45th of Season of Fire, 56th year of the 32nd imperial era

Magmin graciously gifted Newt with a total of seventy-two translucent crystals, and the youth devoured them voraciously.

"How long do gems take to form?" Newt asked, looking at the tree, counting six remaining fruits, confirming this one too only had eight sparkling bits of manarium on it.

Magmin led the way uphill, collecting two gems from each tree they passed.

"The time varies, dunno why. A year on average. I have erected three hundred and eighty fire-earth trees in eight layers around the crater, each sprouting eight gems. I experimented a lot, destroying and recreating the fire-earth trees until I was satisfied. I tried packing them more densely or designing them to bear more fruit, but it just makes the gems take longer to reach their ideal size. If they are too small and frail, they shatter when they fall, and their energy does not reach the realm barrier. Instead, the volcano snatches it from me to grow taller, which really seems pointless."

Magmin looked back towards the invisible end of the slope, and Newt followed its gaze. "Positioning is also important. A gem crumbles over time if it rolls down and gets stuck behind a tree, and the mountain steals from me to further its growth. Greedy volcano."

"You're talking about the realm as if it has its own will and desires." Newt resumed his climb, spotting a reddish-orange glow of lava lazily flowing downhill a good fifty yards away. Magmin turned and shot him an exasperated glare.

"Your creations will have a nature, yes. Fire and earth combined wish to grow infinitely." Magmin hissed in frustration. "Wish is a wrong word. They have no wishes. They have tendencies. Yes! Fire and earth, when combined, tend to grow taller and taller and wider and wider the more lava they spew. Ha! I am a genius! I wasn't even aware I had attained such a high level of enlightenment. You are a useful student. Good newt."

Newt stared at Magmin flatly, but the oblivious reptile failed to read the emotion from Newt's circular pupils and the lack of tongue flicking didn't help either.

"As I said, what I gave you is a year's worth of energy I once gathered at the third layer of the first realm. It should help you reach the third layer and start building your own realm. Once you have sculpted your realm, we will proceed until you reach the fifth layer. Then you should be strong enough to help me defeat the mighty sharpbeak."

Newt nodded, noting that Magmin would only help him reach the middle of the first realm and not the peak. He also noticed that the plan had changed. Magmin no longer mentioned fighting the pterosaur alone.

It either fears me, or plans to use me as a discardable pawn. Bait?

"Why the fifth layer?"

"Because I will teach you an ability, and you need at least that much energy to use it," Magmin replied without pause.

"Which ability?"

"I call it Magmin Scales. It makes your skin impervious to fire. No mere stone would hurt the mighty sharpbeak, and if you want to attack it at range, you will have to throw lava at it."

"Throw lava?" Newt tripped. "You know an ability which can make me immune to fire?"

Newt couldn't believe his ears. Becoming immune to fire would give him an immense advantage over a large population of mages and knights. More importantly, it would make him invincible within his family, whose mages had practiced fire-related techniques for generations.

"Immune is a heavy word. I would call it being temporarily impervious to heat. Unless I am wrong, at the fifth layer you should have enough time to throw lava twice before expending all your energy."

Newt nodded, staring into the distance. He wants to use me to throw two missiles and become the object of sharpbeak's wrath. Then, while the pterosaur is distracted, Magmin will strike. Maybe even finish me off while he's at it since running out of mana would make me helpless.

Newt tried to think of the situation just like his father had taught him, by putting himself into the other's skin, or scales in this instance, and then making sense of their words from the new perspective.

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"Do you perhaps know any other abilities?" Newt asked. "Something offensive to improve the odds of hitting the sharpbeak or a way for me to fight it in close quarters?"

Magmin stopped slithering and turned around once more. He gave Newt a long squint before nodding.

"I could teach you how to coat your fangs in flames and inflict burns with every bite," the serpent offered.

That sounds absolutely useless. Wait…

"Do you know how to cover all of yourself with flames?" Being able to set himself ablaze without suffering injuries sounded like a useful skill, but Magmin hesitated, its stare boring into Newt's skull.

"Yes, I could teach you Magmin Flames as well," Magmin said slowly. "But you would have to reinforce your skin first, lest you immolate yourself. You are an amphibian, your scaleless skin is water aligned, fire would quickly consume it and proceed to burn your own flesh for fuel. My nature is partially fire aligned, so both abilities are more effective and require less energy for me to use."

We should share elemental affinities if my core was formed from yours, meaning you are overestimating the amount of mana I would need to use your abilities. Which is good, but still…

"If that's the case, I will need a bit more energy to use Magmin Flames and protect myself with Magmin Scales." The youth hesitated for a moment, then decided he stood little to lose by flattering the magma dragon's primordial form. "It would make me part Magmin, I might even evolve in that direction."

Magmin did a strange side-to-side dance with his head for a second, before its pupils narrowed and he violently flicked his tongue.

"Yes, yes, we shall see. Now let us leave," the serpent said, resuming their upward journey.

He's definitely going to throw me into the volcano once I'm no longer useful.

Newt struggled not to gulp or show his nervousness while trying to figure out how to defeat Magmin. He had the same affinity as the serpent, but even if it helped him reach the sixth layer, he would still lag behind Magmin, both in terms of power and experience.

My only chance is to let it and the sharpbeak fight until they severely injure each other or better yet, until they kill each other, reaping the fisherman's profit.

"Here we are," Magmin snapped Newt out of his plots. The youth looked around in confusion, failing to see anything noteworthy. They had reached the edge of the black forest, the crater's rim shining red some two thousand yards away.

"The cave is over there." Magmin pointed towards a small fissure.

"I can't fit there." Newt stared at the foot-high and three-feet-wide crevice. For Magmin, it must have been a spacious cavern, but to him, it looked like a recipe to get stuck.

"Sure you can. Just sssqueeze." Magmin hissed the last word slowly, flicking his tongue before moving again. "Come, follow me."

The serpent didn't wait, nor did it check whether Newt followed. The young man glared at its back, clenching his teeth, then dragged his feet towards the crack.

Magmin slithered into the opening, and Newt went down on his belly, inwardly muttering curses. The ground was bumpy, but the bumps were smooth, lava covering whatever jagged edges once existed before cooling and becoming a solid, warm stone.

Just as Newt entered halfway into the hole, a shriek echoed from the flaming sky above.

The youth scrambled forward in wild panic when he caught the sound of rushing air. He grabbed a small protrusion and pulled himself inside.

Newt thought he had made it when his foot flashed with pain. He clenched his teeth and bent his legs, drawing them further in as blood stained the rock behind him. Unlike the gloomy mine, weakly illuminated with manarium slag, the cave was pitch black. Newt could not see, could not turn, and the only sound he could hear was the sharpbeak flapping its wings and scraping at the ground outside, clawing at the cavern's entrance to grab him.

Magmin slithered beside him, moving towards the hole leading out.

Oh, no! If the sharpbeak has landed and it's trying to crawl in, Magmin could grab it and either constrict or burn it to death. Meanwhile, I'm utterly helpless here.

"It flew off," Magmin hissed, and even though he could not see him, Newt knew the serpent was angry. "And stop thrashing. It is just a scratch, barely any blood leaking. You will be fine."

"Are you certain it won't try to crawl in here?"

"Of course it would never crawl! sharpbeaks are mighty predators, the terror of the skies. Why would they ever touch ground? Even lowering itself to reach us must insult its pride."

Newt blinked. "You mean it doesn't land? Ever?"

"Never," Magmin said with fanatical conviction. "If it can live in the sky, why would it crawl on the ground?"

You have never seen a real sharpbeak, have you? Newt thought, recalling how the pterosaurs tore at the fruits in his family's orchard, fighting over scraps and wallowing in the mud and grass without a shred of dignity Magmin attributed to them.

They were not the most agile creatures on their stubby hind legs and folded wings, but they walked and pecked at each other well enough. That's not bad. If it thinks the sharpbeak can't crawl, that means its heart demon most definitely can't move properly on the ground, and we can exploit that.

"Now, enough chatting. Close your eyes and focus on your realm. I will explain everything. You just follow my instructions."

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