I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why today of all days I was getting so lucky. First, I found out that my mom and sister are witches, which somehow triggered this strange achievement system. Then, I didn't even have to beg them on my knees to teach me magic. And now, it turns out that the reward for my first achievement seems tailor-made for human mages in this world.

Tomoe didn't go into much detail today, but even so, anyone with half a brain could put two and two together and realize that magic here is essentially an interpretation of demonic power filtered through the lens of human science. In other words, Merlin turned the "supernatural powers" of demons into something I can't help but sarcastically call "magical math". Sure, it requires talent — not everyone can pull it off — but my reward for the achievement [Witch Craft Works] seems to be just that talent.

In this world, human magic requires precise calculations and a deep understanding of the phenomenon you want to produce. Of course, for simple things like boiling water, you don't need complex calculations. However, if you want to summon lightning, conjure a fiery tornado, or even replicate a nuclear explosion, you'd need to process such an immense amount of information that a normal person would fry their brain before accomplishing anything. And you'd have to do all of this at insane speeds while also being aware of your surroundings, considering these are battle spells we're talking about.

But the Alchemy of Atlas will turn me into a living computer... Is this a coincidence, or did luck just bite me in the ass? I mused, but that thought quickly faded as anticipation took over.

Tomoe hadn't explained exactly how the processes of measurement, calculation, and manifestation of supernatural phenomena worked yet, but I had a rough understanding of the structure. The activation of magic follows three stages, or "processes," as they're called:

The first process is Measurement — this is where the mage gathers the initial data needed to create the magical phenomenon. It's similar to collecting data in a scientific experiment. Take, for example, casting a spell to summon lightning. The mage needs to account for various variables, like direction, range, trajectory, the current's strength, and the voltage of the lightning they want to create. And that's just part of the equation. You also have to factor in your own position, so the lightning doesn't strike you, and the enemy's position to ensure accuracy. Additional variables might include shape, activation time, acceleration, or even environmental factors: Is it cold? Is the air thin? What's the pressure like? The Measurement process requires precision and attention to detail, because any mistake at this stage could lead to disastrous results in the later phases.

The second process, Calculation, is the stage where all the measurements — the variables — are sent to the brain for processing. Essentially, mages mathematically compute the phenomenon they intend to create from the gathered data. The final product of this stage is an equation that describes the intended phenomenon. This process is similar to solving a complex mathematical equation or running a program on a computer, where the input data (the variables) are transformed into output (the result). The question that intrigued me the most was how and why a mage's brain is able to take ordinary information and compute an equation that can then be transformed into a supernatural event. Tomoe hadn't explained how this works yet, saying I'd have to wait until I awakened my magical power — the energy that's analogous to demonic power or the power of light. Maybe it's connected to special neural pathways or biochemical processes that activate in mages. Either way, I'd only find out once I became a full-fledged mage.

The third process, Manifestation, is when the equation is constructed into a magic circle, which is then released into the physical world, bringing the magic to life as the mage envisioned it. Magic circles, in essence, are the visual representation of equations, serving as the tool for unleashing supernatural phenomena. This stage is akin to compiling and running a program, where the equation is the code and the magic circle is the machine code that executes the program. Magic circles are the final product of most human magic.

Thus, completing all three stages — from gathering variables to releasing the magic circle — within half a second is considered the standard for a practical-level mage.

"Alright, time to get started," I thought, pushing aside unnecessary thoughts and glancing at the clock on my bedside table. "Half past ten. Tomorrow's a day off, so I should have enough time, even if I oversleep a bit. Just hope this doesn't drag on too long".

I focused on the last line of my achievement reward's description.

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[Friendly Reminder: This is an inheritance set — prepare a safe place where you can spend the next few hours in "oblivion".]

"Well then, here's to a pleasant oblivion," I muttered, my face twisting in response to the ridiculous pun.

Right after that, a new screen popped up in front of me.

[Accept Reward?]

[Yes] [No]

"Yes, hell yes!" These were the last coherent thoughts that crossed my mind as my consciousness began to fade.

…

…

…

If someone asked my friends to describe me, they'd instantly say: weird! And honestly, they wouldn't be wrong. I wasn't your average person. It's not out of pride, like "I'm so special" — not at all. In most ways, I'm just like any other person you pass by every day. But there were two "things" in my life that made me stand out, just a little.

First off, I was sick. Although, I hate calling it that. Sick people either lie at home under a blanket, basking in warmth and comfort, or they're in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs with a tube in their urethra. I didn't have the luxury of lounging around at home, nor was I in such a bad state that I needed to spend my days and nights in a hospital room. So, I preferred to say I had "a peculiar condition".

Basically, I lost the ability to feel fear. No creepy sounds, no disturbing images — nothing fazed me. I could watch horror movies endlessly and read scary stories, trying to stir up some fear inside me, but it was useless. It seemed like my brain just didn't care when a jumpscare filled the screen — something that would've made me crap my pants in the past. Sure, I could recognize the scary elements and identify the "frightening" moments in movies, but the feeling of fear itself? That was beyond me.

This started when I was fourteen. Mom was really scared back then… which is kind of ironic, being scared because I wasn't able to feel fear. But I understood — what if my brain was being eaten away by some weird thing, messing with my right amygdala, the part responsible for fear? Still, I was skeptical of that theory since the right amygdala also helps with recognizing faces, and I had no issues there. But I wasn't a doctor, so I didn't argue. Plus, the usual fear of doctors? Gone.

At the hospital, much to my surprise, they found something "suspicious". Honestly, that was such an irritatingly vague term for the strange shadow in my brain. The tomography scan showed a small shadow near my right amygdala. But even the doctor couldn't say what it was. That answer wasn't good enough for my mom, so she took me to several major clinics, but no one could give a clear diagnosis or suggest a treatment. After going through all the tests and seeing more doctors than I could count, we realized this condition would go down in medical history.

As the patient, I was left with two decisions: which doctor would get the honor of naming my condition, and whether or not I'd donate my brain for medical research after I died.

Years passed, and my condition didn't change. The only thing I had to do was avoid potentially dangerous situations — wild dogs, sharp objects, heights, and cars. Other than that, my body worked fine. I was completely healthy, just with a "peculiar condition". Since the loss of fear was my only symptom and no one could explain what had happened to me, I decided not to stress about it and just live with it.

The irony? In the end, it wasn't the shadow in my brain that killed me—it was some asshole on the road.

The second oddity of mine was more like a disorder, though not quite in the same sense as obsessive-compulsive disorder. It was an obsessive urge to read — something that could rightfully be called a real disorder. The average person wouldn't understand my burning need to read. For example, I read every word on the shampoo bottle. I went through every manual for all the electronics in the house, from cover to cover. If something or someone caught my interest, I immediately started hunting for every bit of information I could find about it. On top of that, I had an uncanny ability to comprehend and remember what I read. I didn't have photographic memory, but I could recall at least half of the material I consumed.

As I mentioned, it wasn't on the level of obsessive-compulsive disorder. My "obsessive-reader disorder" didn't interfere with my daily life. I could easily shift my attention to vital human activities like eating, drinking, sleeping, or, well, relieving myself. It also didn't turn me into a jerk who'd drop everything and everyone just because I spotted something interesting that I had to read right then and there. I'd just lock myself in my room for hours after coming home…

In a way, you could even call it a born trait… though it would probably rank no higher than an "E". But still.

…

I guess that was the most interesting thing about my first life.

In my second life, to my delight, I was rid of one of my "oddities". I regained the ability to feel that sweet and essential emotion: fear. And honestly, it was amazing. Living without the fear of losing someone close to you wasn't as great as it sounded, even if I could still feel the pain of their loss. Plus, the thrill of almost crapping myself while watching "The Ring" two years ago? Unmatched.

…

Don't even ask how a four-year-old boy managed to watch that movie. Like I said before: I have a weird family, and my mom? She's probably the weirdest of all. Honestly, my "unhealthy" obsession with reading was much less noticeable compared to the bright personality of my mother.

…

What's with these strange gaps in my thoughts?

But before I could dwell on that, I opened my eyes. And what I felt then was a whole new world unfolding in front of me.