After school, we said goodbye to Leon. I decided not to spend money on a taxi and walk instead—I wanted to feel how the mana in my body responded to the cold air. The city lived its bustling life, until halfway down the road a massive black SUV braked next to me.

  The window slowly rolled down, revealing a familiar face. The very same guy who had thrown me the "little job" with the baggies.

  "Kid, get inside, quick," he hissed through his teeth.

  I didn't argue. It was interesting, after all. I jumped into the back seat. Next to me sat some important turkey in an expensive suit—apparently, the local boss. My "employer" and the driver sat up front.

  "You can probably guess why we invited you for an audience?" the boss began imposingly.

  "Of course," I nodded, dangling my legs. "You decided it's time to pay my fee. Plus interest for the walk."

  My employer in the front turned around sharply. The blued barrel of a gun gleamed in his hand. He forcefully pressed the cold muzzle to my temple.

  "You little shit! What did you do to our product?! We lost clients. A lot of serious clients! They are terrified now, saying it's not dope, but a curse!"

  My wrist bracelet instantly went crazy. It flashed a toxic red, biting into my skin with short electric shocks. Beep-beep-beep! The sound filled the SUV's cabin, grating on the nerves.

  "JUST TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING TOY ALREADY!" the thug yelled.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "Oops, sorry," I smirked.

  My reaction was faster than the human eye. My palm smashed into his arm—there was a crunch of bones, and the gun simply flew out of his limp fingers. I intercepted the weapon mid-air and pointed it... at myself.

  The driver and the front passenger immediately drew their own pieces, but I beat them to it.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I emptied the entire magazine into my own temple. The roar in the enclosed space was deafening. The thugs froze with their mouths open. The bullets, colliding with my skin, deformed into shapeless lead pancakes and fell softly onto the leather seat, as if I were made of titanium.

  I turned to the boss and smiled widely. His face became whiter than the snow outside the window.

  "Low-quality lead," I summarized.

  A sharp backhand strike—and my arm punched through the back of the front seat along with the driver's head. The SUV, losing control, swerved at full speed, crashed into the barrier, and flipped over.

  A crash, the screech of metal, the ringing of broken glass. When everything quieted down, I kicked out the mangled door and calmly climbed outside. The car was lying on its roof, smoke pouring from under the hood.

  I walked over to the gas tank. A snap of my fingers—and a tiny, perfectly blue little flame danced on the tip of my index finger.

  "It's much more efficient to clean up this way," I muttered.

  I brought my finger to the leaking fuel and, to avoid dirtying my school uniform, quickly ran to the side.

  KABOOM!

  A mushroom of fire bloomed in the middle of the empty road, swallowing the SUV along with all its occupants and problems. I didn't even look back.

  I opened my backpack, fished out the bottle of pills, and swallowed one, feeling the bracelet gradually quiet down and the burning in my neck pass.

  'Why the hell did I shoot myself?' I thought, wiping soot from my face. 'Just to show off? Overdid it... Next time I need to be more modest. Otherwise, the pills will run out before the school year does.'

  Slinging the backpack over my shoulder, I walked on. After all, I still needed to figure out where to hide my roommate's forks. That was far more important than blown-up SUVs.