One Good Deed a Day

"Your proficiency in Fireball Spell has reached the maximum level."

As the final wisp of flame extinguished, a look of relief finally appeared on the face of the gray-haired youth sitting at the desk.

This was Ethan's second year in this world, and for these two years, he had been doing the same thing—practicing the Fireball Spell.

After 4,015 prayers and 16,060 castings, he had finally elevated his proficiency in the Fireball Spell to the realm of perfection.

But soon, Ethan retracted his smile.

Compared to others, he was now merely slightly more proficient in the most basic of spells, the Fireball Spell.

Yet, outside this window, with the Ancient Gods awakening, the New Gods ascending, and their powerful followers roaming, he had no desire to get involved with such insane existences.

This world was fraught with danger, and the road ahead was still long.

Ethan lit the gas lamp in the room. The desk was piled high with documents, the top one being a notice posted by the guild a few days ago.

<Bounty Target: Werewolf, Estimated Danger Level: Tier 1>

The commission was issued by Mrs. Royce of the town. A few days ago, her husband had gone out hunting with a shotgun and never returned. When the guild organized a search party to scour the mountains, they discovered his half-devoured corpse. His chest cavity had been ripped open, and the attacker had consumed his heart.

All signs indicated that the killer was a werewolf—a product of those who worshipped the Goddess of the Hunt but failed their ascension, devolving into monsters that had completely lost their sanity and fed on hearts.

The bounty notice had been drafted by Ethan. He was a clerk at the Town Guild, and his job was to register abnormal cases occurring in town, issue bounty commissions, and record the progress of those commissions. Although the work was tedious, it allowed him to come into contact with cases involving anomalies without ever stepping outside. He only needed to sit at the rear to understand the movements within the town and even along the border.

However, today, a major error had occurred in Ethan's work.

The reason lay in the red moon outside the window at this very moment. The moon possessed a pupil that rotated from time to time, resembling a giant eye.

Ethan flipped open the old Parchment Book on his desk and looked up the corresponding chapter in the index.

Blood Moon Sacrifice.

He skipped the descriptive narrative and found the key section. The Parchment Book mentioned that under the influence of the Blood Moon, the power of evil and aberrant creatures would be significantly amplified. If manifested in a werewolf, this meant sharper sensory perception, greater strength, faster speed, and unparalleled regenerative abilities.

The Blood Moon would also amplify the negative emotions within a human's Inner Heart, causing them to lose their judgment under the influence of fear, anger, greed, and other negative states.

Simply put, this was a field buff that significantly enhanced Dark Creatures while simultaneously weakening humans.

The commission had been accepted by three experienced hunters, whom the guild had awarded Tier 1 medals. This should have been a foolproof hunt, but the sudden anomaly had changed everything.

In the end, it was a case of heaven's wrath and human resentment.

Ethan's Inner Heart was burning with anxiety.

As everyone knew, werewolves were gregarious Dark Creatures.

So, the question arose: why was there a lone wolf wandering the mountains outside the town, and why did it suddenly launch an attack on the people of the town?

Who was always casting Fireball Spells toward the mountains in the dead of night, and why did his skill proficiency occasionally increase by a small margin unnaturally?

Was this a distortion of human nature, or a loss of morality?

At this very moment, the red moon outside the window was scrutinizing the suspect, Ethan, in front of the gas lamp, much like a Detective.

Even nature seemed to pity the lonely werewolf in the mountains. Ethan could imagine that it had once been a carefree little wolf, living an isolated yet happy life in the mountains and forests. It had a large pack, and every wolf in the pack was gentle and friendly.

Until suddenly one day, several fireballs streaked across the starry sky and smashed into their foreheads.

Ethan, a member of the town's populace, knew that someone had cast over ten thousand Fireball Spells toward the deep mountains over the past two years, even causing two forest fires in the process. Every digit representing his proficiency was filled with the scent of sin.

The eerie red moon influenced Ethan. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could foresee the fate of the three hunters.

The sound of rustling reached his ears, and his Line of Sight shook violently. It seemed to be one of the three hunters, running in a panic through the forest. The hunter's pierced right leg prevented him from taking large strides, and he had to endure excruciating pain with every step he took.

The sound of the pursuit followed closely behind. The high-speed shadow darted through the bushes and leaped onto a tree branch.

The hunter looked up and saw the shadow streak past him. When the nearly three-meter-tall monster leaped down from above the man's head, a severed arm was tossed in front of him.

It looked like a Woman's arm, and it still bore the guild's insignia.

The hunter was so terrified that he fell to the ground, screaming and scrambling backward on his hands and feet. However, the massive body simply leaped lightly and mounted him.

The screaming was drowned out by the sound of breaking bones. The hunter's chest was torn open by sharp claws, revealing his still-beating heart. The monster, as if it had found a treasure, tore out the heart and swallowed it in one gulp.

"Hiss—!"

Ethan, feeling the empathy, gasped. He experienced the hunter's fear in the face of death, as well as the sorrow and anger in the werewolf's heart.

No werewolf wanted to be a lone wolf. It should have been hunting with its pack, and the entire valley should have been filled with a joyful atmosphere.

This could not go on!

Ethan's Inner Heart was gradually overwhelmed by guilt. Since all of this was caused by his Fireball Spell, it was only right that it should be ended by the Fireball Spell. He decided to use the warmth of the Fireball Spell to soothe the scars in the lone wolf's heart.

In this way, they could both find peace.

Thinking of this, Ethan began his 4,016th prayer.

Accompanied by a devout prayer, at the far end of the distant night sky, a meteor streaked across the distance. The rolling flames ignited the sky, which was stained with the color of blood, making the town feel as if it had returned to daylight.

Ethan had heard the people in town say that meteors represented hope. The meteor in the night sky drew closer and closer, finally crashing toward the mountain peak like a falling sun.

Unfortunately, his qualifications were still shallow, and he could only find a way to make the Fireball Spell look like a meteor, but he believed the lone wolf in the mountains must have seen it.

And then, just as depicted in fairy tales, the little wolf would see its grandmother in this intense radiance—so gentle, so loving. Grandmother would pick it up, hold it In Arms, and take it to fly to that world without cold, hunger, or pain.

This was the story of The Little Werewolf Who Bought Fireballs.

Ethan found a measure of comfort in this, gazing up at the blood moon hanging high in the night sky; clearly, the moon approved of his actions, closing its eyes and ceasing to scrutinize him with its cold, piercing gaze.

He had done another good deed today.

"Helped a runaway child reunite with their family."

Ethan lowered his head and recorded the good deed on the page.

Immediately after, he turned off the gas lamp and closed the notebook.

Brookwood Town Good Deeds Record.

The title was faintly inscribed on the cover of the notebook.