CHAPTER 55: 55: LESSONS IN GRAVITY IX

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John chuckled despite himself, feeling the ache in his arms and the faint warmth of victory in his chest. For all the chaos, Fizz was right. He was learning, slowly but surely.

"Alright," John said, breathing deeply. "Again?"

Fizz wiped an imaginary tear and smirked. "Again. But this time, try not to assault my gorgeous fur, you heartless master."

The training continued, each black hole sharper than the last, and each insult from Fizz somehow funnier and crueler. By the time the sun began to dip behind the trees, John’s aim had improved enough that the little elemental started to actually dodge with effort, rather than lazily drifting away.

And deep down, even with the bite mark throbbing on his shoulder, John felt like he had taken another step toward real mastery.

Fizz clutched his side and spun in circles, his voice rising in a dramatic wail that echoed through the trees. He makes new songs out of emotions.

"Ohhh, my beautiful fluff is gone,

Sing a song for the fallen dawn!

Once I was soft, majestic, and red,

Now I am wounded, almost dead!

Who will love me, who will adore,

A patchy puffball, fluffy no more?

John the monster, doom of hair,

Bit my pride with his evil stare!"

He paused mid-spin to sniffle loudly and then continued in a different tune, faster and more ridiculous.

"Bite of justice, chomp of fame,

Master Forgetful is to blame!

I’ll bite his shoulder, I’ll chew his sleeve,

I’ll cry in song till he believes!"

Fizz then flopped onto John’s head like a fainting hero, humming the last line like a tragic lullaby:

"Fluffy no more... oh the horror... feed me pancakes to restore my honor..."

The forest clearing had seen better days. Several logs were now half eaten by black holes, the grass bore circles of missing earth like invisible mouths had taken bites out of the world, and one very annoyed squirrel sat on a branch throwing acorns in protest. A black hole had destroyed the tree where its home was.

John wiped sweat from his brow and steadied his breathing. His arms ached from hours of practice, his mana veins buzzing with exhaustion. He had gotten better at using the black hole magic in his palm. He had even learned to predict the movement.

A few moments later...

The forest had gone quiet. A chill breeze whispered through the pines, stirring the ashes of the small fire John had built. The stars blinked through gaps in the canopy, their light fractured by the shifting branches. A few insects chirped, but even they seemed cautious, as if the clearing itself held its breath.

John sat against a mossy rock, his bedroll stretched out nearby. Fizz was curled up on his lap like a warm, grumbling scarf, fast asleep. The little puffball twitched every so often, mumbling through tiny sharp teeth.

"...my fur... gone... so cruel... pancakes... ten stacks... maybe with honey..."

John exhaled slowly, fighting the mix of amusement and guilt that curled in his chest. He brushed a finger lightly over Fizz’s back, careful not to wake him.

"I didn’t mean to hit you," he murmured under his breath. "You’re just too fast for your own good."

Fizz’s wing twitched in his sleep. "Betrayal... doom ball... bite of justice..."

John smiled faintly and leaned his head back against the rock, letting his eyes drift to the stars. They shimmered above the black treetops like they were trying to remind him how big the world really was.

It had been ten days since he and Fizz left the village. Ten days since he had handed Gael the responsibility of their fledgling company —Fizz Holdings— and trusted the miners to continue forging weapons. Ten days of eating dried meat, sleeping under trees, and training until his muscles ached.

"I wonder how they’re doing," he thought. "Did Gael register the company like I asked? Did the others manage to create a real elemental weapon yet? Or are they still arguing about whose dagger sparkled the most?"

A soft, low chime echoed in his head.

[Ding! Black Hole Palm Mastery Achieved. Host has successfully integrated practical training. Efficiency increased by 45%. Mana consumption decreased by 20%.]

John’s eyes widened slightly, and his fingers curled into the grass. The system’s words hummed through him like a warm river. He had done it. After days of sweating, wobbling, and enduring Fizz’s relentless mockery, he had finally reached full mastery of his first black hole skill.

"Finally," he whispered, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

The void inside him felt steadier now, as if it had been waiting for this moment. A subtle thrum of energy pulsed from his chest to his fingertips, whispering that he was no longer fumbling with borrowed power. It was his.

He glanced down at Fizz, still snoring softly, his little body rising and falling against John’s chest.

"You’re ridiculous," John muttered. "But... you’re my ridiculous fluffball."

Fizz kicked his tiny paw in the air, still dreaming. "I... will... bite him again... bite... for my honor..."

John stifled a laugh, guilt mixing with amusement. He traced a finger lightly along the edge of his cloak, imagining the celebration he would give Fizz once they were home.

"Alright," he whispered to the sleeping elemental. "When we get back to the village, I’ll give you a proper apology. A pancake feast. Ten stacks. Maybe twenty. With honey. And if I can manage it... I’ll make you a gift."

He imagined a small auto gun, perfectly fitted for Fizz’s tiny paws. Something he could wield without needing to use wind magic or biting John’s shoulder in revenge. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the mental image of Fizz riding the recoil like an unhinged bird.

"But that’ll have to wait," John murmured. "We finish this journey first."

The night air cooled as the fire dwindled to embers. Shadows thickened around the clearing, and the trees swayed gently as if whispering secrets to the wind. John leaned back and let exhaustion creep into his bones.