2nd of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, but words failed him, and Elder Woodhopper’s smile grew wider.

“You are Newstar, a new inner disciple. It’s highly irregular for you to join the inner sect at this time.”

Newt nodded and clamped his mouth shut, feeling blood rush into his cheeks.

I’m a moron, I have to pull myself together. A part of Newt screamed, while another sighed. She’s beautiful.

Then the third, rational thought made itself known. She’s a void of spiritual energy.

The thought of the woman’s high realm immediately snapped Newt back to reality.

“Greetings, Elder,” he bowed, using the motion to collect himself.

“Yes, I am Newstar Blazing Salamander. Elder… Alabaster,” How the hell did I forget the name of my master for a moment? “has taken me as her disciple. I am here because the senior who handled me directly joining the inner sect told me I should get tested by you.”

Newt’s heart was beating embarrassingly quickly, he could feel himself burning as if he had used Magmin Flames without protecting himself with Magmin Scales. He kept a bowing position to put his body under control, but Elder Woodhopper did not give him the chance.

“At ease. Are you a member of the guild of beast tamers?”

Newt straightened himself, he was reluctant, but he had more or less regained control of his face.

“I’m not. And I don’t think I’m a real tamer either, I can only do snakes. I mean, I can make them listen to my commands, or at least more likely to have them listen to me.”

Elder Woodhopper gazed at Newt with an amused smirk and a sparkle of interest in her intelligent eyes.

“That sounds intriguing.” She touched her thin red lips with a slender, sun-kissed finger. “Let’s go to the pens and test your claim.”

She spun on her heels, her bare feet slapping the polished, impossibly hard earth from which the building was made. Newt stared at her back, mesmerized for a moment before trotting after her with much less dignity than he would have liked.

“You have no interest in being a beast tamer, do you?” Elder Woodhopper said, her voice just as cheery as it was when she introduced herself.

Newt gulped. “How did you know?”

“It’s obvious. You doubted yourself in the role from the start, no hope in your voice, and you’re talking about snakes, which might obey you, as things rather than companions.”

Newt could hear a bit of sharpness in her voice, a reprimand, and, as expected, her words grew harsher. “I would’ve just kicked you out, but you are somewhat interesting for a junior. The head administrator sent you here, you joined out of term, skipped a whole step of sect-life, and your snake specialization is out of the ordinary.”

She glanced back at Newt, flashing a genuine smile. “Besides, I owe some face to your ancestor. The descendants of slayers rarely join sects outside the sects in which they have achieved their grand feat.”

The way Elder Woodhopper spoke was the final straw that piqued Newt’s curiosity. He finally wondered what was so special about his surname, and the slayers mentioned in passing several times so far.

“Senior, do you mind if I ask a stupid question?”

“Go ahead, and there are no stupid questions.”

“What exactly,” Newt hesitated, “is a slayer?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Elder Woodhopper stopped, spun in a blur, and stared at Newt. The young man shied away, shrinking into himself.

“You really don’t know?”

Newt weakly shook his head, having a feeling he was embarrassing his ancestor.

“No offense, but your family has really sunk low if you don’t even know this much.” The note of pity in Elder Woodhopper’s voice landed like a slap. “The honorable slayers are extraordinary individuals who bested a fully evolved spiritual beast at the same realm in single combat.”

Newt did not understand what was so special about the feat. He himself had slain a frostworm his realm and did not find it a feat worthy of a title uttered with such reverence.

“You don’t get it. Do you know what’s the difference between fully evolved, evolved, and innate spiritual beasts? Do you know what’s the difference between spiritual beasts and regular beasts?”

“Spiritual beasts have spiritual energy?” Newt said, and Elder Woodhopper’s glare felt like another blow.

“What do they teach you youths? How can you have a double root and not know things this basic?” Anger rose in Elder Woodhopper’s voice until she suddenly reined it in. “I’m sorry. How old are you, what kind of education did you get?”

“Seventeen, and er.” Newt looked down to the ground.

“Sorry. You’re very young. Especially for your realm. Follow me, I will explain as we walk.” Elder Woodhopper turned around to hide the twinge of pity and sorrow pulling at her face. She could tell at a glance that Newt had gone through something better left unsaid.

“In its truest sense, spirit beasts are beasts that awaken their spirit, and have twin cores. Your answer is correct in slang and an abuse of specialized terms, but amongst beast tamers, that kind of fallacy is frowned upon. Spirit beasts before the sixth realm are so rare, they might as well not exist.”

She said the last part as if talking about the legendary one-horned stegosaurus.

“Now, regarding the more important question of fully evolved, evolved and innate spirit beasts. Innate spirit beasts are those who never surpass their natural limit and their parents’ realm. Evolved are those who surpass their innate potential by at least one realm, and can you guess what the fully evolved spirit beasts are?”

Newt considered the question for a moment and considered what he knew about Magmin. When Elder Woodhopper remained silent, showing she wanted an answer, he voiced his guess.

“Fully evolved spirit beasts are those evolved from regular, mortal beasts?”

“Correct. Do you know what makes them special?”

Newt considered the question, but eventually found no answer.

“No.”

“They start from the bottom. They fight for every scrap resource, for every bit of power they manage to snatch. Such spiritual beasts are clever, resourceful, their intelligence and techniques are beyond anything their peers have to offer. Their tribulations are terrifying, as the world itself tries to purge them, but those that survive are impossibly tough. They can usually crush anyone in their realm and even fight spiritual beasts of a higher realm. Even if they rarely win, they also rarely lose. They live deep in the Savage Wood, hoarding the best resources, occupying the richest spiritual veins.”

Elder Woodhopper, glanced back, and saw Newt properly awed.

“Do you now understand why I respect your ancestor? Why everyone with a shred of honor would respect them?”

Newt nodded, then his gaze turned hollow. Strangers respected his family, their tradition, and the meaning of their name, yet what did they do with it? Their family almost crumbled, extinguishing all memory of such a dazzling figure of his generation. But one thing made no sense.

“Why would anyone ever hunt such a dangerous creature by themselves?”

“To challenge themselves? To resolve a heart demon, to prove their bravery and wash away slander, to woo someone above their station. The reasons are countless, like reasons for everything humans do, like reasons for cultivation. The point is that few dare try, and nearly everyone fails. Even returning alive and maimed from such a venture is a rare glory and something people brag about, let alone achieving the feat.”

Newt walked in silence, considering everything he heard, and found a problem with the logic.

“Senior, I have another question. Why don’t higher realm cultivators strike down the fully evolved spiritual beasts?”

Elder Woodhopper burst into laughter. “You really know nothing. Go into the library and read. You need education more than you need to advance your realm, but I will humor you. In the long history of our empire, whenever anyone had that bright idea, the world was drenched in blood. Such action always sparked what is commonly known as dinosaur migration, but is in reality the ripples of violence as higher realm spiritual beasts came to answer the challenge to their authority. Fully evolved eighth realm spiritual beasts are as strong as ninth realm, ninths as tenth, tenth as eleventh.”

Elder Woodhopper paused to lend gravity to her words. “The one time a fully evolved tenth realm spiritual beast left Savage Wood was in the third cycle. The third emperor, our only combatant capable of fighting it, gave his life to slay it, their battle reshaping the terrain for hundreds of thousands of miles around.”

Newt gulped. He knew of a tenth realm, fully evolved spiritual beast. It was Magmin. So, for some reason Magmin had left his jungle, came into the human lands and started an annihilation which ended with mutual destruction of Magmin and humanity’s greatest warrior.

He knew he really should not ask, but the pull, the itch he felt, tugged at his tongue.

“What kind of spirit beast was it?” he said, his heart racing.

“A gigantic pterosaur of ice and wind, the records label it as the Cloud Monarch, but the accounts are so ancient, there are hardly any living humans who remember the incident.”