Magma Dragon Cultivation

47th of Season of Fire, 56th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt closed his eyes and tried to focus on his third eye, the mind’s eye. He willed himself to observe the world through his glabella, but his world remained dark, with lava gurgling and bubbling in the background.

Newt’s parents lacked the mythical organ. In fact, the last of their line who possessed the second spirit root was the honored ancestor, Lord Blazing Salamander. Unfortunately for the Blazing Salamander family, cultivators had no chance of leaving cores like spirit beasts. Their remains could not be used to augment others, and even their realm persisting as a secret realm, a bubble of space in a different reality, was a matter of chance. At least, as far as Newt was aware.

“I don’t feel anything,” the youth sighed and plopped down on his butt, watching the lava gush to form a volcano several hundred feet away from him.

Relax. Close your eyes and try again.

He did. Again and again, growing more irritated with each failed attempt.

I saw it form. I know I have it. But what if I don’t? My forehead burned with pain, just like my heart, but I only grabbed the lower orb.

Newt shuddered at the thought, his heart beating faster. Blood rushed through his neck so fast, he could feel it throb, and his vision spun. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, failing miserably.

“Even with a magma dragon’s core you are still trash,” his uncle’s voice whispered poison into his ear.

Newt’s heart moved from canter to a full gallop. His head started hurting and he grit his teeth, trying will the migraine away or plow through it. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the pain only burned stronger. A crack boomed in his ears, blood ran down his nose, and Newt’s dark world transformed.

The darkness became a swirl of colors. They ranged from nearly yellow orange to a violet that was nearly blue, from an almost white pink to an almost black color of blood. The ground pulsed with browns of all shades, and the jet of lava was an ever-flowing upward pillar which blended the colors.

How did I do this? Newt could see with his eyes closed, and when he reached for his forehead, he saw his fingers as vibrant red outlines, with earthen brown hidden beneath.

He winced in pain and jerked back his hand the moment he touched his cracked glabella. The third eye was extremely sensitive. And in the brief instant of contact, Newt’s fingers told him he was touching firm, smooth glass, rather than a squishy, slimy eyeball.

“Strange,” he muttered, then kept watching his realm. There were no solid edges, no definite lines separating objects. Even his hand seemed to evaporate and draw vapor from the air at the same time, ever flowing, ever shifting.

This will take some getting used to. He drew a deep breath to calm the queasiness in his stomach, then opened his eyes.

The familiar sight of his realm shuddered, then merged with the foggy vision of his third eye. Together, they blended into what humans might normally perceive, but with an added caveat of visible flows of energy. The most obvious one was the fountaining lava.

Fire energy stayed in the air, while the earth energy crashed down into the pool. Fire was still the dominant element close to the source, but towards the edges of the pool earth started to prevail as fire had drifted up into the air, until fire was almost completely gone and lava grew into a solid ring of volcanic rock.

Newt stared at lava’s bank, wondering what would happen if he punched a fist-sized hole in it.

Would it gush out, or stay the same? Several seconds after the question cropped up, an invisible force pierced the solid ring. Lava oozed out, viscous like honey, dribbling several small chunks to the ground before cooling and sealing the hole once more.

Neat!

Newt did not wait a second before focusing on the gentle slopes several yards away from him, at a place he believed the volcano’s crater would not reach. He imagined the tall pines from Magmin’s realm, but nothing happened.

A dozen seconds passed, Newt concentrating all the while, until suddenly a finger-thin spike grew from the ground. The geyser of lava diminished, reduced to half its height, growing weaker still as the thin stake reached ten feet in height. The construct wobbled, still rising, then it snapped and collapsed to the side.

Newt panted, sweat streaming down his face.

“You will never succeed. You’re a failure,” his uncle’s voice whispered a curse.

“Oh, shut up,” the youth grumbled and tried again, and again, and again. The whispers, taunts, and insults were distracting, and he did not dare imagine how difficult the work would be once those incorporeal voices became corporeal. Still, he made good progress, making his fire-earth trees thicker and taller with each attempt.

“I’ll have to destroy these things as soon as they manifest.”

“You will never beat me, former young master,” Newt’s old sparring partner said. “Let alone the new master. He has defeated your father in honorable combat, and you are but a pale shadow of a once great man.”

“Shut up,” Newt screamed, the heart demon having struck a nerve. “That snake didn’t even dare fight my father, using me as a hostage instead.”

Newt panted, but the servant and his uncle guffawed, roaring in mocking laughter.

“Laugh all you want. I will destroy you here, and I will beat you in the real world as well. Once I’m done, I’ll turn you into charcoal.”

The heart demons kept laughing, and Newt struggled to ignore them and focused on the task at hand.

The lava pool had grown wider and taller, slowly solidifying into a cone. Just like Magmin had said, there was no need for Newt to focus on drawing spiritual energy, the entire process was natural and self-sustaining.

The fire-earth tree had grown to two hundred feet, its crown massive, but Magmin’s creations were larger and more impressive than Newt’s attempts. The youth had trouble breathing, sweat streaming down his face and back. He sat down and wiped his face, looking at his masterpiece.

“Not good enough.” He tore it down, his third eye watching the earth energy and its fire core tumble down, crashing into the rocky ground.

The slope greedily devoured the debris; their earth and fire energies absorbed fully to help it grow.

“I’m tired. I need a break.”

He went down on his back, the black sky above showing a hint of red. It was nowhere near Magmin’s realm. The air was barely warm, and the ground had cooled slightly, the heat concentrating into the air and the bubbling lava pit, starting to separate earth and fire elements.

“Wait,” Newt suddenly realized something which should have been obvious from the start. “Magma dragon is a dual element spirit beast. Magmin should have earth techniques, not just fire-based ones.”

He lay on his back, scratching his scalp through the messy, long hair.

“That technique is probably good enough that Magmin is afraid I could tip the scales with it, or at least give me a fighting chance, if it exhausts itself fighting the pterodactylus. Whatever the case, I need to learn it. It could be the difference between life and death when I confront Uncle.”

He just breathed, staring into shimmering nothingness above.

“How do I trick him into teaching me?”

Newt pondered, minutes trickling by, yet he found no answer.

“I’m tired.” He yawned. “I need to sleep.”

With that, he snapped out of meditation and yawned in Magmin’s realm.

“Did you make any progress? It has been three days. The pterodactylus shrieked and circled around us for almost a full day before going elsewhere to hunt for food.” Magmin’s nervousness was palpable, the very air pushing Newt down.

The youth took a moment to realize it was the ceiling pressing down on him. The space seemed to have grown tighter.

“Could you make the cave a little bigger?” He finally understood that Magmin had full control over his realm, and with a bit of time, he could make minor adjustments.

Newt expected the ceiling would go up, but instead the cavern floor slowly sank until he could sit comfortably.

“Progress?” Magmin hissed.

“I have made good progress. My fire-earth trees are tall and strong, but I know I can make them better. But I have grown sloppy in my work. I just need to rest a little and recover.”

“Rest?” Magmin hissed. “We are in a hurry. We need to defeat that pterodactylus so I can make a perfect advancement.”

“I just need several hours of sleep,” Newt said, then finding a proper excuse. “You could gather the spirit gems I will need to reach the sixth layer.”

“Sixth?” Magmin hissed, Newt catching the fury in snake’s voice. “Why sixth?”

“We agreed you would teach me Magmin Flames.” Newt had an idea.

He willed his third eye open to test it. There was no pain, no physical change, but instead of a dark cave, he saw a swirl of earth energy, and a blazing serpent of fire and earth staring at him. Newt could not see Magmin’s eyes, but he guessed the serpent’s vertical pupils were as thin as hairs as it stared murder at him.

“Fine. Do you know how many spirit gems I will have to gather? It will take days. Days!” The serpent hissed, its body swaying.

“That will give me enough time to figure out how to create proper fire-earth trees, or maybe I should call them Magmin Pines? Since you’re the genius who invented them.”

The compliment mollified Magmin. Still, the serpent snorted before turning around and facing the exit.

“I will gather what you need. I expect your realm will be solid by the time I have collected them all.” It started slithering away, grumbling aloud, “Four hundred and fifty, I need to gather four hundred and fifty gems for a cursed amphibian.”

Exhausted, Newt drifted to sleep even before the serpent stopped at the cave entrance and eyed the sky with suspicion.