Magma Dragon's Heir

60th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt dodged a split second before the spiketail launched a volley of icicles from its tail. The frozen javelins whizzed by harmlessly, but rather than being happy with his success, Newt felt frustrated.

Now that I've confirmed it, I can see that attack coming before my danger sense warns me, and I can't use it for training. Newt rushed towards the saurian's head. The dash was mad and suicidal, but his newfound sense warned him that the spiketail would try to smash his head with its tail.

He ducked under the attack, then jumped when he sensed the backward blow coming, and speared the saurian's neck with his glaive. The weak shield of water dissolved while a flash of fire exploded directly inside the mortally wounded spiketail's neck, finishing off the beast.

Come on! The previous two had intact cores. The sixth saurian of the day, unfortunately, did not leave a core behind. Newt was fine with that. Based on the number of manabeasts he had slain since entering the area for fourth realm awakened, he should have found three to four cores, but finding two in a row in three hours helped improve his mood. He just had to keep searching.

More importantly, his danger sense had advanced by a grade. Newt was partially aware that calling his precognition danger sense was wrong, but he liked the name better and chose to stick with it, at least until his master told him the official term for it.

With the advancement, he could occasionally sense attacks directed at him, but there were limitations. Throwing himself into harm's way caused no reaction, while acting recklessly without intending to allow a certain attack to land on him did trigger it. If his mind could find a pattern for the attack, his conscious mind overruled instinct.

There were other minor details and guesses. For instance, Newt believed he could detect attacks coming from his blind spots with greater ease, and chaotic, split-instant happenings also seemed easier to foresee, but those were guesses. To infer any sort of rules from a handful of encounters was stupid, and relying on those conclusions suicidal.

I thought tracing was safe, and it nearly got me killed. Newt reminded himself not to rely on his conclusions, but to observe and discuss his findings with a knowledgeable senior once he left the Valley of the Lost.

And with the development of his danger sense came a potential direction for leaving the valley. As his danger sense grew sharper, Newt could distinguish between different grades of safety and danger.

The change implied two things. He could sense opponents even if he headed in the "safe" direction. The spiketail he slew was his experimental victim. The second, more important implication was that Newt could in theory search for the exit on his own without a compass. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he believed he would recognize it if he got close enough.

I think my danger sense needs to be a lot better for that, but I'm improving by the hour.

Newt couldn't even guess the time he would need to reach the level of proficiency required to find the way out, but he knew he could get there. It might take days, weeks, seasons, or years, but he would find the exit.

And when I do, I'll have a ton of mysterium and cores.

He had already decided he would tie up the sleeves of his uniform's shirt and fill them with valuables. He might take the upper portion of his uniform off altogether and turn the shirt into a giant sack, but he would not worry about rich-man's problems of not knowing how to carry his treasures until he became the said rich man. Until then, pockets and his sack would do.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Besides, geysers did not seem to register to his danger sense, and stumbling across one while wandering an unknown area after he had left the previous field was something Newt believed required more luck than he had.

Wandering a danger zone beyond your realm with no clue how to leave is such a chore. What if I end up stuck here for years? What if I wander into the fifth realm area and get stuck there?

That thought terrified him. He remembered how powerful the frostworm was, and he knew he stood no chance. For all he knew, a fifth realm shroud ultraraptor could shoot those wind scythes at will and tear him to shreds before he got to blink.

Newt stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, away from the feeling of safety, and headed straight towards danger.

Don't tempt your luck. I know where the next realm zone is, but not how far away it is. It should be miles away, but why take foolish chances?

There was absolutely no reason to tempt fate, and Newt focused on hunting in the direction he was fairly certain should be the periphery of the fourth realm area.

***

As expected, Newstar's teammates tried to talk Greenbow into contacting her master as soon as they docked. To an extent, she had the same urge. Her troublesome little brother had made a mess for the third time in just as many moons. In less than a season, he caused their master distress thrice. The thought of throttling him passed through her mind once or twice as they sailed.

Greenbow was generally a peaceful, non-argumentative type, but everything had its limits, and Newstar was rapidly pushing hers. Still, she endured. It was an accident. Again.

During the first day of sailing, Greenbow also burned with the desire to rush over and report everything. Not to snitch, but to save the careless kid's butt. But after the sun set and the moon rose, her head cooled. An hour or five won't make any difference. Besides, the only way to speed up the ship was through Roselilly's limited skill, and it simply wasn't worth it.

So, since time wasn't critical, once they docked, she told her juniors to go to the Chamber of Instruction first and submit their myst crystals to complete their mission. Protocol was important, and they had to follow it.

"Don't worry, I'll wait for you, and then we can visit my and Newstar's master together." In all honesty, she wanted to go alone, but there could have been details she had missed, and wasting her master's time and causing her extra anxiety while she went to find the eyewitnesses wasn't worth it. The report could wait ten minutes while the juniors filled out their paperwork.

Alone, she once more went through everything she knew, and the situation was strange. The myst didn't contract, there was no attack. Newstar was just searching for mysterium inside a geyser when the ropes went taut, then flew from his startled teammates' hands.

Greenbow initially thought some saurian had snatched him, but she had seen how tough her little brother was; no way could a third realm manabeast manhandle him like that. Besides, someone should've seen something. All of that combined meant even more confusion.

She waited in front of the Chamber of Instruction for a good twenty minutes, watching people leave the building while others entered until finally the trio walked out.

"Follow me; we're heading for the champions' residences." Greenbow led the way, the others following like little hatchlings.

The group moved deeper into the island, passing Chamber Street and heading for the far wall. They went through the gate, the airship docks to their right, not even the tips of the massive vessels visible beyond the trees.

Then came the turn leading towards senior residents' district. Greenbow disliked the area for former students and elites forever stuck at the peak of the fifth realm. Those who never managed to pass the mountain of the hurdle scared her, because she feared that might be her fate as well.

Finally, at the end of the road, they reached the final fork. Champions' district to the right, unknown and forbidden to the left. She took the right path and ignored the unique architecture. Every building in the district was one of a kind.

Humble cottages, their plots untamed jungle, stood next to sprawling mansions and fancy wooden palaces. Each champion's plot had the same size and shape, what they did with it was up to them.

Lady Alabaster's abode was made of white marble, its thick walls gleaming in the sun. Greenbow moved with purpose, her stride quick, but not rushed. She reached the door and entered without knocking. Inside a spacious entrance hall, an elderly man sat behind a desk.

"Uncle Freshshine, is Master available?" Greenbow inclined her head respectfully, despite her status being above that of the fifth-realmer.

"Lady Alabaster is busy reading, she said not to disturb her unless the matter is important." The white-haired man glanced at Greenbow's company. "Is the matter important?"

"That troublemaking little brother of mine caused trouble again. He got separated from his companions in the Valley of the Lost, and we need to go find him now."