45th of Season of Fire, 65th year of the 32nd cycle

"Well, that was kind of disappointing," Gatemaster Greenthorn said to the half-charred, half-cooked, and wholly miserable Newt on the ground while Chaplain Monsoon approached to heal the youth's injuries.

"I don't think your body advanced at all from that one, but you were right - you could handle it alone. It's weird, but instead of getting stronger, your punishment is definitely getting weaker as the years go by."

The man shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Your baptisms of sunfire have given you enough of a benefit. While it won't improve your physical strength by much, your flesh is much more aligned with fire and earth because of it. My guess is that's the reason your magic advanced so much when you broke the realm barrier and stepped into the fourth."

Newt listened, and the gatemaster's words kind of made sense, but also didn't. Why did his strength only increase a bit from advancing from the third realm to the fourth. Usually, advancing a realm meant a significant leap, but for Newt that leap translated into merely a layer's worth of strength, going from the estimated fourth layer of the fifth realm to the fifth layer of the same realm.

His teachers tried to explain that alchemical bodily enhancements also worked in similar ways, their effects diminishing with time, but the reason remained unknown. What people knew was that they seemed to lose potency as their realm increased.

Again, Newt smelled something rotten there, but he didn't care about it enough to waste years on research which might not bear fruit. Not until he reached the ninth realm or so, when he would have all the time in the world.

The gatemaster's chit-chat and Newt's stray thoughts helped with the pain while Chaplain Monsoon's power dealt with it decisively and completely by restoring Newt's body to its normal state.

"There was a change in his body," the chaplain informed her gatemaster, "but it's minimal. Like distilling the medicine for the tenth time. While there is an increase in purity, it's not worth the bother."

***

The next morning, Newt was on an airship, heading for the Summersweald, and a day and a half after that, they were flying over the jungle. Fed by manabeast blood and with no humans to cut the trees, the jungle thrived and looked centuries old. It had moved deeper into the empire than ever, removing all trace of human activity, towns and villages included.

The Salamandra family's clanhold and the surrounding lands were an island of cultivated land, isolated from the rest of the empire by a belt of jungle two hundred and seventy miles wide. In that oasis of civilisation, Harthrow stood rebuilt, bigger than ever, and with plentiful farms growing various crops in the magically fertile land.

The sight was strange, but the airship captain seemed used to it.

"Are you sure you don't want us to land?" he asked Newt.

"Nah, don't bother." Newt shook his head. "My teacher in the clan would make a fuss. He will insist on serving tea, which isn't all that good to be honest, and maybe some sweets, which might be decent, but again nothing compared to what you get back at the order."

"Well, good luck to you, then."

Newt waved everyone on the ship goodbye as he went over to the door leading out, opened it, and stepped into the air nonchalantly.

The very next moment, he regretted his cockiness as the wind and air-resistance sent him tumbling, his clothes fluttering, but he corrected himself, and with the help of explosive flames adjusted both his speed and the direction in which he was falling.

A flock of avians rushed out of his way as he dove. Newt ignored them, enjoying the sunset and the purple clouds as the air rushed all around him and the mountainous terrain slowly turned into hard ground waiting for his embrace.

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Then, two hundred yards above the castle, he rapidly started slowing his descent until he finally landed on the top of the tallest tower without making a sound.

He looked around, and the windowsill still had the pokemarks and the snake doodle. Newt ran his hand over them, and the holes closed as the rock rose from within the block to cover them.

He went down the stairs and straight to Stronggrow's residence, where he had to slow down to a pace more adequate for normal people. Finally, he knocked.

"Yes?" The old man opened the door, stumbling back in surprise.

"Newstar!" He once more wore a housegown. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you let me know you were arriving?" He paused and squinted at Newt. "Who did you bring home this time?"

Stronggrow looked around, but spotted no one, squinting at Newt with even more suspicion.

"Good to see you too, Teacher. It fills me with great joy to see you in such good health. Your robe is as fluffy as ever," Newt teased. "I'm alone. I came to visit, but I won't stay long. A moon or so, until the airship picks me up."

"Come in, come in," Stronggrow led Newt inside, where they discussed the developments of the past few years. Much like his father, Newt failed to write proper letters. Fortunately, with the jungle belt isolating his clanhold, sending the letters would actually be a first or second realm mission at the adventurers' guild. Something too expensive just to exchange a few words.

The two talked deep into the night, Stronggrow doing most of the talking, since Newt's life was quite frankly boring even to him. The Explorer's Gate higher-ups had decided that old elite students and many of the inner ones no longer needed tempering through combat missions, since they had been through one or more life and death battles already.

As for Stronggrow, while he had a lot to talk about, Newt found all of his topics boring and inconsequential. Building of new farms, reclaiming the lost land, handling cattle and taming some wild saurians from the jungle while at the same time, educating and raising the next generation of the Salamandras. Not the main family, but the many branches.

"What about Lord Blaze?" Stronggrow asked.

"Dad started sending letters every three moons asking about my health. They aren't inspiring things; one of them was just - 'How are you doing?', but at least we each know the other is alive." Newt cracked a smile. "Mom said she was the one who pestered him into doing it, and asked me to tell her if he didn't send at least four letters every year."

Stronggrow shook his head. "You've taken too much after him and too little after her."

Newt found himself offended, but Stronggrow kept talking. "The sun is about to rise. I need to prepare for my day. Will you be in your room? We've kept it clean and ready, since I've had a feeling you wouldn't announce your arrival. Heaven forbid you send a letter in advance."

Newt ignored the rebuke and shrugged. "Sure, but first I'll go around and see what's changed."

Newt left the castle shortly before dawn, heading for the abandoned mines with a spring in his step. He found the mine completely abandoned, cobwebs covering its walls and even passages, with three non-awakened snakes discussing the summer sun somewhere in the rocks.

Flames licked Newt's body as he entered the mine, the fire too weak for anything save to burn away the cobwebs or heat the air enough to send them fluttering out of Newt's way.

Around forty times stronger and faster than when he was a non-awakened boy trapped in the mine, Newt reached Magmin's realm in less than a minute.

He gazed at the ghostly twin stars, his evolvium glaive in his right, and with his left he touched the core.

An instant later he stood on a cataclysmic side of a raging volcano. Lava bubbled and fountained from massive fissures, then snaked down the slope, twisting and meandering. Furious waves of flames danced and crashed and collided atop lakes of lava whose shores were lined by rows of jagged rocks, resembling sharp teeth.

Newt took it all in and felt the landscape had much deeper meaning than one might notice at a casual glance. Anger and power unleashed, that was what Newt got out of the scenery, and he smiled. Apparently, Magmin had found his way at the fourth realm.

In the corner of his eye, Newt caught movement. He focused on it and found a common magmin serpent slithering between dangerous obstacles, darting from shelter to shelter.

Magmin learned how to create life in his realm? Newt stared at the slithering serpent with wide eyes. There were many theories about how it was possible to create life within one's realm with sufficiently advanced skill and knowledge, but those remained speculation and theory, unattainable to humanity.

At the fourth realm? What did he do later, then?

The tiny snake's aura seemed identical to Magmin's which was understandable, since the entire realm had a very similar feel. Newt blinked.

The realm's signature has changed compared to before. It's less natural and more domineering. And where is the—

"What are you doing inside my realm, little creature?"

Sharpbeak?

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