Chapter 46: Clock Magic, Cursed Yoga, and the Rise of Horny Monks
Ezgar stood at the shattered doorway, hunched over and seething, one clawed hand on his spine like a three-hundred-year-old chiropractor just told him "it’s arthritis again."
But then—
The silhouette behind him grew.
Ezgar’s eyes widened.
Finn’s mind completely flatlined.
Because flying above, wings flapping with divine majesty, was...
a pig.
Not a monster pig. Not a demon pig.
A normal-ass farm pig—except with pure white, feathery angel wings.
It glowed softly, radiating holiness like a bacon-scented angel.
"Oh my spells... it’s a Porkthriel!" one of the wizards cried, dropping to his knees.
’WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!’ Finn screamed internally, eyes darting between everyone like they were all in on a joke he’d never get.