47th of Season of Fire, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

Saurian onslaughts — dreaded events of mass death and destruction in all kingdoms of the Eternal Light Empire. While generally centennial, there had been instances of consecutive years with manabeasts spewing out of the wealds. On the other hand, periods of extended peace occurred from time to time.

Newt was born and grew during one such period of grace, but Gatemaster Greenthorn's intrusion into the weald had drawn the ire of one or more exalted manabeasts, and the summer kingdoms were going to pay a hell of a price in blood and property for his transgression.

With a surge of mana, Newt obeyed the gatemaster's order, and flames devoured the letter the man had left for him to explain the horrible situation.

Thank you. Newt was grateful the exalt hadn't dragged him away. Considering how much the order had invested in him, he had every right to do so, but the gatemaster had given Newt a chance to help protect his home from the latest tribulation the Salamandra clan was about to face.

Newt rose to his feet, the room spinning and tilting. He took a moment to steady himself and looked around, finding his uniform washed and neatly folded at the base of his bed while his glaive stood in the corner.

One step at a time. You can do this.

Dressed, he opened the door and found a frail man with gray hair and snow-white beard waiting for him.

"Teacher." Newt offered a respectful half-bow. "How are the preparations going?"

Stronggrow returned a much deeper bow to his patriarch. "Lord Exalt warned us the day before yesterday, when he brought you back home. We have started the evacuation of Harthow and surrounding villages, and we have sent a team of first realm knights led by Plowson to warn the nearby settlements."

Newt smiled despite the grim circumstances, recalling his old heart demon. "How is Plowson doing?"

"His lingering injuries are healed, and he has reached the peak of the first realm, but he has unresolved heart demons. He asked, politely, but I won't allow him to advance to the next realm until he handles them. How are you, Newstar?"

"I'm…" Newt wanted to say he was doing well, but the past moons had scarred him, and the gatemaster didn't help assure him, staying silent about the state of affairs at the Explorer's Gate, save that he would send reinforcements. "… tired. But I hope I'll be better soon. Well, after the onslaught, anyway."

Newt and his teacher kept chatting as the old man took him to the highest tower of their castle. From up high, he observed the columns of refugees laden with food and valuables as they took the winding paths up the mountain, heading towards the Salamandra clan's castle.

"Lord Exalt estimated the saurians will be upon us within a week, so we have five more days before they attack. But we have no way of knowing what's happening in the jungle."

Newt had a theoretical understanding of what a saurian onslaught entailed - roughly two to three moons of frequent saurian sightings, attacks on isolated settlements, the destruction of all human development outside fortified areas, until the saurian menace reached a critical mass and started attacking the fortifications.

Newt's clan seemed horribly situated, close to the border of the weald, but their location had an advantage as well. Dragon's Rest mountain extended into the Summersweald, splitting saurians in two forces. Furthermore, when saurians united, the stronger ones kept to the center of a given force, meaning the castle at the fringes would only see the weakest attackers, unless something exceptional grabbed the attention of the horde's leader.

But even such strategic planning didn't mean clan's survival was guaranteed. Even if the saurians didn't breach the walls, there were many other challenges to face.

"Do we have enough food?" Newt asked.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"Our stores are full, and refugees are bringing everything they can from their granaries."

Lines of cattle moved along with the humans, mostly trudgers, but Newt spotted several large packs of hoppers shepherded by numerous villagers.

How many are too far to make it? Newt didn't have the strength to hear the answer to that question, so he didn't ask. He had seen too much death, faced too much hardship, it was better to keep the abandoned people as unknown numbers than actual human victims.

Dammit.

"I'll go warn the more isolated communities. I'll be back in four days."

"Newstar! You can barely walk!"

But Newt had already kicked off the tower, jumping into the distance. He glided down towards the base of the mountain on a self-created current of hot air and hit the ground running.

The day was sweltering; the sun hung high in the sky, and Newt was running once more.

I was unconscious for two days. I should've been fine, but the gatemaster's no healer. He cured me with potions, but instead of replenishing me, they had taken an extra toll on my body. Still, even if I walk, I'm faster than first realm knights sprinting.

With no other option, Newt ran. Not a soul to sense in the closest farms and villages, but after crossing forty miles in two hours, he reached a settlement in which people scurried, packing wagons and filling sacks with food and their earthly belongings. Newt watched in disbelief as an elderly woman tied ropes around a heavy wooden chest decorated with intricate carvings so that she could carry it on her back.

The problem was that the chest was heavier than she was. At least that's what Newt guessed based on the drag-marks on the ground and heavy iron reinforcements.

"Excuse me, I don't think you'll be able to carry that," he said.

"My husband made this—" she started, but Newt ran off. He had warned her, and the minutes he wasted listening to her life story and the chest's life story were minutes he didn't spend warning the other unsuspecting villages.

The next village was a similar hub of furious packing and people fleeing towards the Salamandra clanhold.

Sixty miles. Newt considered the distance. They can make it in five days, even encumbered, but what about the next village? Should I tell them to flee deeper into the kingdom? They would be safer for the moment, but what happens when the outbreak spreads deeper into our lands?

Newt kept running, but the responsibility for two to three hundred lives weighed more than a mountain. A scream drew him out of his thoughts.

He sped up, and a quarter of a mile ahead reached an overturned hand-drawn cart. A man lay in the dirt next to it, his head bloody. Newt was about to check on him when another scream came from the nearby trees.

He sprinted over and found seven men tearing at a woman's clothes, laughing. Two awakened at the first realm were the ringleaders, their five henchmen were regular, non-awakened men in their mid-twenties.

An onslaught is upon us, and you're robbing and raping? Newt watched the scene in disbelief for a split second before flames burst into existence atop his clenched fists.

He roared, and in seven moves too fast for non-awakened eyes to follow extinguished the lives of the bandits.

"Are you all right?" he asked the shocked young woman. She was dirty, her hair a mess, her face wet.

Newt didn't know what to do, but remembered stories where people slapped shocked people back to their senses. He gave her cheek the lightest pat he could manage, and the woman looked at him with wild eyes.

"You're safe. They are dead. Can you understand me?"

She nodded.

"Your brother, husband, or whatever is by the cart. I'm going to check on him, and then I have to go. I have to warn other villages about the danger, do you understand me?"

She nodded again and followed Newt out of the copse of trees.

Thin mana flowed through the young man, meaning he was alive. Newt touched his neck and confirmed the heartbeat. It seemed strange, but Newt lacked even the basic medical training, so he couldn't tell anything else.

"He's alive." He grabbed the cart, tilted it to the side, and emptied it as gently as he could. Then he set it upright and put the unconscious man into it before turning to face the very indecent woman.

"You should put on some of these spare clothes; the ones you are wearing are ruined." The woman blushed and covered herself up, suddenly making Newt feel awkward. "Once you're dressed, pack your things as best as you can. Food is the most important, money and things for barter second. If your… man doesn't wake up soon, maybe make him more comfortable and then pull the wagon to the next village. I have to run now."

He turned to leave, but the woman called out.

"Thank you," she stuttered, "for saving me. Us. Thank you."

Newt smiled, then realised it was inappropriate.

"Take care of yourself and survive this." He nodded, then started running again.

I wonder if things will return to normal at some point or will I spend the rest of my life running from one place to another?

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.