Me And My Pet Mico

Mico watched as the two pressed on. 

Idiotic humans. He sneered internally. They knew they were outmatched, but greed has blinded them, causing this futile attempt of an attack.

Just as the first blade was about to strike, Mico twisted mid-air, his paws landing squarely on the attacker's chest. Using the man's own momentum against him, Mico kicked off, sending him hurtling backward.

The second attacker adjusted his stance, anticipating a counter. But before he could react—Zarn moved.

Ducking low, Zarn swept a leg under him, knocking him off balance. In the same fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist, twisting just enough to force him to drop his weapon. A sharp jab to the throat ensured he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Zarn exhaled, watching his fallen opponent. He wasn't afraid of a fight—he never had been. That wasn't the issue. It was the aftermath that worried him. If he pushed too hard, if he overexerted himself, his weakness might return, probably worse than before.

This has never happened, but when you perpetually spend your whole life in weakness, you can not help but be cautious in your actions when you get a moment of reprieve. He could never afford to get carried away.

"It's been too long since I had a proper fight," Zarn muttered, flexing his fingers. "Oh, how nice it is to have a good day."

He abruptly tilted his head to the side, a fist whizzed past where his face had been. Without hesitation, he grabbed the attacker's wrist, smoothly using it as leverage to flip over the strike. In the same breath—before the thug even realized what had happened—Zarn chopped at his neck, knocking him out cold.

Meanwhile, Mico was a whirlwind of fire and claws. Another thug attempted a sneak attack from behind, but Mico spun, catching the man with a blazing paw. The assailant screamed as he was launched backward, rolling across the pavement before going limp.

The last remaining muggers hesitated, their borrowed strength crumbling against overwhelming reality. Fear flickered in their eyes. Their Senar vials had made them stronger, but only for so long—and only against those weaker than them.

Zarn sighed. "Not so fast."

In one smooth motion, he picked up a fallen blade and flicked it forward. The handle struck one of the fleeing men at the back of his head, dropping him instantly. Mico took care of the rest, pouncing forward with precise, calculated strikes—just enough to knock them out of the fight without permanently maiming them.

The street fell into silence, save for the distant crackling of embers.

Zarn rolled his shoulders before turning to face the scarred man and his beast. "Well, looks like it's just us now."

The scarred man's face twisted with fury. His men were down, their bodies littering the ground in defeat. He could already see the consequences looming. His grip over this part of the slums would be questioned. Alone, he couldn't fend off the rival gangs that had been eyeing his turf. Worse, his men had used Senar vials, and the backlash was inevitable. Normally, they could manage it. But now? Injured, unconscious, weakened?

His rage seethed beneath the surface. I'll make you suffer before handing you over to your parents, brat.

He reached deep into his mind, pulling on the only power he had left.

Senar. The very foundation of power in this world. Every metaphysical act performed by humans was powered by it. Not all humans were born with the ability to wield it, but those who could stood far above the rest.

Like everything in life, Senar's gift was unfair. Some were born with mere scraps of talent, while others wielded absurd levels of aptitude. Naturally, a hierarchy had formed—the blessed ruling over the powerless.

For a long time, this was the norm. Until the advent of the Ancient Spells shattered that balance.

Ancient Spells—mystical incantations activated through Senar—didn't simply favor the powerful. Their effectiveness varied from person to person, their potential beyond anyone's control.

Among them, one particular spell surged through the scarred man's mind.

Ancient Spell: Berserk Calling Cat.

As he uttered the spell's name, glowing runes formed in the air around him, interlocking in rapid succession. The energy pulsed, then shot forward—branding itself onto his Raque's neck.

ROARRR!

The beast's body exploded with growth. Muscles swelled, its size doubling in an instant. Once the size of a full-grown donkey, the Raque now stood as large as a warhorse, rippling with newfound power.

Zarn's eyes gleamed with interest. He could have interrupted the transformation—but he didn't. This was a rare chance to witness the raw power of an Ancient Spell firsthand. From a surface level, the Raque's strength had undeniably surged. Its sheer muscle mass alone made that clear.

"Alright," Zarn muttered, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Show me what you got."

The scarred man sneered. "Cocky little brat! Zrymo, get me that cat's head! Speed Blitz!"

Zarn tilted his head, then mimicked, "Mico, get me some barbecue. Uh… Fireball?"

Fireball? Mico's voice deadpanned through their link.

Zarn just shrugged.

With a burst of motion, Zrymo vanished—its form a mere blur as it closed in on Mico almost instantly. Speed Blitz was a deadly ability unique to feline-type beasts, maximizing movement for an overwhelming strike. Most enemies never even saw the attack coming.

Zrymo's claws shot forward—only to meet a point-blank blue fireball to the face.

FWOOSH!

Instinctively, the Raque swiped at the fireball, trying to power through. But the moment its paw made contact, all its fur vaporized instantly. The sheer heat seared its flesh, turning the limb into a charred, smoldering mess.

Zrymo howled in agony—but its momentum carried through, disrupting the fireball's stability.

BOOM!

The explosion tore through the street. Zrymo's body was hurled backward, its form riddled with burns. The blastwave sent the scarred man flying as well, his skin scorched from the flames.

Yet in the heart of the chaos, Zarn and Mico stood untouched—safely shielded within a controlled dome of blue fire.

Zarn blinked in amazement. "Mico?"

Yes? Mico answered cautiously, bracing for a reprimand.

"This is awesome!" Zarn grinned.

...You're not mad?

"Why would I be?"

We were in danger because of my fireball…

"Relax, would you? Today's a good day." Zarn ruffled Mico's mane with a smirk. "I don't really think I can be in danger."

Mico let out a deep, satisfied huff.

They stood together amidst the wreckage, one boy and his lion—untouched, unshaken, and completely in control.