Chapter 97: Flames on the Fountain
Jimmy moved quietly along the slope leading to the river, his senses tuned sharply to the terrain. His eyes, behind the blindfold, remained unreadable—but Luna's subtle signals in the Mind's Garden kept him alert.
Every few steps, he crouched and gathered herbs—each glowing faintly under the morning sun. Roots of Redveil. Blossoms of Sootherbane. Thorned Olanth leaves. Some he recognized from his studies, others by scent and touch.
An hour passed. Not a soul crossed his path.
He had gathered 245 herbs in total.
Ten minutes later, as he crossed a narrow ridge, a tall boy stood in his way.
His badge read: D2.
The boy's eyes narrowed as they fell on Jimmy's overflowing satchel.
He chuckled.
"Well, well… What's this? A poor blind boy stumbling through the wild and getting lucky with the herb lottery? Must be my birthday."
Jimmy didn't respond.
The boy took a few swaggering steps forward.
"You know, I almost feel bad taking it from you. Almost. But mercy ain't in fashion."
With a flare of heat, a fire-type Whisp erupted into the air—
Pyrorine, a phoenix-like creature with burning wing-feathers and a crown of searing light, screeched above.
Jimmy, calmly and silently, spoke to Luna through the Mind's Garden:
"See? Our bait worked. But something's behind him. Watching us. Let's end this fast."
Luna didn't answer. But Jimmy's face tensed ever so slightly.
The boy continued his taunts.
"What's with the coat? You in mourning? Or is that just the fashion for sad clowns these days?"
He smirked and pointed.
"You gonna cry when I roast that walking fish of yours? Maybe you can sniff your way to safety. Oh wait—"
He snapped.
"Pyrorine! Wing Slash!"
The flaming bird dove, wings cutting through the air like molten blades.
Jimmy didn't flinch.
He simply tilted his head and stared—not at the Whisp, but at the boy.
And then—
A flash.
BOOM.
A wave of water burst upward in a spiral. Pyrorine screamed and vanished, its form recalled in defense.
The boy blinked.
"Huh. You feeling fear, little blindboy? That your game?"
He scoffed and turned around slightly.
"Tch. Boring. Keep your weeds. I thought you'd at least cry. See you never."
He walked off with a flick of his hand, vanishing into the trees.
Jimmy stood still for a moment longer.
He hadn't missed it.
There was something behind that boy… in the mist.
Watching.
................
Jimmy didn't follow the retreating boy.
Instead, he turned sharply in the opposite direction, his coat trailing behind him as he darted through brush and between trees. He moved in tight spirals—rotating angles like a ghost, vanishing in and out of sight—until the sound of water reached his ears.
A fountain.
Not a natural one—this was carved. Moss-covered stones stacked into a tiered basin, cracked and steaming faintly.
As he approached the clearing, a loud blast echoed from within.
Jimmy froze and ducked into the ferns.
A chaotic battle was underway—five versus three. Dust, flame, and wind filled the air. It wasn't a duel. It was desperation.
He narrowed his eyes.
In the shadows near the fountain's rim, two humanoid figures lurked—both watching from behind broken statues, clearly not part of either team. Their posture screamed opportunists—waiting to harvest the victor's spoils.
Jimmy tensed.
One of them turned and looked straight at him.
So did the other.
For a moment, time paused. Their glares were sharp with territorial anger.
Of course they're mad.
An uninvited stranger had come to steal their fruit.
Jimmy didn't blink.
Instead, he stepped back—gracefully, without haste—then vanished into the thicket behind him.
"Luna," he whispered in the Mind's Garden, "when I say now, hit them. Hard."
But before he could act—
Another blast shook the woods.
A presence crept up behind him.
Familiar.
He crouched low, by his sense of terrain. He recognized the rhythm—
D2.
The mocking boy from before.
Only this time, he wasn't alone.
Jimmy slipped behind a thick-trunked tree, lowering his breath, as footsteps approached.
The boy was speaking—in low, sarcastic tones.
But beside him walked a tall woman dressed entirely in white, her hair a pale silvery cascade that shimmered in the light. Runic tattoos faintly glowed under her eyes, and drifting near her shoulder was a pale, scaled Whisp—its eyes luminous, its colour almost blending with the air around it. Her expression was cold, unreadable, and quietly terrifying.
Jimmy didn't reveal himself.
.................................
The air around the ruined fountain had turned sharp—electric with fear, dense with tension. 7 figures stood, some panting, some shaking, all suddenly aware they were no longer the predators.
A calm, lilting voice broke the standoff.
"Give me your badges…" the woman said, her tone soft but serrated, like a blade hidden in silk. "Or Binny will show you what happens to thieves."
Binny, badge D2 still gleaming on his chest, gave a theatrical bow.
"Yesss, Miss," he grinned, tossing his fire-Whisp's ember from palm to palm. His sarcasm was thick with mockery. "Hey, kids—come on. Let's not make her use it. Look up."
They did.
And what they saw pulled the breath from their lungs.
Above the fountain, high in the sky, a massive sphere of fire churned—already over five meters wide and growing. The air warped beneath it. The water in the fountain steamed, whistling from the heat.
"Five seconds," Binny said with a smirk. "Four..."
Panic rippled.
The five fighters—scratched, battered, and still arguing over each other's point tags—glanced from one another to their fallen Whisps lying across the stone. It had been a brutal brawl. One team was already losing when the woman and Binny arrived.
And now?
They were prey.
"We—we can't take that thing!" one boy shouted, backing away.
"Screw this! Just run!" cried another.
But before they could bolt, two more shapes emerged from the underbrush—silent, deliberate.
"Tch. Late to the feast," muttered Binny.
From the shadows stepped the two watchers Jimmy had seen earlier—opportunists turned hyenas.
With practiced motions, they summoned their Whisps:
Gravollar: A rock-type beast shaped like a solid cube of crumbling stone. Its stubby arms and legs were stacked with layers of gravel, and its face sat like a deep etching in the center of its body, framed by protruding brows of cracked granite.
Lusafluff: A floating sphere-like creature with long rabbit-like ears and small stubby hands. A ring of soft cloud circled its body like a tutu. Her body shimmered with shifting gradients—blue on top, pink in the centre, and crimson at the base, lined with five glowing rings that pulsed with magic. Zigzag stripes ran down her sides, and her wide violet eyes blinked with childlike curiosity. A Water-Fairy hybrid—deceptively cute and dangerously rare.
The moment the two Whisps appeared, the remaining fighters froze, caught in a triangle of power.
"You vultures," hissed one girl from the losing team.
"You think this is your moment?" said another, raising his fists. "Back off!"
Gravollar slammed his fists together, sending a quake across the cobbled stone. Lusafluff let out a melodic chirp that echoed unnaturally.
But before anything else could happen, the white-haired woman turned—calm as snow—and nodded toward her Whisp.
The pale, scaled creature floated down from her shoulder with eerie grace.
With a slow inhale, it opened its mouth—
—and exhaled an arctic stream of frost.
The breath wasn't loud. It didn't roar or scream. It whispered—like death in snowfall.
The frost curled along the ground, and in moments, ice climbed up the legs of all five battered participants. Boots froze solid. Skin turned pale. Their lungs steamed with every panicked breath.
"No! No—move—"
"Break it! Break the ice!"
"Don't let them—"
One boy grabbed a rock and smashed it against his ankle, trying to break the ice imprisoning him—but the moment his hand moved, it too froze over. Fingers stuck in mid-motion, locked in a rime-coated grip.
The pale Whisp hissed softly, and the frost grew thicker.
From the side, Binny grinned like a devil behind glass.
The woman tilted her head and stepped forward, voice now sickly sweet:
"Ara ara… So sweet, these boys with thief-like intentions has come."
"Did no one tell you?" she purred. "In this world… only the powerful are entitled to spoil."
The boy shouted back, "Let see then."
"No," she whispered.
She turned. "Binny."
With a practiced gesture, Binny swiped the air.
"Showtime."
The massive fireball above, now roiling with heat, dropped like judgment.
BOOOOOOOM.
..............................
Tension hung in the air like a blade.
Five tags.Two factions.
5 injured One moment.
Will they share?Will they strike?Will they run?Or will ambition consume them both?
The choice is seconds away.
Let's meet in next chapter.
##Hey everyone —I'm really sorry for the delay in updates over the past few days. Some unexpected work at home kept me away from writing, but I appreciate your patience.Thank you for sticking with the story — the next chapters are going to be intense, and I can't wait to share more with you soon!– Pixel Alchemist