3rd of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt reached the northern training field an hour and a half before noon. His new uniform fit perfectly, but nobody noticed, since sect uniforms were supposed to fit perfectly anyway. Or at least that was the case with everyone using the training area.

Elders instructed lone disciples or groups which ranged from two to five, while others trained without obvious elders’ supervision.

The training ground was a vast expanse with a hard-packed earth floor, but much softer than the compressed earth used for the buildings. The most bizarre detail was that people were opening mouths, making grimaces, obviously shouting and screaming, yet other than the jungle noise, no sound reached Newt.

He observed his fellow disciples train for a dozen heartbeats with a growing sense of unease before he found the source of his discomfort. His third eye saw nothing. Newt focused on his newest sense and closed his eyes, but the open field was just that, a field. No people, no distant trees, just a clearing with drifting ambient spiritual energy carried by the mysterious flows he did not yet understand.

Newt then opened his eyes and watched what others were doing, trying to guess their realms based on their actions.

A fire cultivator drew his attention immediately. The bearded man shot a spindle-shaped bolt of flame, which flew thirty feet before dispersing into a chaotic mess. Newt closed his eyes again, replaying the scene. The front end remained thin like a needle, the flame spiraling from it, down the body of the fiery spindle. Once it reached the ten feet mark, the shape started disintegrating, but the swirling motion kept it together even as the front grew shorter and more bloated.

The movement he imprinted into the shape kept it consistent even after it left his sphere of influence. He’s just a third realm, like me.

Newt opened his eyes. The idea was fascinating, definitely something to memorize for later and try to apply to extend the reach of his flames.

The next cultivator was making beads of water in the air. Before the drops could fall like rain, they inflated, becoming bubbles and floated in place. One after another, she made seven bubbles, then started contracting them until they started sinking towards the ground and expanding them once more after they fell below her knees.

An elder observed the training girl, clapping her hands without a sound. Newt stared in awe, then his mouth opened when he realized the tempo at which the bubbles changed in size matched the elder’s claps, which came quicker and quicker until the disciple could no longer match her pace and the sparkly bubbles burst.

“She is training fine control.” Newt jumped out of his skin when Elder Alabaster spoke right next to his ear.

“Boy, you are jumpy and unaware of your surroundings,” she continued, mildly amused. “We’ll have to work on that as well. Even if you space out, you have to know what’s happening within your kill zone at all times.”

Newt clutched his heart, the skin on his back crawling, as he glared at his master. Then he bowed.

“I apologize for the shameful display,” Newt said, and even he was uncertain whether he was referring to jumping like a startled compsognathus or glaring at his master.

“It’s fine, you’re new.” Elder Alabaster waved away at his apology, shooing it with her hand. “Now, as you can see, most are training in fine control, rather than new techniques or brute force. Why?”

Newt considered the question, trying to find the trick, but when he failed to spot one, he answered.

“Because you train your new abilities and their power inside your realm, but fine control is impossible, because you need a body to see how spiritual energy interacts with it and an environment you aren’t controlling?”

“Excellent. Eleven-point-five out of twelve. I docked half a point because you’re missing something important to many people.” Elder Alabaster made a pause, letting Newt add to his answer, but he remained silent. He had already said everything he could think of.

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“You get to show off in front of others. Demonstrating your superiority is just as important as being superior. Brook forced her disciple with the bubbles far beyond what was necessary as a training exercise to show what an outstanding student she has.”

Newt nodded, sort of understanding what his master was talking about.

“Did you bring me here to show off, Master?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I brought you here because you’re going to be a punching bag. Everyone wants to look good, and they will do so by stepping on the new guy’s head. Finding partners for a friendly, educational spar is difficult on many levels, but everyone here outclasses you right now in terms of combat ability, and they will beat you in the flashiest way possible. It’s an excellent way for me to see where you stand.”

Newt looked at his master and the sparkle in her eyes. They glistened with an eager light, and he was certain something was wrong with her head.

“I don’t even have a proper weapon, Master. I only know the simplest techniques related to fire, and almost nothing related to earth.”

“You’ll be fine.” Elder Alabaster clapped Newt on the shoulder, staggering him. “What kind of weapon are you looking for?”

Will she buy me a weapon? I don’t mind being paraded like an incisivosaurus, if it gets me a good weapon.

“A heavy spear, preferably a glaive with a short-sword-length blade.”

“How long?”

“A senior told me a good spear is as long as its user is tall.”

Elder Alabaster sized Newt up once, then bent and dipped her hand into the ground. Newt watched a surge of energy storm into the ground, which rippled like water at the tidal wave of force which had entered it.

No way?

The next moment, Elder Alabaster raised her arm, an earthen-brown glaive in her hand.

“I dulled the edge, let me know if the weight suits you.”

Newt stared at the glaive, in his third eye it blazed like a star, overflowing with earth energy.

“You may close your mouth, this is a mere parlor trick. Try to find yourself a suitable weapon for training and missions.”

Newt snapped his jaw shut, nodded, and took the outstretched polearm his master was offering to him. The tiny woman held the weapon like it weighed nothing, deceiving Newt, who almost stumbled from the sudden weight.

He sent a surge of earth-aligned spiritual energy, reinforcing his bones and muscles, making the unbearable weight feel comfortable.

Elder Alabaster’s lip twisted in disgust. “Newstar, I will teach you a proper body reinforcement technique, what you’re using looks like something a child made up on the spot.”

“I made it up on the spot last year and kept using it.”

Elder Alabaster once more patted his shoulder. “You’re a very talented child. Use that talent to customize existing techniques and increase their compatibility with your body. While not completely horrid, your self-made technique is many generations of improvements behind the ones I know.”

Newt was offended. He knew he should not be. Something he came up with while desperately rushing to burn his energy cannot rationally be better or have a sturdier foundation than a technique practiced by an entire sect for generations, and yet, his unnamed technique was his.

“Why are you sulking, you silly boy? I will dissect everything you know in search for flaws. I will rarely offer answers, usually just pointing out the problems and telling you what you need to do. Given your talent, that should help you improve more. Come on, follow me.”

Elder Alabaster led the way, weaving around the invisible barriers until she found a clear patch and stopped. “We will train here, don’t mind all those stares.”

Newt glanced back, catching several heads snapping away from him and his master.

“I just told you not to mind them.” Elder Alabaster touched the bridge of her nose, then ignored what just happened. “You will show me your techniques, and once you’re done, I will point out what flaws I can. In the meantime, I will offer some advice regarding life in the Explorer’s Gate. Feel free to start.”

Newt just stood there. He knew a handful of techniques, and the way Elder Alabaster was talking she must have expected to see hundreds.

“Well, go on.” She motioned as if shooing him. “Your team is your everything until you enter the core sect. Except in individual tests, your results are calculated as a group, all of it stemming from available missions.”

“My team is—” Newt did not know what his team was. Drunk and disorderly? Indecent? They had given up? He mumbled into silence, his skin covered in Magmin Scales, and Magmin Flames consumed him, swallowing his embarrassment.

“I see. You already have some issues with your team. That rarely happens to good disciples. If things are beyond repair, you will regress into the outer sect, and when you advance again, you will have a team more to your liking.”

She looked at Newt. “All right, I see you can burn, self-immolation is not my expertise, move on to the next technique.”

This is the flashiest thing I have to show, though… Newt gulped and covered himself in Granite Crust.