Ethan slept soundly that night, and by the time he woke the next morning, the red moon was gone.

  Apparently even the gods had been moved by his good deed.

  He reached under his pillow and pulled out a parchment book. The title on the cover read Fireball and Ice Arrow Fundamentals. It was part of his daily routine.

  Read, practice, reflect.

  The book only covered the simplest elemental spells, which was exactly why it suited someone like him. Ethan had come into this world knowing absolutely nothing about elemental magic, and this was one of the few books he could actually work through on his own.

  Today, he could finally move on to the next stage of training.

  When Ethan had first arrived in this world, he had dreamed big. Like every transmigration protagonist in every story ever, he had imagined himself climbing all the way to the top.

  Reality had punched him in the face almost immediately.

  His magical talent was, frankly, not great.

  From the day he first opened Fireball and Ice Arrow Fundamentals, it had taken him a full week just to summon his first tiny spark. Getting Fireball to max proficiency had taken two whole years.

  The only good news was that he was still young. At this rate, if he studied the whole book from cover to cover, he would only be in his early thirties by the time he finished.

  A perfectly ordinary 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.

  He turned to the page after Fireball, leaned back against the bed, and started reading with real interest.

  The book explained that the searing nature of fire made it especially effective against dark creatures. But in a world with broken laws, rampaging cultists, and powerful nobles who could casually decide the fate of common people, trouble with monsters was only part of the problem. Sooner or later, you also had to deal with people.

  And according to the author, ice magic was especially useful for resolving conflicts between people.

  Ethan's goal was to become the kind of well-rounded fighter with no weak spots.

  A tiny all-rounder still counted as an all-rounder.

  Ice Arrow, From Beginner to Mastery.

  The author was the famous Mr. Anonymous.

  In the book, he proposed a particularly interesting idea. He believed the resonance between magic and the elements came from emotion. The sharper and stronger the emotion, the easier it was to gain an element's response.

  Compared to the Ethan of two years ago, he was practically a veteran now. Through endless Fireball practice, he had already begun to grasp the emotional core behind elemental magic.

  According to the author, the essence of fire was brilliance. Fire favored the ambitious.

  That had not been easy for Ethan.

  He honestly struggled to think of any true highlight reel moment in his life. When he dug all the way back to middle school and tried to use the time he had ranked in the top five on an exam, the fire element had rejected him without a second thought.

  Ice was the exact opposite.

  According to the author, its essence was pain, the low point, the coldest stretch of a person's life.

  Ethan figured that was probably why you could only train one spell at a time. The elements clearly had feelings and awareness of their own. Try to practice several spells at once, and they would probably mark you as a cheater.

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  There was no playing both sides.

  He closed his eyes and felt the flow of magic moving through his body.

  Now he needed to revisit the coldest moment of his life.

  Compared to when he had practiced Fireball, the memories came almost at once.

  Was it the time he fell into the river as a child while playing by the bank?

  Or the day someone shoved him into a snowdrift while he was on cleaning duty?

  No.

  Neither of those.

  Ethan almost instantly picked out the coldest memory of all.

  It had been near the end of summer. At a friend's very enthusiastic recommendation, he had poured every last bit of savings he had scraped together over several years of work straight into the stock market.

  "You only get one chance in life to make a bet like this."

  He could still hear that whisper in his ear, like a devil murmuring from the dark.

  Back then, he had truly believed financial freedom was only one step away. No more dealing with his boss. No more swallowing his pride at work.

  He pictured himself again, wandering aimlessly through a crowded city street.

  The weather had been in the seventies, but he had felt so cold he could barely stop shaking.

  Cold enough to want to climb the tallest building in the city and let the evening wind carry him down.

  When Ethan opened his eyes again, he let out a long breath of warm air.

  A thin layer of frost spread from the bed all the way to the window, blooming into delicate ice patterns across the glass. Cold gathered in the palm resting against his chest, condensing into a cluster of pale frost.

  In that moment, his emotions resonated with the ice element.

  "It's over now. Things will get better."

  It was almost as if the ice element was comforting him. If it had hands, it probably would have patted him on the shoulder.

  And in his skill list, a new entry had quietly appeared.

  [Ice Arrow, Beginner. Proficiency, 1/45.]

  Ethan stared for a long time at the ice element swirling above his palm.

  He felt like he should have been happy.

  After all, he had learned Ice Arrow after a single meditation session. He had formed a close mental link with the ice element, and it had even comforted him.

  But he could not smile at all.

  Was someone as miserable as him secretly born to be an ice mage?

  It should have been good news, yet that soft, weirdly compassionate voice felt like one more knife sinking into a heart he had already buried.

  Knock knock knock.

  The sound at the door broke his train of thought.

  He quickly dispersed the ice in his hand, slid Fireball and Ice Arrow Fundamentals back under the pillow, wiped the frost from the bed, and straightened his clothes.

  The person outside gave her name.

  "Ethan, it's Sheriff Ivy. I'd like to talk to you about the werewolf case."

  "Coming."

  Ethan answered at once, pulled on his shoes, and headed for the door.

  A slim figure in a black coat was waiting outside.

  Behind the gold monocle was a pair of brown eyes. More than a sheriff, Ivy looked like a private detective. In Ethan's mind, a sheriff ought to be wearing light armor, built like a wall, sword always at their side, the kind of person who made you feel safe at a glance.

  Not someone like Ivy, clicking around in high-heeled boots that looked terrible for a fight.

  Then he noticed the revolver at her waist and could only sigh.

  Times had changed.

  Still, the thing Ethan remembered most about the sheriff was the little tuft of blond hair sticking up on top of her head. He had long suspected it possessed an independent personality and maybe even its own consciousness.

  Just like right now.

  Ivy herself wore the same flat expression as always, but that little tuft of hair was practically waving hello at him.

  Ivy was a follower of the God of Truth. Rumor had it she was an outstanding graduate of the Society of Enlightenment, and the only officially registered Tier Two adept in all of Willowbrook.

  The God of Truth had blessed her with boundless curiosity and sharp powers of observation, making it easier for her to see through things to their true nature.

  And their weaknesses.

  Ivy took one look at Ethan and immediately picked up on his mental state.

  "Sorry. Maybe this isn't the best time," she said. "But this concerns the town's safety, and I'd like your help with a few questions."

  Ethan quickly pulled himself together.

  "Did something happen to the hunting party?"

  "They're all fine. In fact, they handled the hunt extremely well. But they brought back this."

  Ethan quietly let out a breath of relief.

  Ivy reached into the inner pocket of her coat and took something out.

  It was a finely made leather collar, with a length of rope attached to it. Right in front of Ethan, she undid the buckle and showed him the strange symbols carved into the inner side of the leather.

  Ethan went alert immediately.

  "That looks like script used by cultists of the Old Gods."

  "That's exactly what worries me."

  "Come in."

  Once Ivy stepped inside, Ethan locked the door at once, shut the windows, and pulled the curtains closed.

  Ivy sat at the desk with a grave expression, absentmindedly turning the leather collar over in her hands. Only after the room was fully quiet did she explain.

  "The hunters found it on the werewolf's remains."

  Then she hesitated for a second.

  "I was going to put it in the evidence room, but... this is going to sound a little improper. For some reason, I wanted to put it on."

  As Ivy held the leather collar and examined it, Ethan found himself completely distracted by the tuft of blond hair on top of her head.

  It had split into two tiny "hands" and was covering its own "eyes" in apparent despair.

  This child has seen enough.

  That was more or less the emotion Ethan got from it.

  "Ethan?"

  Ivy's voice snapped him out of it.

  "You're the most knowledgeable person in town when it comes to the occult," she said. "So I want your opinion. Is it possible for a werewolf to be domesticated by someone?"