CHAPTER 41: 41: THE PATH OF THE MAGE XIV

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By the time he returned, the mist had thickened and the night air bit with cold. He stoked the embers with a few dry sticks until the fire was steady again.

Fizz yawned. "Wake me if another ugly thing tries to eat you. I am too beautiful for back to back heroism. I need my beauty sleep."

John spread his damp cloak near the fire to dry (it became wet when he rolled on the ground) and finally lay back on the bedroll, staring up through the branches. The stars blinked faintly through the shifting mist, and his eyes grew heavy.

Exhaustion tugged at his body, but his mind stayed alert. He thought about the battle, about the revolver, about Fizz’s words and his own mistakes. He needed to be sharper, stronger, smarter. If he was going to survive and unlock the black hole core within him, there could be no more hesitation, no more forgetting.

In the far distance, a single wolf-like howl echoed through the valley. Not the Nightscale Howler, they had killed that one. It was something else. Something answering the scent of blood and the echo of gunfire.

John’s eyes slid closed, his hand still resting on the warm grip of the revolver. The night was not safe. It never would be. But for now, he needed some rest.

A few hours later...

The first light of dawn had not yet touched the forest when John’s eyes opened.

The fire was nothing but a bed of gray ash and faint orange coals. Mist still clung to the ground, curling around the rocks and trees like restless spirits. Fizz was snoring softly on his chest, tiny wings twitching, his mouth open wide enough to show off the upper two small sharp teeth.

John exhaled slowly, letting the cool air fill his lungs. He had barely slept, but restlessness had driven him awake before the sun. There was still one mana particle left to absorb, and until he claimed it, his path to becoming a Circle One mage remained unfinished.

He closed his eyes briefly and whispered in his mind. "System. Show me the location of the last mana particle."

The cold, familiar pulse answered immediately.

[Ding. Third Mana Particle Detected.

Estimated Travel Distance: 192 kilometers southeast. Estimated travel time: 6 to 8 days by foot based on current terrain and host speed.

Warning: Route passes through uncharted territory with beast activity.]

John sat up carefully, moving Fizz onto the bedroll so he would not fall. His mind worked through the calculation. Nearly a week. And that was if nothing went wrong.

Fizz yawned loudly and rolled onto his back, he was still half asleep. "Why are you awake so early? Are we going to fight more oversized lizard puppies? I was dreaming of a pancake fortress with energy bacon guards."

John strapped his boots and stood. "We are moving. The last mana particle is far. A week of travel at least."

Fizz cracked one eye open. "A week? Walking? Through the scary murder forest? With your human legs that get tired every two hours?"

"Yes."

Fizz groaned and flipped onto his stomach dramatically. "I want a new master. One with a horse. Or wings. Or a better sense of comfort."

"You can fly. I cannot. You should try carrying me."

Fizz floated up, still grumbling. "I am going to roast you all week. You deserve it for mocking me. You know I am cute, adorable and small. How will I carry you?"

John packed their gear, stowed the revolver in his pack, and kicked dirt over the ashes of the fire. The forest was damp and quiet, the only sound was the faint drip of water from the canopy.

The first two days of travel were uneventful but exhausting. They moved through dense forest, crossed shallow streams, and climbed over jagged stone ridges slick with moss. Fizz alternated between scouting ahead and insulting John for being slow.

"Are you walking or crawling?" Fizz called from a branch one afternoon. "I swear, I could nap between each of your steps."

"Then nap," John muttered.

"I would, but you might trip over a rock and die without me here to laugh at you."

On the third day, rain returned. It poured through the leaves in cold, uneven sheets. John trudged through the mud, soaked to the bone, his cloak heavy with water. Fizz seemed unaffected, darting through the rain like a gleeful ember.

"Whee! Nature bath again!" he shouted, spinning in the downpour. "Rain makes me ugly."

John raised a brow. "You will look like a wet tomato. I can imagine it."

Fizz gasped. "Rude. I am a fiery jewel of elemental glory, not a salad ingredient. I will cover myself with some big leaves."

By the fourth day, they reached the edge of the forest and entered rolling hills dotted with rocky outcroppings. The sun finally broke through the clouds, warming John’s chilled bones.

Fizz basked in the light like a fur ball, floating lazily above his shoulder. "Ah yes, finally, my adoring sun returns. The world looks better already. Also, I counted, you tripped seventeen times yesterday. I will never forget it."

"Thank you for keeping track," John said dryly.

"Someone has to record your legacy of clumsiness."

They camped on the crest of a hill that night, the horizon stretching wide and clear. From here, John could see the distant shadow of mountains to the southeast, the direction of their goal. The thought of the last mana particle stirred a weight in his chest. He was so close now.

The fifth and sixth days brought more challenges. They crossed a marsh that stank of rot and buzzing insects, and Fizz refused to go near the water.

"Disgusting," he declared, perched on John’s hood. "If I fall in, I will beat the shit out of the swamp."

"Who will you beat? It’s just moss water."

"Everyone. Everything here. Including you, maybe."

John slogged through knee-deep muck, each step a struggle. By the time they reached solid ground, his boots were caked in foul smelling mud, and Fizz refused to hover near him until he washed them in a stream.