Chapter 5: Snow's Abilities

"What other magic can you perform, Snow?" Connor asked. Snow scratched its head with its tiny paw, mimicking the gesture Connor often made, its eyes darting around. After a while, Snow seemed to recall something. With Connor watching expectantly, Snow pointed its tiny paw at a stone. Whoosh! An ice arrow shot out, shattering the stone. "Ice magic, an evolution of water magic!" Connor exclaimed. With a flick of its paw, a bolt of lightning appeared. "Thunder magic!" Snow slapped the ground, and earth spikes emerged from below. "Earth magic!" A finger pointed skyward, and a ball of light flew out. "Light magic!" With a frantic wave, black flames erupted. "Dark magic!" Connor stiffly called out each type of magic, his eyes wide with astonishment. Snow could wield all seven major schools of magic. It's known that magical beasts also have elemental affinities. Most beasts master only one type of magic, two are rare, three are extraordinary, four cause an uproar, five have only been recorded in ancient texts, and six have never been documented. Yet Snow mastered seven. "Is there anything else?" Connor asked. Snow shook its head. "Then show me the most powerful magic you can release," Connor said. It should have some attack power since it was a mutant magical beast. Snow raised its head confidently, waving its tiny paw at a large tree. Bolts of lightning shot from its tiny paw. Connor watched, anticipation building. It wouldn't be a low-level beast if Snow could easily split the tree with lightning. Boom! The lightning struck a branch. A branch only as thick as a thumb. The branch fell cleanly, while the thicker branches remained unscathed. Connor, full of expectation, almost choked on his saliva. He gave Snow a thumbs-up and said, "Impressive, truly impressive!" Snow flashed a mischievous grin. Connor found it amusing. Snow was indeed a mutant beast, but it only mutated to possess seven types of magic. As for their power, it was underwhelming. No wonder this little creature always came around for food and drink. "Alright, let's eat." Connor focused on roasting a fire rabbit. Snow mimicked Connor's actions, sitting beside him, drooling. As the fire rabbit sizzled and dripped with delicious juices, the enticing aroma made both man and beast swallow their saliva, and they devoured the rabbit entirely. Connor patted his belly. "Alright, you're full. I should head back." Snow tugged on Connor's pant leg, looking at him pitifully. The look melted Connor's heart. He smiled, shook his head, and lifted Snow onto his shoulder. "Let's go. From now on, you'll stay with me, and I promise you'll eat and drink well every day." Snow stood on Connor's shoulder, with a dissatisfied look. Connor playfully flicked Snow's furry little head. Snow was only about ten centimeters tall, pure white, curled up like a fluffy ball, and inherited the white spirit beast's adorable charm, which captivated anyone. After over ten days of intense training, Connor had finally developed some battle energy. He couldn't wait to share the good news with Quentin. Returning from the back mountain to the Shayle residence, he encountered Michael and Zeke. "Well, if it isn't the prodigy. I haven't seen you in over ten days. I missed you," Michael greeted with a smile. "Isn't that a white spirit beast? Only a genius like you would have a trashy magical beast as a pet." Connor glanced at him, thinking he'd deal with them once his training yielded results. For now, having just gained battle energy, he wasn't strong enough to confront them. He avoided them and moved on. "Why the rush? We're a family. Show us some respect," Michael called out. Zeke taunted, "Why bother with him, Michael? He's just a waste. We have a gambling session to attend." "True. Today, I'm going to gamble big. Even if I lose, I can always borrow money from Connor," Michael sneered. "Exactly, Connor is our bank," Zeke cackled. Connor seethed with anger. He noticed Snow glaring at them and had an idea. He whispered, "Set a couple of fires on their butts. Don't let them notice." Snow responded immediately, waving its paw to produce four small fireballs. Despite Snow's weak magic power, it had the advantage of being quick, casting instantly. The four fireballs hit Michael and Zeke's butts. The sneak attack caught the two off guard, especially since they were weak. Unprepared, their pants caught fire. "Ah! Fire! Fire!" Michael screamed. The two yelped as they scrambled to put out the fire. Snow's magic was weak, so it was quickly extinguished, but their pants had several holes burned in them, exposing their behinds. "Who the hell did this?" Michael roared. "Which bastard did this?" Zeke yelled, clutching his butt. Their fierce gazes swept over Connor without pause. Since magic was exclusive to magical beasts and white spirit beasts weren't known for magic, they never suspected Snow. They got what they deserved. Connor smirked and brought Snow back to the Shayle residence. Entering his room, he dismissed all the servants attending to Quentin. Kneeling beside Quentin's bed, he gripped Quentin's hand, his voice trembling with emotion. "Father, I've finally gained battle energy. Can you hear me? I have battle energy now!" Quentin lay there, unmoving. "Father, I will train even harder. I will win the Continental Youth Tournament and use the Sacred Soul Water to wake you," Connor declared firmly. Snow watched, a hint of helplessness crossing its face. It seemed to understand the situation, but the expression quickly faded before Connor could notice. After talking to his comatose father, Connor stood up, walked to the left wall of the bedroom, and removed three bricks to retrieve a scroll from inside. It was a battle technique, the Tyrant Fist, that Quentin had obtained for Connor ten years ago. Quentin nearly died acquiring this technique, intending it for Connor. However, Connor could not cultivate battle energy, leaving the scroll sealed in the wall for a decade. Now, with battle energy, he could finally practice the Tyrant Fist. Battle techniques had elemental attributes. For instance, techniques with a fire attribute could unleash tremendous power when practiced by someone with a fire attribute. Conversely, someone with a water attribute couldn't succeed with them. The Tyrant Fist was an earth attribute. Quentin had lightning attribute, so he never practiced it. Connor, identified at birth with earth, lightning, and wood attributes, was the intended practitioner of this technique. Connor replaced the bricks and began studying the scroll intently. He was enthralled by the Tyrant Fist, especially its rumored power. At the highest level, it was said to unleash a punch with the might of a true dragon, an extraordinary force. "What has you so engrossed?" Connor was startled by a sultry voice and a waft of intoxicating fragrance. Looking up, he found himself momentarily entranced. The visitor was a mature, alluring woman with an enchanting face. She wore no makeup yet exuded a seductive charm. Her eyes and brows naturally curved, giving the impression of a flirtatious gaze, even when she wasn't trying. "Ms. Spencer," Connor greeted, having seen her countless times before. Yet each time, her beauty left him momentarily speechless. He suspected her coquettish glance could defeat armies. She was none other than the renowned master alchemist, Whitney Spencer.