Magma Dragon Cultivation

57th of Season of Fire, 56th year of the 32nd cycle

Cultivators defined the Perfect Realm as one free of heart demons, cultivated exactly according to its master’s wishes. Most cultivators ignored it, rushing forward, seeking power which comes with increased spiritual energy capacity, extended longevity, and refined physique.

Newt’s father, however, insisted on this perfection. “One reaches further with perfect preparations, one builds a taller, sturdier building with stronger foundations.”

Newt’s uncle disagreed, his envy and fears accumulating until they severed his path to advancement. Any heart demons not resolved before advancing a realm would evolve, growing stronger, more cunning, and more malicious.

For that reason, Newt spent hours exploring his realm, fixing any imperfections he found, searching for his final heart demon. At the edge of his realm, mere yards away from the barrier, he found it.

Spotting the pit from uphill was impossible, but upon reaching the giant cavern, Newt found its entrance a replica of his ancestral home. The open gate was identical, as was everything beyond it, assuming everything in the real world was painted black.

Newt passed an underground courtyard, lava burning in the lamps and providing illumination much like his home at night. Given the layout, Newt knew where his uncle would be.

His footsteps echoed as he passed empty hallways and entered the grand audience chamber, in which Newt’s uncle sat on an elevated throne. Newt focused on the carved seat and the armrests sculpted like twin salamanders, the fearsome spirit beasts glaring at the patriarch’s supplicants.

“You cannot defeat me,” the voice said from atop the throne. “Leave, expand our realm. I will not bother you.”

“You are a mere heart demon,” Newt said, looking up to meet his uncle’s gaze.

“You are a mere waste. My brother’s reverse scale,” the handsome man replied without skipping a beat. “Yet here we are.”

“You are a delusion, a product of my mind.” Newt tried to remain calm, but his voice still trembled when he said the words.

“You are a disappointment, a product of my brother’s loins. Leave.” The voice of Newt’s uncle remained calm and cold, crushing the young man’s will.

They looked alike. Newt was a malnourished, dirty version of his uncle. Their features were almost identical, save for their eyes. Where Newt’s were sapphire blue, his uncles were an orange-yellow, almost like a reptile’s, a common feature of a clan whose ancestor integrated the legendary salamander’s double cores.

Newt looked up, his uncle looked down, and the youth bellowed in rage, summoning a granite glaive into his hand. The earth moved to obey, then stilled and went back into the ground.

“Leave,” the heart demon repeated, but the youth would have none of it.

Furious, he charged up the five steps, unarmed, intending to bite his tormentor. The seated man waved his arm, slapping Newt with such force his head burst.

The young man awoke in the mine, gasping.

That was stupid beyond words.

He closed his eyes and reappeared next to the blazing crater. He summoned a spear, transmuted his body into granite and headed to face his uncle again.

“You cannot defeat me,” the lord of the manor repeated the exact same words in the exact same tone. “Leave, expand our realm. I will not bother you.”

Newt did not argue with his heart demon. There was no need. The creation would lack intelligence until evolving at least once.

Newt charged, stabbing with his glaive, and for the first time, the heart demon moved. It bent back, toppling the throne as Newt’s spear whistled above its head. It kicked, its heavy foot smashing into Newt’s abdomen.

Newt flew backwards, surprised the blow had not disturbed his meditation. He crashed into the wall, sending chips flying, but before he could gather his bearings, the heart demon was upon him.

A fire-coated fist smashed into his face. The Granite Crust remained undamaged, but the heat rushed into Newt’s head, and he awoke in the mines, clutching his skull. The illusory burning persisted, and Newt screamed.

What was that? He stood up, arms and legs shaking.

Terrified, he grabbed his pickaxe and wandered down the tunnels until he reached an underground pond. He scooped up a handful of water, and looked at it and himself, taking a moment to collect himself and his thoughts.

I will do this. He splashed his face, goosebumps forming from the sudden cold. Newt drank his fill and washed his face, still dealing with the trauma.

With his face cold and wet, he finally calmed down and sat to meditate. He closed his eyes, and once in his realm, Newt summoned Magmin Scales and Granite Crust, the original skills, not his improvised versions, which he realized were less than perfect and less than ready for practical use.

“You cannot defeat me,” the heart demon began, but Newt did not listen.

He charged up the steps, cleaving down with the glaive. The heart demon dodged to the side and the glaive struck the throne. It cut halfway through the seat before it got stuck, exposing Newt’s flank to his heart demon’s attack.

The heart demon struck with flaming fists three times in quick succession before Newt swept his arm at its face. The demon dodged backwards, once more using the opening and kicking Newt into the wall.

The youth fell, and the heart demon straddled him, landing blow after flaming blow until it overcame Newt’s defense and burned his head again.

Newt hissed, rather than screamed. The pain was almost unbearable enough for him to lose his day’s meal.

I don’t have food to waste. He clenched his teeth and breathed until he recovered.

Newt tried again and again. He was getting better, but no matter how his proficiency increased, his uncle always overpowered him.

He was already tired, he had been struggling for hours, and it was time to stop. He went back up, taking a spirit gem, and bringing it over to the guards.

“Meat tomorrow,” he said, and got no response.

Newt retreated to the safety of the darkness, where he crumpled on the hard ground and went to sleep. He was out cold as soon as he hit the floor, the day’s violence and battles haunting him even in his dreams.

Newt awoke hours later. He rested so little, a part of him wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But bright futures were built through hard work, and Newt wanted his brilliant.

He drove away the lingering drowsiness and started testing the last thing he thought of last night. Newt tried moving, punching, and jumping the way he did in his realm and swiftly confirmed his guess, physical feats his avatar could perform within his realm did not translate automatically to the real world. Meaning, his realm was a poor place to practice spear and unarmed combat techniques, and doing so would only waste his time.

Then he moved on to the second part of his test. Newt poured fire-aligned spiritual energy from his realm into the body. He willed it into making Magmin Scales, which formed perfectly. He found Granite Crust just as responsive, despite almost never using it outside his realm.

The youth smiled and reinforced the rest of his body before slamming a fist into the wall. Sparks and bits of granite flew, but Newt felt no discomfort, like striking a mattress or a straw dummy.

Alright, so fighting uncle brings me no benefits in the real world. I’m not learning martial arts, and there’s no need to practice spiritual techniques mid combat, since my real body will behave differently under the same circumstances.

That being the case, Newt entered his realm, and created four javelins before heading out to his heart demon’s palace.

“You cannot defeat me,” the heart demon started and swatted a javelin. It stared at Newt for a moment. “Leave.”

Newt considered throwing another javelin, but walked up towards the heart demon instead. When he was two steps away, the heart demon stood, ready for battle. Newt hesitated, gripping the spear, but no matter how he thought about it, he stood no chance when both he and his uncle had unlimited spiritual energy and his uncle’s fists ignored the hardness of Newt’s skin.

“I cannot defeat you,” Newt said, feeling stupid at what he was doing. “But my Father can.”

Newt looked behind the heart demon’s shoulder. “Dad, get him!”

The heart demon turned around, panic clear in its face, and a javelin pierced his lower back, digging up towards his heart.

Newt watched the heart demon collapse, a black rod sticking out of it for a heartbeat, before the shadow of Newt’s uncle dissolved into nothingness.

Newt felt empty. Slaying a ghost of his uncle did not help solve the real problem waiting outside the mine, nor resolve his conflicted feelings.

“You would have made an excellent sparring partner if the skills I gained fighting you persisted outside my realm. But as things are, you were merely an obstacle. Just like the original.”

Newt stared at the ground for a while, then willed the cave to collapse as he left it. The next item on his agenda was fixing the imperfections he had made in his experimentation and fights against his heart demons.

Newt spent days combing the entire realm, erecting new Magmin Pines, and reshaping the lava streams to incorporate fire glyphs. Eventually, seventy days later, he was ready.

Newt’s father described the process as a violent push to shatter the realm barrier, but Newt found it completely different. His own realm had swelled to the brink of destroying the boundaries all on its own.

He had struggled to suppress his realm to give himself enough time to finish cultivating it. So, when the final lava glyph came into place, Newt released the floodgates, and the realm barrier shattered all on its own.