Magma Dragon Cultivation

56th of Season of Fire, 56th year of the 32nd cycle

The only heart demons left were Newt’s old sparring partner and his uncle. Newt had not caught a glimpse of his uncle, and the fact scared him more than the velociraptors and Borhem combined.

Newt waited in his cavern, practicing and altering his techniques for hours, however, neither heart demon appeared. Exhausted from the exertion, Newt went to sleep. He awoke and ate the rest of his meat before going up for bread and water.

After sating his hunger, Newt reentered his realm. He appeared inside the Magmin Pine forest, Borhem nowhere in sight.

Let’s see which layer I’m at. He willed a tiny crack in the granite connecting the line of calcified trees. The space between two adjacent trees was five hundred feet, and he followed the line down the mountain.

Newt’s heart raced when he realized he had completed the ninth layer, with tenth underway. He was so excited that he forgot there was only one way for a change to stick in his realm.

“Peak of the tenth layer?” He gulped. “I can break through at any time.”

Newt looked back at the empty expanse. Advancing at that point would have crippled his future cultivation. Just looking at it made Newt dizzy. Two months. Two months of perfect undisturbed cultivation, just to set up the Magmin Pines, followed by another two to three weeks to make the fire glyphs.

He ran his fingers through his hair, despairing just from imagining the amount of work ahead of him, when he saw a humanoid shape jogging down the volcano. He immediately recognized Borhem’s muscular physique.

Well, at least I can get rid of him, then I have to find my uncle and defeat him just in case.

Borhem kept his pace relaxed, just like Newt remembered. The man never hurried because his young master was waiting, but lashed out like a viper in the practice yard.

Once Borhem was two dozen yards away from Newt, the young man covered himself in blistering lava, preparing himself for battle.

“Watch out, Young Master!” The words made Newt’s skin crawl, he did not fear them at all, never did, but in the last few days he had come to loathe them.

Just like always, time seemed to slow, Newt let the padded leather strike his nose, then the unexpected happened. The granite nose, which Newt could smash against a wall without consequence, broke. The young man fell backwards and awoke in the mine the moment his head struck the rocky ground.

Long ago, Newt would have raged and cursed. The day before he defeated the velociraptors, he would have muttered disgruntled obscenities, but with the experience from defeating his first heart demon, Newt came to understand certain things.

So, I have to defeat him without receiving a blow. Again. I wonder whether Uncle will be like that too. Is it just me, or do all cultivators have heart demons which defeat them in one blow? Newt was uncertain, but he had a plan. If what he feared was a spar, rather than Borhem, who only ever annoyed Newt, he would have to spar and win.

He reentered his realm, fashioned a spear for himself, and went to the edge of the forest, where Borhem would have an easier time finding him. Newt hoped he would have the advantage of the higher ground, and an easier access to the taller man’s head.

Borhem trotted over half an hour later, and Newt halfheartedly noted he would have lacked the time to erect a new Magmin Pine. Newt’s sparring partner seemed unfazed by all the running. There was no sweat on his brows, no sign of strain blemished his bored smirk. Newt watched him approach and kept thinking how punchable that arrogant face was.

“Watch out, Young Master,” Borhem shouted and thrust, lagging a full second behind Newt’s attack.

Newt’s spear found the man’s chest, but Borhem ignored the wound. In the slowed time, Newt saw no blood flowing out of the wound as Borhem further impaled himself on Newt’s granite spear. Instead, the padded bag crawled towards Newt’s nose, the youth powerless to stop it.

Damn, Newt thought as his nose crunched and as he flew back.

Do I need to hit his head? Newt closed his eyes and reopened them a quarter of an hour later. Striking Borhem’s head did not help.

With the next idea in mind, Newt reappeared in a barren patch of his realm. He started erecting thick columns to hamper his heart demon.

Ten minutes later, the trotting sparring partner appeared, jogging down hill towards Newt’s training ground. The youth chose to fight without a weapon this time. He could snatch the spear and defeat Borhem unarmed.

“Watch out, Young Master,” Borhem shouted, surprising Newt. A column separated them and there was no way he could strike him. At least, that is what Newt believed.

The spear bent, twisting around the column like a serpent. Despite Borhem lacking line of sight, the leather sack unerringly found Newt’s nose. Time crawled, and curses swarmed Newt’s lips as the padding smashed into his nose. The nose crunched, and Newt flew back, striking a thick column with the back of his head, and awakening yet again.

He drew a deep breath. “This is getting annoying.”

He rubbed his nose despite himself, then stretched his arms upwards, popping his back.

Should I defeat him at range? Shoot him with a sling or riddle him with javelins and be done with it?

Newt decided to give it a try. He reappeared in his realm, erected a platform to stand on, and conjured two dozen javelins. He threw and tested them, recreating one as soon as he threw it. By the time Borhem appeared, Newt was certain he could hit him from a dozen yards away.

The brawny man approached, and Newt tossed the javelin at his head, but his old sparring partner tilted to the side. Newt threw the next one at Borhem’s stomach, the man tried to sidestep, but the projectile went through his flank, and straw fell out of the nasty gash.

Newt watched in bewilderment when the dreaded cry came.

“Watch out, Young Master!”

The training spear extended and smashed Newt square in the nose. He flew off the platform and smashed his head against the ground.

He is a straw puppet? Newt thought in the dark mine, trying to understand the implication of his discovery. He failed.

“Is it because I thought he was a dummy?” he muttered, but that was the best he could come up with.

Left without a choice, Newt tried again, this time armed with a crude sling. Stone after stone struck Borhem. Straw bled from his head and chest. By the time he reached Newt, the dummy lacked an arm, a head, and a portion of its torso. Still, a disembodied voice shouted, “Watch out, Young Master,” and the puppet’s spear unerringly found Newt’s nose, sending him to the ground.

It’s not about Borhem at all, Newt realized his trauma came from the spear and from the shout. He never found the man behind the spear scary; the servant was merely uncouth and looked like a thug.

Newt tapped the rock floor with his nail, thinking.

I should try to break the spear.

He reappeared in his realm, again within the forest, but the environment mattered little. The trees were gigantic, spaced so far from each other, the forest was hardly any different from an open field. Newt summoned his spear and inspected the weapon.

This won’t do. He frowned, staring at the spear’s head. The weapon was made for piercing, not for slashing.

Newt focused on the spear, and its shaft grew thicker, its head longer and wider. Within a minute, the elegant spear had become a massive glaive. It should have weighed at least twice as much as the spear, but in Newt’s hand the weight remained ideal.

He brandished it, slashing and stabbing at air several dozen times to confirm he could use it, then frowned in disappointment.

I will need proper training with weapons in the real world. Any techniques I learn here will be useless outside.

Borhem took half an hour before he found Newt. The always identical trot, which had annoyed Newt suddenly had a rational explanation, as did the smirk. The puppet was designed to draw attention from the real heart demon, to conceal it from Newt, and it had done a good job for a long while, giving Newt a harder time than the velociraptors.

Once Borhem was a few dozen feet away, Newt dashed towards him.

“Watch out, Young Master,” the servant shouted, but Newt ignored it and struck. Newt’s head magically turned towards the bag, almost making him miss. Almost.

The granite blade struck the wooden shaft, and the wood snapped. In the slow flow of time, Newt watched the bag approach, heading straight for his nose. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the blow to come, thinking what he should do differently next time, when the broken training spear started flaking.

A wave of dust struck Newt’s face as he clenched his eyes shut. The blow never came. He was there, standing in the middle of his forest, the second heart demon defeated.

Newt opened his eyes and smiled. The first thing to cross his mind was not relief, or thrill of victory. Instead, he felt silly it had taken him so long to realize what he needed to do. The moment passed, and he focused on the future.

“One more, then I can break the realm barrier and confront Uncle.”