"Absorb."

[You have absorbed the tome 'A Guide Towards Mana Mastery'.]

[Due to your exhaustive comprehension of this tome, you have learned the special spell 'Mana Manipulation', Lv.1]

[Not many learn this, but those that do have many paths opened up in front of them. Your outstanding control over mana will allow you to combine, enhance, and defragment spells. Given its low level, however, you can only modify Neophyte-Tier spells.]

It was midnight, and Jered couldn't sleep. He had been thinking about what had unfolded at Mistwood Town. It didn't sit well with him. Ever since he was bestowed the mana circuit, he had been at the top of the world. He felt powerful, confident, and capable of doing anything. Not to mention the system backing him up. But that man. He had something Jered didn't have. Experience. The only reason he bested him was thanks to an overwhelmingly superior spell.

He leaned back, and stared at the ceiling.

The window was half-open, the curtains fluttering on the breeze.

It was exactly then that a notification popped up.

[Paranoia! is glad to announce that the user, ID: 00127 has finally met the requirements for the last quest.]

[You have triggered your fourth quest!]

[Quest of Determination: Paranoia!'s previous host's position is indicated in the mini-map. Find him, and eliminate him.]

[Reward: Mana Heart.]

[Failure: Your memories of Paranoia! will be erased. Your mana circuit, along with the knowledge of the spells, will be extracted.]

A square-ish hologram with Eastford's topography appeared on the top-right of his vision. A red dot blinked urgently in the middle. Jered was a bit surprised, still, he knew what he had to do. It was the first time a quest had come with a failure penalty. Then again, this was the most important one. He couldn't, and wouldn't, fail it. He sprung up to his feet, got dressed in dark clothes, and jumped out of the window.

Two mana pads cushioned his landing. He cast 'Conceal' over himself, and sprinted towards his target.

George was drunk as usual. After the fifth shot, he stopped counting. It was his usual daily routine—Go out. Move from one bar to the other. Drink until he was wasted. Numb the pain. Cry his eyes out in some shady alleyway. Pass out. His life had taken a turn for the worse when he experienced that gap in memories. He could only remember that he fought with his wife. A lot. They screamed at each other, threw bottles at the wall, and at some point, she took their daughter away from him.

"You've changed, George," she had said, "You're not the man I married."

And then, they were out of his life. She didn't kick him out. She just took their child and straight up left. And where she went, he didn't know.

That was how it all started.

He lost his job, and was forced to sell his house to fund his drinking habit.

Something was not right, but he could not tell what it was. He didn't know who to blame. It felt like a joke. A twisted prank.

He had lost everything. His wife. His daughter. His house. And his pride as a man.

George stared at his wedding ring as he staggered forward. It was the only item that survived their break-up, and the only thing he refused to pawn, "Clara..." he croaked out, almost tumbling down. He just wanted to find a quiet place to pass out, since he doubted he could make it back home without collapsing on the sidewalk, "Clara..." he bit his bottom lip, and brought the bottle of liquor up, chugging whatever was left.

In his drunken haze, he almost missed the sound behind him. It was deep in the night, and there was no one around him. While Eastford was not particularly dangerous, crimes such as theft were recurring everywhere. Besides, in his current state, he was defenseless. George's footsteps clattered disjointedly against the asphalt, and he made as much noise as possible.

He tugged the hems of his jacket straighter against the chilly breeze, or maybe against the nervous shivers kissing his spine. Honestly, he didn't know. He couldn't think straight. If he let his thoughts run wild, he'd be afraid even of his shadow dancing in the dim-lit avenue. That's why he made it a habit of monitoring the situation behind him every five steps, two steps for each side, and one more to calm himself down.

The faint moonlight paved his way back home, though whether he could get back there in time was a different matter altogether. Another set of footsteps suddenly joined his, and George almost whipped his head around. It started as a light patter, a pebble-crunching noise easily drowned out by the metropolitan activities in the distance, but as he quickened his pace, so did those footsteps.

He couldn't afford to bolt into a sprint either. He was too drunk to coordinate himself. He'd fall down and become easy prey. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the dark silhouette of a slender person flickering ominously next to his. The problem was that he could only see the shadow, not the person. Yes, something was wrong. George clutched his hands in prayer, and turned towards a more populated lane, so more people would hear in case he needed to scream.

The figure stalking him must have realized this as the heavy thudding of their treading started slowing down. The headlights of a random car washed over them as it drove by, and the mysterious figure's footsteps disappeared in the dusky night. George heaved a sigh of relief as he accelerated, or at least he tried to.

Damn, he regretted drowning in so much alcohol.

The silence was restored, though that somehow scared him more than the ominous footsteps. He was so busy paying attention to his back that he neglected his front. George didn't notice him until it was too late. Just as he began to turn back around, he crashed into someone, and fell down. George was too dizzy to register the pain, but the shadow enlargening in front of him was too eye-catching to ignore.

Shit!

He looked up, and the claws of fear immediately grasped his heart. Green. Those were not the eyes of a human. George hastily scurried back, hoping to lengthen the distance between them.

"Sorry, I don't have anything against you," Jered said. His 'Conceal' was still active, but in the end, it was still a sub-spell. Since he had brazenly shown himself, there was no way Goerge couldn't see him.

"P-Please... I don't have any money on me..."

"I'm not here for your money."

"Then..."

Jered smiled, and pointed a finger at him. A light flashed out.

A sharp pain hitched a gasp on George's throat. With a wheeze, he looked down. Blood streamed down from the fresh hole in his chest, "W-Why?" he tamponed the leaking wound with his hand, hoping to halt the overflowing blood. Death was just around the corner, "H-Help..." it sounded stupid to use whatever little energy he still had for a futile cry of help. There was no one around. The street was dark and empty. He was alone. Jered didn't want to linger, but he had to ensure that George died.

With another flick of his finger, a new hole burst into the wailing man's head. The 'Mana Beam' cleaved through his brain, instantly mushing it into a soup of brain matter. George's face was forever stuck in a horrified expression. And when he slumped back, a mantle of blue flames lit up all over him. It barely took a few heartbeats for his body to char into an unrecognizable mess. Less than a minute later, and George was successfully cremated.

Such an important quest was also the easiest one.

[Quest completed.]

[You have been awarded a Mana Heart]

[Do you want to open the reward right now? Y/N]

Well, no complaint from him.

[Congratulations on completing the mandatory 4 quests! The Wheel of Fate is ready to bestow you a class!]

Jered recast 'Conceal', and disappeared into the shadows. George's ashes flew high up in the air, leaving behind a powdery trail.

He might have been a good man with poor life choices. And as much as he regretted it, there would be no one to mourn him.

The screen was different. It almost occupied the entirety of his vision, and it couldn't be brushed off.

A sort of wheel of fortune was in the middle, blinking in a display of vibrant colors. The base plate was divided into innumerable sections, and no matter how much he squinted, he couldn't make out the names within them. A button with the word 'Spin' sat beneath it. Jered didn't know what to expect, yet he didn't hesitate. With a thought, the wheel began spinning. It went on for a good few minutes before its speed dropped off, the arrow struggling to tick by.

Then it stopped. A burst of lights went off, before a congratulatory message popped up.

[Congratulations! The Wheel of Fate has chosen your class.]

[New class unlocked: Twilight Conjurer | Type: Magician.]

[You're the one who walks between shadows and flames.]

[Your Mana Circuit has been improved.]

[The mana consumption for shadow and fire-related spells have been reduced by 50%]

[The magic power for shadow and fire-related spells have been enhanced by 50%]

[You can now use the Royal-Tier spell 'Pharaoh's Flame' for slightly prolonged use of time without side effects.]

Something had fundamentally changed. Jered's flow of mana was steadier, smoother, and faster. The delay between the intention and execution of a spell had been vastly shortened. With his current condition, he wondered how he'd fare in a battle against that man. Maybe he'd still lose. He did lack fighting experience, after all. That was not something he could simply rectify by reading and absorbing tomes.

The last quest's reward still hovered close by. And remembering the pain that came with his Mana Circuit, he doubted it would have been any less unpleasant now. He had to prepare himself accordingly. He grabbed a piece of cloth and tucked it between his teeth. 'Conceal' didn't do much about sounds, and he didn't want to jumpscare the shit out of his mother and his sister with his screams. He had to bite the bullet and get over it.

"Open rewards."