16th of Season of Earth, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

Three and a half moons had passed since Newt had started implementing Dandelion's suggestions to his realm. The going was slow, and even with the special chamber he had at his disposal, sculpting the entirety of his realm would take over three years.

On one hand, that was a huge amount of time to spend inside his realm; on the other, he might reach the fourth realm by the time he was twenty-one.

True to his master's promise, the chamber was his for half a day every day, with the rest of his time he spent on various forms of training. While Newt barely had any time to relax, he felt good about his progress, upgrading his spells, and even his skill with the spear.

Magmin's voice was getting stronger too, and the serpent sometimes even manifested. His appearance had changed though, and calling Magmin a winged serpent was no longer true. He had grown powerful clawed arms, and after doing a bit of research in the library, Newt discovered the creature had a name, and that it wasn't just a wyvern.

Magmin had become a zilant. While in appearance he only lacked legs to become a full dragon, in reality even with legs, he would merely be a winged drake. He lacked the horns, whiskers, and had too few clawed fingers on his limbs.

The library had also told Newt that dragons of spring and winter existed in their respective wealds, but that dragons of summer and autumn were never spotted by humans. Newt had a guess about Magmin's identity when he read that, but kept the information to himself.

Still, the idea that the Dragon of Summer "lived" inside his realm was an awesome thought. Dreadful as well. Newt still faced the lingering fear that Magmin might one day try to wrest the control of the realm from him.

Focus on your work.

Newt was about to work on the underground tunnel when the chime caught him by surprise. He had done half the work he intended for his session. Dejected, he sighed. Even with the best chambers he could reasonably get, and the expensive potions he was consuming, his speed was miserable.

"Wait." He frowned. "The speed at which I work hasn't declined yet, which means I have at least six or seven hours before I have to leave the chamber."

Newt waited, and no second chime came. He was about to continue his work when a chill traveled through his whole body. He was in danger.

Newt abandoned the work on his realm, opened his eyes, and found himself inside his sealed chamber. There was no dizziness; he had not overtaxed himself, and no imminent danger revealed itself.

Another chime sounded, and Newt left the room to see the clerk running and frantically hitting the runes of each chamber, chiming to those within.

"What—" Newt said just as the door to his right swung open.

"We're under attack!"

"Who's attacking?" Emeraldstreak asked, emerging from her own isolation chamber.

The clerk looked at the three elites in confusion. She was at the second realm, much older than Newt. Her biggest prospect in life was becoming an overseer, but even that was beyond her. She had no idea what was happening, and all three elites realized it at the same time as two more doors opened.

"We're under attack, let's go!" Blaze, the third elite, shouted, rushing towards the Chamber of Instruction's main hall.

Chaos ruled outside. Screams and clashing of steel and elements came from the distant outer students' living area towards the periphery of the island. High in the sky, higher realm mageknights battled. Flashes of fire, giant rocks, whirling tornadoes, and watery whips smashed against red waves, but made no sound.

Newt caught the scent before his mind processed what his eyes told him. Blood. Blood was everywhere. A blade of blood slashed a thundertitan-sized boulder, and the rock fell towards Newt and the others, but before it could land to crush them, it smashed against a shimmering dome, stone dispersing into dust which disintegrated into mana.

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Crimson rain fell on the shield, turning to pink mist as it evaporated like drops of water landing on a searing pan, but a bathtub's worth of blood fell through, splattering the jungle.

"The beach!" Blaze shouted, running towards the sound of the battle.

Newt once more glanced up, looking at the chaos and elemental havoc taking place beyond the safety of the order's defenses. He nearly sighed with relief that the defensive formation was fixed after his first bolt of heaven's wrath the previous year. Otherwise, the battle would have spelled disaster.

Emeraldstreak dashed after Blaze, ironically a water mageknight, clipping Newt on the shoulder and snapping him out of his daze. He ran. The notion of rushing towards a battle of unknown proportions, with his order's status a mystery, seemed rash, bordering foolhardy, but then he recalled his obligations towards the order.

Explorer's Gate would raise him, and he would protect it to the best of his ability, paying them back. With that thought, and with how much the order had invested in him, how the champions had saved his life twice during the summer solstices, Newt sent a surge of mana towards his legs and sprinted forth as fire burst beneath his feet.

He overtook his senior sister, then Blaze. Newt raced, trees blurring beside him as blood and elements exploded in the bright blue sky. A mountain of ice crashed above his head. Newt caught a glimpse of a broken body, wearing a red robe, smeared against the shield and gulped.

Why attack during the day? Newt managed to wonder before running into the open field and madness. A wall of yellow and green fought against a tide of red-robed madmen. Massive battles between non-awakened could make one's heart quiver; the battles of the same scale between lower realm awakened inspired pure terror.

Men and women jumped or soared, brandishing weapons glowing with the elements, protecting each other in the pandemonium of cries and screams, giving their all to battle against scarlet blades which drank any blood they shed. Rocks, ice, and body parts flew, accompanied by sprays of blood, which twisted and danced in the air.

Newt reached behind his back, grasping for his glaive, ready to charge, yet grabbed nothing but air. Save for spars and missions, he kept his weapon at his residence. Suddenly, he didn't know what to do. Rush to his residence? Fight barehanded?

Blaze, just as unarmed, rushed past him and threw himself into the melee. The man solved Newt's problem, and he charged into the thick of it with a furious roar. Granite Crust covered Newt's body, his hands transforming into flaming mauls, and he propelled himself with a fiery blast, smashing a cultist's head into a pulp.

The body landed on rubble. A scant handful of buildings and solitary walls remained of the outer students' settlement, even those disappearing as fighting spread and engulfed them. Emeraldstreak rushed over to Newt, trampling another cultist, her body encased in a translucent green shell.

A cultist stabbed the fresh corpse Newt had just made, the sword glowing an ominous scarlet, and Newt rushed him. He threw a punch, but the man dodged only for Emeraldstreak to pulverize him.

Third-realmers. The vast majority of the land-bound attackers were at the third realm. Newt ducked under a glowing blade, wondering in the back of his mind whether the fourth and fifth realmers had a separate battlefield.

How did they get here anyway?

An excellent question, but Newt lacked the time to think. His throat stung with phantom pain, and he jumped back. The blade flashed before his face, but he grabbed the cultist by the wrist and squeezed it into mush, the bloody barrier cracking and shattering under the pressure of Newt's enhanced body.

He almost took the sword, but the mere thought of wielding that blade called forth a storm of nausea. Newt let it fall, pulled the man forth, and realized she was a woman. His hesitation lasted the barest of moments before he ended her with a flaming fist to the head.

"Where's the gatemaster?" A shout came from the chaos, but nobody had a response.

***

Gatemaster Greenthorn placed the fine crystalline cup back on its delicate crystalline saucer. He had been waiting for the audience at the imperial capital for two weeks. The invitation had come sealed by the highest-ranking imperial minister's stamp, inviting him to discuss a matter too sensitive to commit to paper.

Greenthorn rarely visited the capital. There was really little reason to frequent the distant, obscenely overpriced city. Even when looking for extremely rare and valuable resources, it was much cheaper to seek them out through a network of contacts and friendly orders than to enter the royal capital and fall victim to a merchant's skinning knife.

As expected, the imperial family had received the gatemaster well. The invitation entitled him to a mana-rich environment not at all inferior to what he had at home. Given the way the imperials received their guests and how long they let them wait to show their might, the supreme quality accommodations came as a compensation for others to endure their whims.

But that was fine. Greenthorn had time. Besides, the tea and the highest quality delicacies he had received allowed him a minimal indulgence warranted by his high realm and status.

I'll be back home in a moon or two.

He had no reason to worry. The Eternal Light empire was a blue sky without a cloud in sight.

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