CHAPTER 37: 37: THE PATH OF THE MAGE X

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Two faint glimmers, like eyes reflecting starlight, blinked once. Their pale light cut through the dark like shards of cold glass. Then they vanished, sinking back into the night as if they had never been there.

The forest held its breath.

A faint crunch of leaves whispered somewhere deeper in the shadows, followed by a soft scrape of claw against bark. The watcher had been there for a long time, hidden and unmoving. It had seen the campfire lit. It had seen the boy with the strange pet settle to rest. And now it lingered in the silence, watching. Waiting.

The fire crackled and hissed as a wet log shifted, throwing sparks into the air. John shifted in his bedroll, exhaling through his nose, but never opened his eyes. He felt the warmth, heard the whispers of the forest, and allowed his guard to drop just slightly.

The mist that clung to the ground began to curl toward the firelight, brushing against the stones like ghostly fingers. The wind stirred the upper branches, and the owl called again, long and low, as if warning something unseen.

Hooott!

The eyes returned for a moment, closer now, the faintest gleam between two ferns. A slow, deliberate movement. It was a hunter’s patience.

John, unaware of the silent gaze fixed on him, let his heavy eyelids fall completely. The crackling fire and the rhythm of Fizz’s snores lulled him into uneasy sleep.

In the darkness beyond the firelight, the forest watched back.

The fire had burned low, reduced to glowing coals that pulsed faintly in the darkness. A pale mist rolled through the trees, thickening as the night deepened. John stirred in his sleep, a faint frown creasing his brow, as a subtle prickle ran along his senses.

He opened his eyes. The forest trees near them felt different.

The crickets had gone silent. Even the distant owl had ceased its call. Only the soft whisper of mist curling around the stones and the faint crackle of dying embers broke the stillness.

John sat up slowly, careful not to jostle Fizz, who was still curled on his chest like a warm ball of fur. The little spirit twitched, let out a confused squeak, then blinked groggily.

"Why are you awake? I was dreaming of a river made of pure energy," he mumbled. "I was eating the whole thing."

John held a finger to his lips. "Listen, smarty emotional support fluff."

Fizz’s ears flicked. His eyes widened. "Oh... that is not normal wind."

A branch snapped in the distance, sharp against the silence.

John reached for his dagger and rose to his feet, letting the fire’s dim glow paint his silhouette against the mist. His gaze swept the treeline, but all he saw were shadows and the faint curl of fog.

Then the smell hit him. It was a faint, musky odor, like wet fur and rotting leaves.

Fizz floated off from his lap, his small body tense. "Something big. Something hungry. I felt it sniffing your soul before, but I thought it was a raccoon with ambition. My bad."

John gripped his dagger tighter. His heart pounded, but his breath stayed even. "Which Direction?"

Fizz turned slowly, his ears twitching under the fur. He pointed toward the slope near the pine trees. "There."

Suddenly, the mist parted. It emerged with the slow confidence of a hunter that knew the night belonged to it.

[An E-rank beast.]

Its form was a twisted fusion of wolf and reptile, taller than a horse at the shoulder. Patches of black fur were broken by plates of jagged scales that glistened in the moonlight. Its tail was long and ridged, dragging across the wet leaves with a rasping sound. Two amber eyes burned in the darkness, locking onto John like a snack.

The beast exhaled, and a puff of steam curled from its jaws. Then it opened its mouth and growled, the sound was low and rolling, it was vibrating in John’s bones.

Fizz whispered, "That is an E-rank Nightscale Howler. Congratulations, you are now the midnight snack."

John kept his voice low. "Can we take it down?"

Fizz winced. "Well, funny thing. I am technically strong. Like a god... ridiculously strong. But my power is bound to you, because spiritual beast contracts work like a mirror. The more powerful you are, the more I can unleash. Right now, you are a pre-mage with a shiny dagger. Which means I am... slightly better than a F-rank with attitude. But not as strong as an E-rank."

The beast prowled closer, each step soft but heavy, pressing leaves and mud with its weight. Its scales rippled as if alive, and its claws left faint glowing marks in the dirt.

John swallowed. "So if I were stronger..."

Fizz nodded. "If you reach the circle one mage, my strength skyrockets with you. I will be stronger than you by one rank. But right now... there is... one other option left."

The Howler’s ears twitched. It began to circle, head low, eyes fixed on them with a Hunter’s patience.

John didn’t look away. "Tell me what option?"

Fizz hesitated, his usual humor dimmed. "If I burn a portion of my life force, I can unleash a fraction of my true power. Maybe one percent from the millionth of what I really am. Even that would vaporize this thing and the entire forest. But my life force will be down by ten percent."

John’s head snapped toward him. "One millionth?"

Fizz bared his tiny teeth. "I am not exaggerating. I was born to rule the universe and be worshipped by trillions. But it would shorten my life. I would fade faster. Maybe... a lot faster than ten percent. I don’t know. My mama told me only to use that move when I am about to die by a god level being."

Fizz paused, then continued. "John, I am starting to like you. Although this thing is weak... But I am willing to use that move for you. I don’t want you to die. You are my only friend and master. You even listen to my songs."