do this in the real world.”

  A week later, Newt had learned much. How to lock up his realm, so that Magmin can’t enter. How to force him out. How to force a mana copy of himself from his realm, it was a weak, flimsy thing, but a genuine clone nonetheless, and finally, and most importantly, Newt had learned how to manifest Magmin.

  “Haha!” Magmin roared a raucous laugh. “You suck at this, but I can sense I’m inside your realm and outside at the same time.”

  He clenched his claws. “My strength is at around half of what I could do here, but that’s not horrible. We can improve it. We can definitely improve it.”