CHAPTER 39: 39: THE PATH OF THE MAGE XII

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John blinked. "What?"

"The gun. Hand it over. I am the better aim master. Also, punishment for almost getting us killed and making me emotional."

John hesitated. "But you only use fire magic. This thing is heavy. This is metal and gunpowder. With your small body how will you control it?"

Fizz smirked with four sharp teeth he had. "Silly master. I am an elemental being. I can control all elements if I want. I only use fire because it is convenient for a weakling like you. But thanks to your current pathetic state, I cannot show my full power anyway."

John stared at him, then finally sighed and handed over the revolver. "Fine. But I am sorry, Fizz."

His eyes twitched for being mocked by Fizz. Then he says with a frustrated face, "Listen, I will get stronger soon. I want to see what you can really do one day. Don’t disappoint me then."

Fizz’s eyes gleamed with mischief and pride. "Apology accepted. Now watch and learn how a pro does things."

He zipped forward, gripping the revolver in his tiny paws. Mana flickered around him like a swirling breeze. The gun’s barrel glowed faintly, reacting to his presence. Most of its weight was supported by wind magic.

The Nightscale Howler shook its massive head, blood dripping from its wounded shoulder, and let out a howl that rattled the leaves. It lunged again, faster this time, jaws wide enough to crush a man in one bite.

Fizz spun midair, aimed the revolver with one paw, and grinned like a demon in a fur coat. "Time to play ugly wolf lizard."

Bang!

The first shot tore through the mist and hit the beast in its hind leg. It yelped and staggered, mud and blood spraying.

Bang!

The second hit its other leg, forcing it to drop lower.

Fizz twirled in the air, laughing manically. "Dance for me, oversized lizard puppy!"

Bang!

The third shot struck the beast in the ribs. It howled and flailed, snapping at empty air.

John watched in disbelief as Fizz performed midair flips and spins, aiming and firing like a circus acrobat and a veteran gunslinger combined.

"Fizz!" he yelled. "Stop playing with the gun and finish it!"

"Fine, fine!" Fizz chirped, twirling once more. "Weak things should know their place!"

He darted straight above the beast’s head, aimed downward, and let the last two shots fly in rapid succession.

Bang! Bang!

Each bullet found a weak point: one through the eye then through the softer skin behind the jaw, and the last straight into the beast’s open mouth. Mana erupted in a burst of light and smoke.

The Nightscale Howler convulsed, let out a final, pitiful groan, and collapsed with a crash that shook the semi wet ground. Mud and leaves splashed in every direction.

Fizz hovered above the smoking corpse, revolver spinning in his paws, and struck a heroic pose on the beast’s snout. He pointed the gun barrel on the beast’s head.

"Bow before the great Fizz! Gun god, elemental lord, destroyer of ugly lizard puppies!" he declared, voice echoing through the mist.

John leaned against a rock, chest heaving. "I cannot believe you just said that."

Fizz floated back to him, still twirling the revolver. "And I cannot believe you forgot this beauty existed. You are lucky I am adorable, or I would abandon you out of sheer embarrassment."

John rubbed his face. "I said I am sorry. I will never forget again."

"Good," Fizz said with a sniff, then tapped the barrel with pride. "From now on, this is mine. You may look at it, but it is my toy."

John sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite the mud, the blood, and the chaos of the night.

Fizz spun once in the air, tiny wings glimmering in the faint light. "Now stop talking. Let us celebrate. Victory belongs to Lord Fizz."

John laughed once, softly. Relief washed over him as the adrenaline faded, leaving only exhaustion and the dying crackle of the fire behind them.

The E-rank beast lay still in the mud, mist curling around its lifeless body. For tonight, they had survived the impossible with a modern weapon.

The forest was silent again.

Blood steam rose from the corpse of the Nightscale Howler, its black red blood hissing where it met the cooling coals of the campfire. The scent of gunpowder, scorched fur, and wet leaves mixed in the air, heavy and metallic. A few drops of rainwater dripped from the trees, splattering against stone and mud, washing thin streams of blood into the roots.

John was still leaning against the slope, catching his breath. His cloak was soaked, his boots caked in mud, and his dagger still trembled faintly in his grip. Every muscle in his body buzzed from the surge of adrenaline.

Fizz hovered above the fallen beast again like a tiny victorious warlord. He twirled the smoking revolver in his paws with dramatic flair, then pointed it toward the sky as if announcing a holy triumph.

"Another glorious hunt concluded by the heroic Fizz," he declared to the quiet forest. "Evil puppy vanquished. World saved. Master redeemed for being a forgetful fool... mostly."

John groaned, wiping grime from his face with the back of his hand. "You are never going to let this go, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Fizz replied, floating down again to poke him lightly on the forehead. "You forgot you had a gun. A gun. Who forgets a magic gun when their life is on the line?"

John rolled his eyes. "As I told you before... It was supposed to be a last resort. I only ever used it once. I was overwhelmed. Things happen. I am human. I can forget."

Fizz clutched his chest with one paw as if his tiny heart had shattered. "My master, wielder of ancient cosmic power, slayer of beasts, and collector of embarrassing life decisions. Truly, bards will weep with laughter when they hear this tale."