87th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd imperial era

The spring had already arrived at the base of the Dragon's Rest mountain. At the foot of the volcano, the world was warm; unlike the slopes near Newt's ancestral castle, where patches of snow still dotted the landscape, refusing to melt in the outcropping of large rocks which shielded them from the sun or in places where the wind had heaped large snow drifts.

Contrasting the black and white world above, the grasslands and fields had become a storm of clashing colors, sporting wildflowers which screamed for insects' attention in the green world. While bees buzzed, following floral scents, sharpbeaks and other avians screeched from already blooming trees, the saurians searching for mates on branches of green and white and pink.

Newt paused as a bumblebee buzzed before his nose, drunkenly flying towards a cluster of scarlet flowers. He observed the creature with newfound senses, watching its wings beat and twist to keep the insect afloat.

Newt's senses had become a marvel, everything around him moving slower when he focused on it, and he decided to enjoy the sight rather than rush forward.

His destination, the imperial city of Thunderbluff, lay some six hundred miles away, towards the empire's heart and away from Summersweald. Newt could cover the distance in four days of hard pace if pressed, but there was little need for haste. He had parted with Blackfist less than fifty days ago, and, with saurians inactive, the guild offered fewer missions during those two winter moons which had passed.

With his mind made, Newt strolled at leisurely twelve miles per hour. He moved faster than an adult man's full run, but the pace was relaxed for him, giving him ample opportunity to observe the world and contemplate his clan's techniques. Five hours later, the sun was high in the sky, making its way west, when a man, his dun clothes simple but clean, face pale in dread, came sprinting around the bend in the road.

He spotted Newt, his eyes going wide, his mouth and cheeks contorting as he was about to shout.

"Run! Longclaws—" before he could finish his warning, a ten-foot-tall saurian rounded the corner. Brown stripes decorated the biped's green scales. They camouflaged the predator well in a forest environment, but did a poor job in the open fields overflowing with flowers. The saurian sported absurdly long claws, nearly a foot long, sharp as a man-made blade. it swiped at the terrified farmer's back, but Newt was already upon it.

Mana surged through Newt's body the moment the fleeing man rounded the hill, and fire exploded beneath his feet, catapulting him forward and sending a shower of gravel in the opposite direction. Newt didn't have time to draw his swords. Instead, a black aura enveloped his body, Granite Crust covering him in a blink and making him look like a living rock.

The farmer screamed and ducked just in time for the claws to whistle above him. As the man tumbled to the ground, Newt crashed into the saurian. He smashed into its massive head feet-first, striking the longclaw right between the eyes. The beast reared in pain, but showed no hint of mana.

Newt released the tense breath he had been holding. The longclaw wasn't a manabeast, but a regular beast; the saurian onslaught wasn't starting yet. Still, even a regular longclaw possessed enough power to threaten a second realm awakened.

Without wasting time to draw his blades, Newt straddled the saurian's jaw and squeezed, clamping it shut with his legs, before he started pummeling the longclaw with his bare fists. The beast whined, staggering back. In those two seconds, Newt had already landed half a dozen blows when the longclaw slashed at him with its long talons. Newt tensed, preparing for the worst, but the attack lacked strength, and he stood in an awkward location while the beast itself was dazed.

Newt kept raining blows, and the saurian teetered. Granite-encased fist smashed into the beast's temple, and the skull gave with a loud crack of dry old wood yielding. With a final whine, the longclaw toppled over, its head a misshapen mess.

Newt jumped off, panting, his stance wide, ready for the beast to suddenly spring back to its feet and attack. His gaze was locked on the longclaw, but after twitching and helplessly slapping its tail against the gravel road for several moments, the beast went still.

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Newt gulped, staring at a monster which could have bisected him only a short while ago, before regaining his composure and turning back to face the terrified farmer.

"Where did a longclaw come from?" Newt dropped Granite Crust, his voice commanding.

The man was so beside himself, he answered Newt's question without hesitation.

"Honorable Mageknight, a pack of longclaws attacked me and my cart. I left the spikebacks to fend for themselves—" The man grabbed his hair and pulled, his eyes wide as panic returned to them. "I left them harnessed! My spikebacks!"

In what must have been an episode of insanity, the panicked commoner sprinted past Newt and down the road, about to fight a pack of predators to save his beasts of burden.

Newt took a moment to wrap his mind around what was happening. A lone man, a non-awakened commoner, was rushing to fight multiple longclaws over what were certainly already dead spikebacks. In the corner of his eye he noted men and women running towards the road through their fields, while the more rational ones fled to the safety of their homes, some carrying small children.

The world slowed as Newt processed his circumstances, then unleashed two bursts of flame beneath his feet. With the first, he reached the unhinged man, with the second he was a dozen yards ahead of him, nearly flying towards the bend.

The farmer behind him screamed, and Newt glanced back, catching a shower of gravel pelting the poor villager.

Oops. At least there were no larger stones, the gravel more a shock than a real danger. Then, Newt turned around the hillock and lost sight of the wagon driver, coming face to face with four longclaws feasting on dead spikebacks. An overturned wagon stood near them, freshly picked cabbages littering the road.

Newt slowed, drawing his swords and a longclaw raised its head from its prey to look at him, tearing a chunk of meat. The beast swallowed and growled, then returned to its feast, keeping a wary eye on Newt as it tore another mouthful.

Newt hesitated, longclaws equaled second realm awakened in combat prowess, and four of them posed a serious danger for a third realm awakened.

They won't be able to pierce Granite Crust, and I can always run if I can't handle them.

It wasn't the bravest of thoughts, but it was enough to prod Newt into action.

He charged into the still-feeding beasts. The one watching him raised its head and unleashed a warning hiss, which roused the other three from their feeding frenzy. The nearest beast raised its head and turned around to face Newt. It moved in time to see a gleaming sword just before its steel tip sank into its eye and pierced its brain. The longclaw's challenging roar left its throat without fully forming, coming out as a pained gurgle.

Newt kicked its thick neck, sending a burst of flame as he simultaneously yanked his sword free and sent the massive saurian crashing into its pack-mate. The three remaining longclaws roared and growled, one of them slashing its blade-like talons at Newt.

With a rush of mana, the third realm version of Newt family's ancestral spell, Salamandra's Touch, came into being, coating Newt's sword in flames just before it clashed with the saurian's claw.

The longclaw squealed as its seared flesh hissed and parted, but it pulled back before Newt could chop off its limb. The beast stumbled, unused to such movement, and Newt would have pressed the advantage had the prone longclaw not thrown off its dead pack-mate and twisted to right itself. Before Newt could even attack it, the third saurian stepped forth.

The three-thousand-pound beast stomped onto the overturned cart, snapping it into kindling and squishing the cabbages to paste. The confident move backfired, and the longclaw lost its balance. Flames burst beneath Newt's feet as he used the opening and leaped at the beast.

The flaming sword flashed, burying itself into the longclaw's exposed neck with a hiss. Blood sprayed Newt's face as he pulled free his sword, and the longclaw grasped for its own throat.

Panicked, the beast thrashed its tail and turned to flee, colliding with its pack-mate just as the other longclaw got back to its feet. They toppled together while the one whose arm Newt had scorched and half-severed fled.

Newt dispatched the prone monsters in a heartbeat, then caught up with the last survivor. He jumped, aiding his leap with a burst of hot air beneath his feet. The salamandra's fang entered the back of the longclaw's neck, and the lifeless saurian fell, tumbling head over heels along the field of ankle-high wheat.

Newt drew a breath and exhaled, an overjoyed grin on his lips.

I didn't even break a sweat.

True, none of the longclaws were manabeasts, not a speck of mana beyond what one would expect in regular saurians, but still, slaying five of them in quick succession made Newt truly feel like a mageknight of legends, fighting the saurians and protecting the common folk.

Regarding the common folk, where is that wagon driver?

Newt turned around and saw the commoner pulling on his hair again.

"My spikebacks!"

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