88th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd imperial era

Blue rivulets, their color as deep as an ocean, veined the macetail's carapace. The saurian's spike-covered plate armor was in tatters, clawed and pried opened by a powerful beast, several times larger than a raptor. Thin patterns of blood danced in foot-wide bubbles of water, which covered the three deepest gashes while caked blood covered the rest of the fortified giant's wounds.

The saurian itself was roughly the regular size for its species, nearly twenty-five feet long, seven feet tall, and wider than it stood. It hissed at the pack of raptors darting in and out, often feinting, but still striking every so often.

Newt observed the scene from fifty-odd yards away. He sat on a branch twelve feet off the ground, analyzing the combat, and drew certain conclusions.

The fire-attributed raptors were obviously not the ones who had originally wounded the macetail. The wounds beneath the water burst the bubbles from time to time in powerful sprays, hinting at the air nature of the wound and the manabeast which had inflicted it. A huge air-attributed predator, but one not powerful enough to overwhelm the macetail immediately, in fact, it might have died in the attempt. Otherwise, it would have finished the job and eaten its meal.

While Newt watched, raptors lashed out again and again, whipped into a frenzy by the higher realm saurian's wounds. All of them would greatly benefit from the kill, but devouring the macetail's core would help their pack leader evolve.

And Newt had an easy enough time spotting the leaders. Two human-sized raptors with fiery-red crests and wicked talons observed their spawn run in, claw at the macetail's water bubbles and soft belly, then return before the fatigued beast retaliated.

Newt focused on the leaders and estimated them at the third realm, but he wasn't certain. The mana's glow was faint from fifty yards away, and the miniature storm of clashing fire and water obscured it even further.

Newt focused on the lone giant. Its aura was thicker, but it seemed its mana was running low. Newt believed the macetail was near death when one of the raptors proved too slow. Macetail's bony tail screamed through the air and smashed into the attacker's chest. Mana flared, and the beast's torso folded, its bones crunched before the raptor rocketed into the bushes.

The beast was dead before it fell. The origin of the battered bodies Newt had encountered along the way was revealed in a single careless moment and a brutal flick of a tail, which almost certainly destroyed the raptor's core.

I'm lucky I found three.

Newt kept observing the battle as the number of second realm raptors dwindled from nine to eight to seven. Half a day passed, and the macetail had given up on healing itself, focusing all its energy on defense. But as its energy gave out, so did the relentless raptors.

Of the original pack, which must have numbered several dozen, only the two alphas remained. The macetail's bellows of what Newt recognized as indignant rage had turned into fatigued hisses. Newt could almost hear it trying to dissuade the raptors from a mutually assured destruction, but greed blinded the predators.

They simultaneously leaped at the macetail, aiming for the gaping wounds. The lethal tail mace smashed one, and mana flared from it, momentarily blinding Newt's mindcore. The other raptor reached the wound. Its powerful talons dug into the flesh, and it sank its head deep into the gash to feast on the still living herbivore.

Macetail thrashed and fell, its whines begging, but the predator was merciless. As was Newt. With blasts of hot air, he charged. The macetail lay immobilized on the ground, no longer a threat, while the raptor was too absorbed in its meal.

The voracious predator raised its head and looked towards the sudden sound, but it was too late. Newt's sword found its throat, and the last surviving raptor jumped away, tearing open the already mortal wound. The saurian fell the moment it freed itself, its dead body twitching on the ground.

I reaped the fisherman's benefit. The young man smiled, recalling all the stories in which the cunning hero observed and waited until landing the critical blow which ended the battle and brought them fame and fortune.

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After enjoying his moment of triumph, Newt got to the ghastly work of checking the bodies. He rushed to the macetail, the most powerful and most valuable prize. He used the wound as an entry point, slashing and parting flesh, but just like his mindcore had indicated, the core was gone, destroyed in the heat of battle or collapsed from overexertion. Its mana dispersed into the flesh and slowly dissipated into the air.

Newt stared at the giant corpse. He had wanted to give that core to Plowson, to reward the servant for his loyalty, but fate would not have it.

Maybe it's a blessing? What would he do with a water-aligned core?

Newt used that thought to suppress his disappointment and moved to the third realm raptors. The one he had slain had an intact core, while the other's was shattered, along with its bones and organs. Newt then went through the second realm spirit beasts, but just as his mindcore had suggested, the furious macetail had destroyed all their cores.

Newt sighed, fishing out all four cores he had scavenged. Three were plum sized and shrinking as their mana slowly dissipated. The process would last several weeks until they shrunk to the size of an olive, at which point the cores would stabilize or collapse.

There's no need to wait until then. We should have more than four promising candidates at the clanhold. Newt reserved the fist-sized third realm core for Plowson, while Stronggrow and Marrow could distribute the remaining three as they saw fit.

And what do I do with this? Newt gazed at the macetail's corpse. The flesh could be used for alchemy, the carapace to make armor, while the tail was a natural mace, and a passing merchant should be interested in the bones as well. The body alone was enough to support the clan for a long time, if Newt could immediately return with it, or at least stop its mana from leaking.

He lifted the macetail's tail and pulled, but despite his enhanced strength, the carcass did not budge.

Newt sighed, picked up the raptor, the one which didn't end its life as a meat patty, and carried it as he made his way towards the inn.

I hope the turbulent mana will keep normal saurians away. Newt worried scavengers and predators might eat his prize before he organized the villagers to help him transport it.

Even with the body of a raptor slung across Newt's back, Salamandra's Flight turned the several-hours-long trek into a ten-minute dash. He reached the inn well after sunset.

Newt opened the door, and all eyes of the crowded common room turned to him. A woman shrieked, the bloodied maw of a human-sized raptor causing her to faint, while the rest murmured and gasped.

"I got rid of your problem," Newt said before the room burst into murmurs. "But I need help."

The last sentence drowned the hushed conversation in the room, replacing it with absolute silence.

"I need five to ten spikebacks to pull a corpse out of the woods and haul it to the Salamandra castle."

"Lord Cultivator," the innkeeper protested, "entering the forest is dangerous even without slow-moving spikebacks. What if longclaws attack?"

"I will protect everyone who follows me, and I will pay for the work, the money will be good enough to make up for your losses. Also, I will head to the Salamandra clan and recruit one of their elders to help."

"I will come," the cabbage transporter said. "I have bought four spikies this morning, and I owe you a debt larger than life."

Following his lead, two other villagers offered a pair each, and Newt made an agreement to meet them at the forest's edge at sunrise the next day.

Newt bade the locals a good night and rushed towards the clanhold. The hours of leisurely walk would have taken less than an hour of sprinting under Salamandra's Flight, had Newt not noticed his mana running low. At half capacity, he stopped using the technique and ran normally.

Despite relying on nothing but his body, Newt crossed the distance in under two hours.

The sun had long since set when he reached the gate, which was well lit and guarded by two elderly clansmen at the first realm.

"Patriarch," they exclaimed when they saw Newt, wincing when they realized what he was carrying.

"Hello," Newt greeted with a smile, the dead raptor still slung across his shoulders. "I ran into an opportunity, and I need to speak with Sir Stronggrow."

One of the guards led Newt in, and the young man realized with a pang of shame that he didn't even know the man's name.

I need to learn all my clansmen's names, or at least the names of those who had awakened.

Newt and the unnamed guard reached Stronggrow's home and knocked on the door. Ten heartbeats later, the white-haired man opened the door. His face revealed concern, replaced by confusion and shock when he recognized Newt, who said he would be away for a long time, not a full day ago.

"Newstar! What are you doing here? Why are you carrying an evolved raptor's corpse?"

"Teacher, I have had a fortunate encounter, one which will benefit the clan, if only slightly. May I come in?"

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