Epilogue
“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Magmin said as Newt completed his body.
“You’re welcome. I wonder about using your daughter’s dead body as the basis for yours, but that’s your choice. Are you sure you want to sever our connection?”
Magmin nodded without a trace of hesitation.
“While you have absorbed most divinity from the outer gods, some of it scattered around the world. Combined with what Shimmer had absorbed and failed to digest from the first one that had died centuries ago, I think I have a chance of reaching your level one day.”
“Good luck with that,” Newt said with a hint of teasing. “I’ve scattered the essence I didn’t need all around the world.”
Magmin shrugged, a feat much more impressive back when he was a snake. “I have the advantage in knowing what to look for and how to digest it. Only your daughter can do that, right?”
It was Newt’s turn to shrug. “Who knows… Maelstrom is fit, and now that I’m an old man, having a young woman beside me feels good.”
Magmin stared at him. “She’s older than you, and you can look any way you want. You can even conjure spare bodies from mana.”
Newt wisely changed the subject. “You want me to watch over Magminion while you’re away?”
“Why would I want you to do that?” Magmin snorted. “Pampering your descendants makes them weak and spoiled. You should’ve seen enough of it to understand that by now.”
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The dragon paused, “Are you really going to go through with it?”
“What? Fake my and Maelstrom’s death and leave Pumpkinpie alone to fend for herself? I’m tempted.” Newt looked into the distance. “Humanity will split into many smaller settlements far apart from each other and with saurian jungles infested between them. Pretending to be a couple of settlers with a daughter and perishing in some way might be good for Pumpkinpie’s future.”
“We’re definitely not doing that!” Maelstrom walked over, having picked up on their conversation from a mile away. “And stop calling our daughter Pumpkinpie, I compromised enough to name her Magma, and you’re still calling her Pumpkinpie.”
“That’s because she’s my little Pumpkinpie,” Newt pinched the one-year-old’s chubby cheek. “I told you you would one day regret calling me Pumpkin all the while. I’m a god, you can’t make me call her anything other than what I want.”
“I’m gonna bite it off, god. And you hated your parents for abandoning you. You specifically mentioned something about them returning to your life and popping children like they couldn’t have enough. How do you think Magma will feel?”
“She has a point,” Magmin pointed out.
“She does,” Newt agreed. “I’m just afraid she will grow up spoiled, or a fragile little princess waiting for some dashing, powerful youth of lowly birth to sweep her off her feet and turn her into a housewife—Ow!”
Maelstrom smashed an iceberg into his head, making sure none of the shards splashed on her daughter or on Magmin. Newt looked at her, wet and miserable, as if he had just survived a boat sinking, then in a puff of steam all the water was gone, and he looked at her with a boyish grin.
Maelstrom rolled her eyes at him. “Should’ve married that imperial prince. I could’ve been an empress in a new world by now.”
Newt was about to retort, but Magmin had had enough of their nonsense.
“I’m going now before you poison my brain. I wish you both a good long life, and that we meet each other again in a couple thousand years under even better conditions.”
With that, he took off, because a dragon had to have the final word.
Magmin: “THE END”