Magma Dragon's Heir

46th of Season of Earth, 56th year of the 32nd imperial era

Newt's whole body shuddered, his gaze glued to the crimson pool growing on the floor. Huddled against the mine's rough rocks, he had dreamed about it hundreds of times; about killing his tormentor, about executing the traitor, but he didn't really mean to do it.

"It was an accident." His chin wobbled as tears ran down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to kill him."

The two terrified women were the only witnesses, hugging each other, holding on to their dear life. They saw the slim youth blur across the room and punch their husband with enough force for his chest to cave in.

Victor's strength once terrified them. Their husband could lift both of them and the heavy wooden bench they sat on, yet a scrawny kid ended him with a fist.

Newt heard a commotion outside and looked away from the women. Familiar voices shouted, people ran, cloth rustled. Someone was coming. Newt turned around in time to see a man who looked like he was in his sixties, with a head of gray hair, a long white beard, and the typical yellow-orange eyes of the Salamandra family. Steward Brave. Five other advisors and distant cousins followed, all awakened at the second realm.

Newt wiped his tears and snot with the back of his hand, facing the men. They had betrayed him. They had betrayed his father, their family tradition. A part of him wanted to scream at them, to hit them, but another part was like rocks chaining and dragging him under the water, into the depths.

"I didn't mean to," the addled youth said. "He had enough time to summon defenses, to counter. He was… He was so weak."

The elders looked at the blathering young man, then at the broken body on the ground.

"Newstar," Steward Brave, the oldest of the gathered elders, said, his eye twitching almost imperceptibly. "What happened? How did you awaken?"

Newt struggled to understand the question. They had more pressing matters to address. A man was dead, lying on the floor like a sack of flesh and bones, the clan's former patriarch, but the grand-uncle of the deceased asked about completely unrelated matters.

"He's dead," Newt pointed at the body, but all eyes remained locked on him. Apparently, a dead man could wait, but curiosity could not.

"I stumbled across a saurian corpse deep in the mine and refined its core. The bones crumbled to dust after that," he added the latter part for good measure in case anyone headed down to check.

The six men looked at him with disappointment, but after processing the information, one of them turned to rage.

"And you consumed manarium until you reached the middle layers of the second realm! Do you have any idea how much money that is?"

Newt stared, dumbfounded, unable to believe his ears.

"Easy, Rocky," Brave raised his hand, blocking the slightly younger man. "He mined them himself. He had the right to spend them whichever way he wanted."

What?

Newt's mind reeled. The crystals he consumed mattered more than the family patriarch's death? Rage replaced Newt's grief. Had his disgusting lineage really stooped so low that they value a sack of gems more than a clansman's life? Patriarch's?

"Where are tutor Stronggrow and captain Marrow?" Newt asked, and Brave and Millstone had the decency to lower their gazes in shame. The other four did not.

"Patriarch imprisoned them for subversive behavior."

"The patriarch is dead." Newt's rage incinerated the nausea, which paralyzed him mere moments ago. "By the right of succession, I am the new patriarch. Go release them."

"You are just a whelp knight," Chamberlain Rocky grumbled. "Be quiet while adults are talking."

Newt's eyes turned red. He lunged at the chamberlain like a savage beast, heedless of the consequences.

Rocky appeared to be in his fifties, meaning he was over one hundred and twenty years old. With the senses of a second realm mage, the man had the time to realize what was happening, and even smirk. Flames sparked to life, dancing atop his fist, punching towards Newt.

"…bite him dead in his sleep and eat him to gain a portion of his energy." Magmin's words rang out in the back of Newt's mind.

Newt originally meant to slap the man, but there was no need for mercy. Rocky had disrespected the family patriarch. He went as far as to attack Newt. It was time for a demonstration of power. Magmin Scales and Granite Crust covered Newt's skin. Mana reinforced his body, and fist met fist.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Newt shrugged off the flames, which stormed up his arm like a tidal wave. Bones cracked, and the chamberlain howled in pain as his bare fist broke against Newt's granite defense. Newt canceled Granite Crust, but kept himself clad in Magmin Scales, and Rocky's cry was cut short as Newt slapped the wailing man.

The retaliatory flames burst off Rocky's skin, but Newt remained unfazed, glad he had kept his defense active. Already out of balance, the elder fell down to his butt, blood dripping from his open mouth.

"I said, go release them. Now!"

Rocky scrambled onto his feet and ran towards the back of the compound while cradling his hand as the other advisors watched in stunned silence.

"Newstar," Steward Brave said, "did you awaken as a mageknight?"

Newt nodded in response, and the steward gazed in silence before complimenting him with a solemn face. "You have become strong."

Newt snorted. "I'm not strong — my father was strong. You are weak."

The mention of his father made the remaining men shuffle in discomfort and took Newt's mind off of his current problem.

"You will explain what has happened to my mother and father. I know they have signed an awakened contract, but what have you done with them? Where are they?"

"Newstar," Brave started, then cleared his throat. "Patriarch, I believe you should sit down."

What followed were uncomfortable minutes spent explaining what had happened with the family after Newt was thrown into the mine. The story was more or less the same as Redblaze's, but with more dirty details. Naturally, everything was Victor's fault, and he had forced the rest to follow him.

"He sold my father and mother to Hailstown's townlord Blackfist, who later sold Father as a gladiatorial slave, while a different slaver bought Mother as an entertainer?"

"With a contract stipulating they cannot be ordered to do anything which would harm their dignity."

Newt ignored Brave's addition. Was it not beneath his parent's dignity to entertain others? To be slaves?

"My mother will act as a singer and a musician for wealthy awakened and knightly orders. And you spent that money on decorations and on your lavish lifestyle over the years." Newt's eye twitched. "Is that correct?"

"Most of the funds we spent on purchasing mana-suppressing shackles for Stronggrow and Marrow and to organize the patriarch's weddings. The rest we used to renovate the estate and to start a lumber business at the foothills…"

Suddenly, Newt felt a lot less guilty about killing his uncle, and considered ending the old farts wasting air before him. The only two cousins worth something were the ones imprisoned, charged for maintaining discipline and training the clan's youths. But, since the family lacked funds to purchase saurian cores, imprisoning the elders whose job was to raise young talents was hardly a loss. Doubly so for the man charged with maintaining order and keeping them all in check.

While the convoluted logic made sense, it also made Newt sick. The clan did not need the men who oversaw youths because they would no longer produce youths worth overseeing. And with all the influx of funds, they had more than enough resources to purchase a handful of cores.

"Stronggrow was Uncle's teacher. And Uncle dared lock him up?"

"Stronggrow has raised many disciples, your father included, but he disagreed with what had happened, and insisted we should reinstate the old patriarch."

A sensible man, as far as Newt was concerned.

Newt gazed into the distance in silence, seeing nothing, saying nothing. He was trying to think of a solution when he recalled he still had allies outside the clan.

"What of the Steelwheels? Did they speak up for us?" Newt didn't want to ask about his childhood sweetheart directly, but the steward saw through the youth's question like glass.

"The Steelwheels continued cooperating with us just like they did while your father headed the family." The words struck like a hammer, but Newt endured it.

"Your friend has left the family." For a moment, Newt's heart flickered, hoping it was out of protest, but Brave crushed his hopes instantly. "She moved to Hailstown. There are all sorts of rumors about her. Some say she's betrothed to the townlord's son, others that she sold herself into slavery to become an awakened, few whispered that she was kidnapped, but her father ended those, claiming she left of her own free will to pursue a better life."

Newt closed his eyes, recalling his only childhood friend, the daughter of the wealthiest commoner family in the frontier plains. She was kind and beautiful and made him laugh with her mischievous comments. Newt's father had noticed his infatuation and planned to arrange a marriage despite her common origin, partly because Jasmine's father had promised to acquire a saurian core for her to awaken. The Steelwheels had saved for a long time to afford such a unique chance and get up in the world.

Newt nodded. He had to go to Hailstown to find information about his parents. He would visit Jasmine and see the truth of it if he had the time. He glanced up and saw Steward Brave's nervous face.

"Anything else?"

"If Patriarch knows of a manarium node, he should reveal it to the rest of the clan," the steward said. "It is your duty to the clan to share the information. With enough resources, we can raise a younger generation—"

"You dare!" a powerful voice boomed in the hall. "You dare speak of resources for training the younger generation! You dare seek alms from a child a tenth of your age!"

A muscular old man, seemingly past eighty, entered the hall, his face red with rage. His chin trembled as his gaze passed the bloodstain on the floor, and then he almost burst into tears when he laid eyes on Newt.

He bit his lip and kneeled down on one knee. "I have failed you, Master Newstar. I have failed your father, and I have failed our ancestors. As a teacher, my role is to guide, and yet they went astray."

"Grand-uncle Stronggrow," Newt lacked the old man's restraint and cried as he bowed to his teacher. Tutor Stronggrow may not have been from the main lineage, but two hundred years ago, the family still had enough resources to provide saurian cores to all children with a sharp mind and a good heart.

"Poor child," a man who appeared to be in his late forties kneeled to one knee behind his teacher. "Forgive me. Like Uncle Stronggrow, I too have failed you."

The silence was awkward, broken only by the sounds of tears hitting the stone floor, Newt's and his two cousins'.