Ethan slept deeply. When he woke the next morning, the red moon was gone.
Even the gods had been moved by his good deed.
He pulled a parchment book from beneath his pillow. On the cover were the words:
Fireball and Frostbolt: A Study of Mana
It was his daily required reading.
Read. Practice. Comprehend.
The book only recorded the simplest elemental spells. The advantage was that even a complete outsider—someone who had never touched elemental magic—could understand it.
Today, he could finally move his cultivation to the next stage.
When Ethan first arrived in this world, he'd had grand ambitions. He'd fantasized about becoming the kind of transmigration protagonist who climbed to the peak of life.
Reality, once again, struck him hard.
His talent for magic was… not great.
From the day he began reading Fireball and Frostbolt: A Study of Mana, it had taken him an entire week just to condense his first tiny flame. And reaching max proficiency had taken two full years.
The only good news was that he was still young. At his current pace, even if he fully mastered the entire book, he'd only be in his early thirties.
A normal elemental mage, with just enough power to protect himself.
That was Ethan's vision for the future.
He called it his first ten-year plan.
There was nothing wrong with being ordinary.
Ethan turned to the page after Fireball and began reading with relish, leaning back against the bed.
The book stated that the searing nature of the fire element could effectively restrain dark creatures.
However, in a world where the legal system was incomplete, cultists of evil gods ran rampant, and great nobles could decide the fate of commoners with a flick of the wrist… it was inevitable that one would have to deal with people.
And so, the author noted, the ice element was especially suited to resolving disputes between humans.
Ethan's goal was to become a flawless all-rounder.
Even a miniature hexagon was still a hexagon.
Frostbolt—From Beginner to Master.
The author was the famous Mister Anonymous.
In the book, he proposed a fascinating theory: the resonance between mana and the elements came from emotion.
The clearer and stronger the emotion, the more easily one could earn an element's response.
Compared to two years ago, Ethan was now a veteran. Through endless Fireball practice, he had faintly grasped the essence of emotion.
The author believed the fire element's nature corresponded to glory—it favored the ambitious.
That was not easy for Ethan.
Because when he tried to recall the brightest moments of his life… he couldn't find any.
After racking his brain all the way back to middle school—when he once placed top five in his grade in an exam—he was mercilessly rejected by the fire element.
Ice was the exact opposite.
The author believed its nature corresponded to pain, to low tides, to the cold depths.
Ethan felt this was probably why one could only practice one spell at a time.
The elements possessed emotion and will.
If you tried to cultivate several at once, they would probably label you a heartbreaker.
No "two-timing" allowed.
He closed his eyes and felt mana flowing through his body.
Now he needed to recall the coldest moment of his life.
Compared to Fireball practice, memories surged up immediately.
Falling into the river as a child?
Getting shoved into a snowdrift while doing winter duty?
No. Neither.
Ethan filtered through those memories almost instantly and found the coldest moment.
It was the tail end of summer.
At a friend's enthusiastic recommendation, he had poured every bit of money he'd saved over years of hard work into the stock market.
"You only get one chance in life to make a bet like this."
He could still hear that devil's whisper.
He'd fantasized about being one step away from financial freedom—never again needing to read a supervisor's face.
In his mind, he walked aimlessly down a bustling street. It was twenty-something degrees out, yet he shivered so hard his bones ached. He'd wanted to climb the tallest building in the city and fall with the evening wind.
When he opened his eyes again, he let out a heavy breath.
A thin frost spread from his bed all the way to the window, blooming into ice flowers. Cold gathered in the palm he held before his chest, coalescing into a tight cluster.
In that instant, his emotion resonated with the ice element.
"It's already in the past. It'll get better."
The ice element seemed to be comforting him.
If it had hands, it might have patted his shoulder.
And in his skill list, a new entry appeared.
Frostbolt (Beginner): Proficiency 1/45
Ethan stared at the ice element swirling above his palm for a long time.
He should have been happy.
After all, he had learned Frostbolt with only a single meditation. He had formed a close mental link with the ice element.
He even received its comfort.
But he couldn't smile at all.
Did that mean someone as miserable as him… was naturally suited to ice?
It was supposed to be a good thing.
Yet that warm, humane voice felt like it had stabbed his sealed heart all over again.
Knock knock knock—knock knock knock.
The pounding interrupted his thoughts. Ethan quickly dispersed the ice element and slid Fireball and Frostbolt: A Study of Mana back under his pillow. He wiped away the frost blossoms on the bed and straightened his clothes.
A voice came from outside. "Ethan, it's Sheriff Ivy. I'd like to discuss the werewolf case with you."
"Coming!"
Ethan answered, pulled on his shoes, and went to the door.
A slender figure in a black trench coat waited outside. Beneath her gold monocle, her eyes were brown. Compared to a sheriff, Ivy looked more like a private detective.
In Ethan's mind, a sheriff should have worn light armor, muscles like a bear, a sword never leaving their side—someone who made people feel safe at a glance.
Not someone like Ivy, stepping around in high-heeled riding boots that looked wildly impractical for combat.
But when he saw the revolver at her waist, he could only sigh.
Times had changed.
If there was one thing about Sheriff Ivy that left the deepest impression on Ethan, it wasn't her stoic face.
It was the small tuft of blond hair on top of her head.
He always felt that tuft had its own personality—and consciousness.
Just like now: Ivy's expression remained as flat as ever, but the tuft of blond hair swayed cheerfully, as if waving hello to him.
Ivy worshiped the God of Truth. Rumor had it she was an excellent graduate of the Society of Enlightenment, and the town's only officially registered Tier Two transcendent.
The God of Truth granted her boundless curiosity and keen observation—making it easier for her to see through the essence of things, and also… their weaknesses.
Ivy immediately noticed Ethan's current mental state.
"Sorry," she said. "Maybe I came at a bad time. But this concerns the town's safety, and I need your help answering a few questions."
Ethan forced himself to steady his mind. "Something happened to the hunters' team?"
"They're fine. In fact, they completed the hunt superbly." Ivy paused. "But they brought back… this."
Ethan let out a breath of relief.
Ivy reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an object.
A finely made leather collar, with a rope attached.
In front of Ethan, she unfastened it and revealed strange runes inscribed on the inside.
Ethan's gaze sharpened instantly. "That looks like the script used by cultists of evil gods."
"That's exactly what worries me."
"Come in."
As soon as Ivy stepped inside, Ethan locked the door, shut the windows, and drew the curtains.
Ivy sat at the table with a grim expression, turning the leather collar over in her hands. Only after the room fell completely silent did she explain, "The hunters found it on the werewolf's remains."
"I meant to store it in the evidence room, but…" She hesitated. "This may sound crude, but I… I wanted to put it on my neck."
Ivy held the collar delicately, examining it with almost obsessive focus.
Ethan, meanwhile, was completely distracted by the blond tuft on her head. It split into two tiny "hands," covered its own "eyes," and then pounded its "chest" in despair.
This is getting harder and harder to watch.
Ethan could practically hear that tuft screaming it.
"Ethan?"
Ivy's call snapped him back. "You're the most knowledgeable person in town when it comes to the occult. I want your opinion."
She lifted her gaze. "Is it possible… for a werewolf to be domesticated?"
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