A month passed since Newt celebrated his birthday, but the information he anticipated regarding the storage ring remained elusive. Meanwhile, his parents, caught in the intricate web of their businesses, seemed burdened with concerns.
Within the confines of their home, tension reached a breaking point.
"We never should have accepted that offer; now everything is in jeopardy!" Benedict's voice echoed with frustration.
"We could relocate, find safety far away," Jack proposed, desperate for a solution.
"And abandon everything our ancestors built, let it crumble to dust?" Benedict retorted, his anger evident.
A revelation hung in the air as Jack hesitated before confessing, "I've sold all our properties, converted them to gold. We just need to leave before they find us."
Benedict, at a loss for words, could only muster a stunned expression.
"We depart at dawn tomorrow," Jack declared, met with Benedict's resignation.
As the weight of their decision settled, Jack crumbled under the burden. "We shouldn't have gotten hold of that thing; everything is falling apart because of it."
Sienna, observing the scene, took charge. "I'll inform Newt; he needs to pack his belongings."
"As long as his future remains intact, I can endure anything," Jack uttered, his voice carrying a sense of defeat.
Sienna descended the stairs, and Newt, who had been eavesdropping, couldn't help but grapple with confusion.
'What did they get hold of?'
'A threat to the very fabric of our family.'
'Who is this formidable enemy that leaves them feeling utterly helpless?'
Newt retreated to his room, grappling with the danger that surrounded his family.
An hour or two passed, and Sienna entered Newt's room while he feigned sleep under the cover of a blanket.
She caressed his hair gently, her words filled with both reassurance and sorrow. "Everything will be alright, Newt. We've made preparations for you. You're a smart child; you'll understand everything in time. I believe in you."
Sienna fought back tears, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She kissed Newt's forehead and whispered, "Just be safe."
With that, Sienna began packing Newt's belongings, leaving the room quietly.
Witnessing this poignant scene, Newt felt an unexpected disturbance within himself.
"I can ensure my own safety; who asked for their care?" Newt muttered, attempting to dismiss the unsettling emotions. Yet, an unexplained ache lingered, and he couldn't ignore the inexplicable connection that bound him to his family.
"Am I developing emotions for them? No, that can't be," Newt shook his head.
In the hushed corridors of the Salamander mansion, Newt found himself drawn into a web of mysteries, his keen intuition alerting him to a looming crisis.
Fueled by an unsettling feeling, he scrutinized his father's business ledgers, only to find an apparent facade of prosperity.
"Everything is correct, so what's the problem," Newt thought as he navigated the intricacies of the ledgers.
Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Newt's journey led him to Benedict's room, where clandestine conversations between his grandfather and father hinted at a brewing storm. A secret locker, a repository of artifacts, beckoned him with promises of revelation.
To Newt's disbelief, he uncovered a box encasing plutonium—an element of unimaginable danger.
"Is that?" he muttered, disbelief coloring his voice as plutonium met his eyes.
"Which illiterate bastard created a box with plutonium? Just don't know the value of this thing." Curses flowed from Newt's lips as he contemplated the potential threat concealed within the metallic confines.
Hope flickered anew as he opened the plutonium box, only to be met with another layer of complexity—a box crafted from uranium. A spark of optimism flared within him, envisioning the possibility of discovering something profound. However, his expectations crumbled as the contents failed to deliver.
"Is this it?" disappointment echoed in Newt's voice. "This thing needs to be covered with these two elements. What a joke. Every scientist on Earth would laugh at this. Fuck it." The absurdity of the situation elicited a scoff from Newt as he grappled with the paradoxical nature of the puzzle before him.
AAHHHH
'That's Benedict's voice.' The urgency in his movements betrayed the emotionless facade he wore.
'What happened?' Newt hastily took out the mysterious boxes, safeguarding their contents within the confines of the secret locker. With a sense of foreboding, he left the room, striding purposefully toward Benedict's anguished cries.
As he entered the scene, a heart-wrenching tableau unfolded before him. Benedict, on the verge of death, lay crumpled beside his father Jack, who was motionless on the ground, a victim of a brutal assault. The brutality of their injuries painted a grim picture of the malevolent force that had descended upon their lives.
"Take it and leave this place," Benedict stuttered, his voice a fragile whisper of survival. "Do not look back." Yet, despite the dire circumstances, Newt's stoic demeanor cracked, tears streaming down his face.
"I am not going. I am taking you with me. Come," Newt declared, his voice carrying the weight of determination. With an Aura, he lifted Benedict, the revelation of latent abilities shocking even the dying Benedict.
"You are already a Martial Artist," Benedict gasped, astonishment flickering in his fading eyes.
"Don't talk. Get up, and let's go," Newt insisted, the pain evident in his voice.
But Benedict, holding tightly onto life, implored Newt to leave. "It's because you are talented, you should leave. If not, they will not spare you. Run." With those final words, Benedict's life force extinguished, leaving Newt alone in the abyss of loss.
"No, no, you can't die like this. Come back!" Newt's desperate pleas echoed through the emptiness, but both his father and grandfather had succumbed to the cruel whims of fate.
Family, the one constant in Newt's tumultuous existence, was now reduced to memories and the crushing weight of grief.
Driven by an inexplicable force, Newt sprinted back into the mansion, only to witness the vile masked men tormenting his mother. Their laughter reverberated, a sinister symphony to accompany the unfolding tragedy.
"Look, who we have, a child," they mocked, callous and indifferent to the agony they inflicted.
Sienna, witnessing her son in the clutches of unspeakable horrors, could only utter a tearful plea, "Leave, run away."
But Newt stood frozen, grappling with unfamiliar emotions.
'What am I feeling? Anger? Why? Do I really care about them, even at the expense of my life?' Newt questioned himself, lost in the chaos of conflicting emotions.
As the first masked man loomed before him, Newt's mind screamed a solitary command. "Danger." Before he could comprehend the gravity of the situation, he was hurled out of the third-floor window, descending to the ground below alongside the lifeless form of his father.
The masked man callously slashed his mother's throat, and with ruthless efficiency, they ransacked Benedict's room, seizing the mysterious thing before reducing the Salamander mansion to ashes.
"He is still alive," the first masked man observed.
"Kill him. We shouldn't let any roots grow, so they can harm us in the future," the second masked man declared, unsheathing his sword to deliver the final blow.
'Am I going to die?' Newt's grip on the sword tightened, his eyes locking with the tattooed insignia on the blade. The masked figure hesitated, momentarily captivated by the fury within Newt's gaze.
In the macabre dance of life and death, Newt's fate hung in the balance. The masked men, agents of malevolence, callously tossed the bodies of his kin into the engulfing flames, leaving the once-stalwart Salamander mansion a smoldering ruin.
As they departed, a haunting question lingered in Newt's mind 'Is this the end?'