Chapter 46: The Path of the Mage XIX
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He was on one knee, hand pressed to the cold stone ground, his chest heaving. The faint flicker of a black hole appeared in his palm for a heartbeat before vanishing, leaving behind only a tingling warmth and the undeniable sense of power.
He had done it.
Every sound came rushing back — the whisper of the wind through the stones, the distant drip of water, the soft crunch of Fizz’s wings flitting nearby.
Fizz froze in midair with wide eyes and trembling in a mix of awe and glee.
"Ohhhh. That is... actually terrifying. I love it."
John panted, feeling the last threads of the vision fade. "I... can feel it. The mana flows. The world feels alive. Like I can hear its pulse."
Fizz spun in celebratory circles, then zipped over to the serpent’s leftover corpse and kicked it square on the butt.
"Ha! Look at you now, you overgrown belt! You thought you were scary? You are handbag material! Snake noodle soup! A discount belt for a peasant who trips on their own shoes!"
He zipped back, patting John’s cheek with his tiny paw. "Congratulations, Master Forgetful. You are officially less pathetic now. Circle One John, Slayer of Snakes, Holder of Murder Marbles, and my favorite walking disaster."
John laughed, weak but genuine, and let himself sit on the cold stone. "Thanks... I think."
Fizz landed proudly on his shoulder like a king mounting his throne. "You are welcome. I hereby declare this Fizz Victory Day. Also, I want pancakes. And beef jerky. And maybe a pillow made of this snake’s face."