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Chapter 90 - The Summer Solstice
🕑 Added 2024-12-04 10:53:08 +0000 UTC45th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
“Thank you for helping me pick the glaive, Master.” Newt had spent the first part of the day’s training with Elder Alabaster picking a heavy weapon for his spar with Obsidian.
On Newt’s insistence, his roommate agreed to a duel at noon. Newt believed it was dramatic and symbolic enough, and while Obsidian did not see the attraction, he still agreed to humor his young friend.
Friends, huh? Newt considered the word. I guess we are friends. We will entrust our lives to each other, and we will support each other both when we are inside the sect and when we are out on missions.
Another change following Newt’s injury was his increasing familiarity with the library and all the mundane matters which could influence his cultivation. Knowledge was power, and cultivation was the application of that power.
He was still far from where he wanted to be, but he had acknowledged his shortcomings and started addressing them.
I’ll need at least a decade of reading before I can optimize the changes I wish to make to Dandelion’s realm blueprint, and I should refrain from reaching anything beyond the sixth layer in the meantime, so that I can visit Magmin’s realm.
Various thoughts of outstanding futures flashed through Newt’s mind as he approached the training field. Obsidian stood there, waiting, and Newt’s heart quickened. He could feel himself sweating from excitement.
Will I be able to win? Obsidian described himself as primarily a melee fighter, so we can exchange blows freely, especially since Master is there to watch over us.
Newt flashed a grin at his roommate, then glanced towards his new weapon brimming with pride. It was a fourth realm masterpiece, and it almost slipped through his fingers because of the debt. Fortunately, Elder Alabaster relented to Newt’s begging, and allowed him to claim his reward instead of forcing him to cash it in to settle his medical bill.
All this is just so exciting. Newt struggled for breath, still grinning. Heavens, it’s hot today.
“You all right?” Obsidian asked as Newt approached.
“Yeah, I’m a bit dizzy. It’s hot—”
The world blurred and then became crystal clear again, clearer than it had ever been. Obsidian had disappeared, as had the entirety of Explorer’s Gate, the jungle, the training yard, everything. Instead of a grassy field, Newt found himself in the middle of an apocalypse. The ground was charred for hundreds of miles in every direction, earth rising into mountains, spewing lava into the air.
Ash obscured the sky, but a tiny red dot blazed in the hellish landscape. It was as small as his nail, standing more upright than any dinosaur or spirit beast he had ever seen, but it lacked scales, and blood flowed freely across its surface, yet never leaving the body.
Newt’s whisker twitched at the alien creature’s vile scent. Regardless of what it was, it had invaded his domain, and Newt would destroy it. There was only one concern; despite being tiny, the intruder was strong, freakishly so.
Newt clenched his fist, digging it into the ground. As his claws drew closed, power gushed through them and into the earth. The countless volcanos dotting the land spewed earth and fire, melding it into one titanic torrent, and the flow powerful enough to strip the flesh off of ninth realm spirit beasts slammed into the bloody bipedal monster.
The creature of blood raised its arm, palm outstretched, and the billions of pounds of molten rock parted, smashing into the ground beyond, but leaving the monster unscathed.
Newt roared in fury, and the world shook from his rage. It had been countless ages since anyone dared threaten his dignity. Worse, the tiny creature radiated arrogance, as if it was invulnerable.
Newt pounced, his twenty-mile-long body descending on the tiny, insolent thing. He had forgotten the last time he moved personally to deal with an intruder, but the bloody creature had slaughtered his servants, and he could contain his rage no longer.
The thing moved, blurring in Newt’s eyesight, but its heat was easy to track. It probably thought it could sneak up on him, or use the speed to its advantage. Newt smirked.
How arrogant.
He swiped his clawed hand through the air and smacked the bloody thing out of the sky. The world took a moment to realize what had happened, then the air exploded like thunder. The bloody thing distorted, becoming a flying stain, and smashed into a volcano, splashing lava towards the sky.
The world was quiet for a moment, then Newt felt the sting. He looked at his palm. A tiny bloody crack had formed in his crust made of granite, marbled with veins of molten rock.
Newt frowned. The speck radiated danger, and without hesitation, the whole part of his hand burst outward, Searing blood dripping onto the ground, setting the rocks on fire.
“What an insidious creature you are, little fly,” he thundered, feeling the bloody creature swim towards him through the network of magma veins below the earth.
The creature got right below the chunk of molten flesh Newt had discarded, unaware that Newt could see its position all along. It burst from the ground, but instead of a surprised target, it found a fiery tail, slamming towards it like a divine hammer. With a crack, the bloody creature exploded into specks, raining down on the molten ground.
Newt snorted, flames flying from his nostrils, then froze. The enemy was destroyed, but three others were creeping towards him, with more incoming.
He bared his teeth and roared.
Three days later, they were all dead. Twenty-seven of them had come, twenty-seven Newt buried in their fiery graves, but they were tough.
The insidious, cowardly beings injected him with something every time they landed a blow, and eventually their numbers grew too big for Newt to counter them effectively. His body was riddled with holes, but his spiritual energy was more than half-full.
Tired, he landed, covering five volcanoes to feast on their heat, but something was wrong. His body, tougher than rock, hotter than lava, was rotting from the inside.
He expelled the parts of his body that were infected, but new zones broke down, seemingly at random. He shed blood and flesh, ripping off his scales, to no avail. Newt’s agony kept increasing, and finally, after days of torture, he accepted the truth, the monsters of blood had bested him. He took out twenty-seven of them, but they dragged him down with them.
Newt was indignant, furious, but there was no benefit to those feelings. Not any longer. He chose the plot of land where spiritual energy converged. After his death, his body would draw it to reinforce his cores, and he would leave a sliver of himself there, for one of his descendants to find.
They needed to know the truth, that the tiny monsters made of blood and nothing else were dangerous enough to kill him, and that the best way to fight them was to bring battle to them. It went against the natural order, but the mighty had to leave their places of power unguarded and eliminate the opponent, otherwise, the tiny pests would kill them all one at a time.
Newt opened his eyes and found himself in a vaguely familiar room. The weight of eons fell, and his dream turned to smoke. He tried to grasp it, to recall everything he could from his dream, but he was grabbing for water, only bits and pieces sticking to his palm.
Finally, the dream was gone, leaving Newt in the clean room.
Chamber of Healing. Did I faint because of my previous injuries? It’s been weeks since then.
“How are you feeling, Newstar Blazing Salamander?” Newt turned towards the unfamiliar voice, finding a white-robed man who looked younger than Obsidian, but he was a void in his spiritual perception.
“I am feeling great, thank you for asking and worrying about me, Elder.” Newt tried to get up and bow towards the person he assumed was a senior healer, but the bed kept him glued in place.
“It is good that you are good.” The man had clear blue eyes, and a gaze so sharp it seemed like it was slashing Newt into pieces and examining him for lingering problems. His lips were drawn in a light, friendly smile, and surprisingly its warmth reached his eyes, once he confirmed Newt was indeed good.
“Can you tell me what is the last thing you recall?”
Newt looked up towards the ceiling.
“My master helped me pick a nice glaive, then I went to spar with my roommate. I got excited, and it was hot, but it’s cool here in the Chamber of Healing.”
The elder nodded. “And afterwards?”
Newt considered his dream and what he could say to the stranger. He almost lied, then recalled the elders could see through lies.
“I had a strange dream. I’m guessing I fainted.”
“Do you recall anything from the dream?” The elder’s expression, voice, and gaze did not change a whit, yet Newt somehow sensed the tremble of his excitement.
“I was a dragon fighting monsters.”
The elder nodded, a slight ripple in his eye. “You have been asleep for three days, your master will come in shortly and explain what happened. I wish you a speedy recovery.”
The man disappeared without even leaving the trace of spiritual energy.
AN: I've been waiting for this part for ages. It's just a hint of the distant, main plot, and it's finally here!
Thanks for reading!
Comments
James Auwaerter
That’s what he gets for having Newt as a nickname. It leads to amphibian/reptilian metamorphoses. Now, if he had been named Jake, he would have turned into an OP protagonist.
