The Extra's Rise-Chapter 244: Second Year (4)

Enhanced Aura Mechanics had been about as useful as a book with half the pages missing. Informative, certainly, but not something I could truly apply until I actually reached low Integration-rank. At best, it was like being given instructions for a machine I wasn’t allowed to turn on yet. Still, knowledge was knowledge, and I filed it away for later use.

After class, I found myself on the training grounds, surrounded by the quiet hum of magic woven into the very air. This was where I could actually do something useful—testing the limits of my time, gravity, and space magic.

Elemental hierarchy wasn’t just a ranking of which magic was flashiest. It was an order defined by complexity, versatility, and sheer reality-warping potential. Light and dark stood alone at the top, not because they were the strongest in brute force, but because they didn’t obey the same rules as the rest. Every other element followed the fundamental laws of magic—light and dark simply… didn’t. They functioned on a different set of principles, ones no mage had ever fully unraveled.

Below them sat the three that shaped existence itself: time, space, and gravity. The trifecta of reality, as they were sometimes called.

Time magic, at first glance, seemed like the most powerful of them all. The ability to control time? The possibilities sounded infinite. Rewind a mistake, pause a battle, undo death itself—it was the kind of magic that made gods out of mortals.

In theory.

In reality, time magic was one of the most disappointing disciplines to actually use.

No one could rewind time. That was a fantasy, a fever dream of scholars who had never actually tried using it. The very idea of rewinding time—of undoing the past—was fundamentally impossible. At best, you could slow things down for a few moments, freeze someone in place for a fraction of a second, or speed up your own reflexes just enough to make a difference in a fight.

Useful? Yes. Reality-shattering? Hardly.

The only reason time magic hadn’t faded into obscurity was because it was stupidly difficult to counter. A skilled time mage could manipulate the flow of a fight in ways that no other element could, even if the effects were temporary. But true manipulation of time, the kind that turned back the clock or created alternate futures?

That was a bedtime story for gullible first-years.

Space magic had a similar problem. It sounded invincible at first—teleportation, warping space, bending reality around yourself so attacks never even reached you. But once you actually tried to use it, the limitations became painfully clear. Teleportation wasn’t instantaneous. It required precise calculations, immense mana control, and a ridiculous amount of focus. Mess up even slightly, and you’d end up embedding yourself halfway through a wall or dropping yourself into the middle of the ocean. And while warping space to block attacks was effective, it was also absurdly mana-intensive.

The only reason space magic remained relevant was because of its potential in travel. If humans ever figured out interstellar exploration, it wouldn’t be through technology. It would be through space magic. But for now, even that was still beyond reach.

Gravity magic, on the other hand, was refreshingly straightforward.

You increase gravity, things get heavier. You decrease gravity, things get lighter. You condense it, you get black holes. It was practical, devastating in combat, and didn’t require a dozen calculations every time you wanted to use it. Ren was living proof of its effectiveness—his family’s Grade 6 art, Void Fist, was a brutal demonstration of how gravity could be used to destroy, control, and manipulate the battlefield at will.

Compared to time and space, gravity magic was the least "fancy."

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It was also the one that punched the hardest.

My training partner? Kali Maelkith.

Since reaching Integration-rank, the gap between us had widened in ways that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. If I pushed myself to the absolute limit—burned through every ounce of mana, every trick, every ounce of my will—I could maybe, barely, eke out a win against her in a straight fight.

But that wasn’t the point of this training.

She stood across from me, her stance casual but coiled, like a predator waiting for an excuse to pounce. Her brown eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and she flicked her black hair over her shoulder with the ease of someone who wasn’t remotely concerned about how this was going to go.

"Let’s get started already, Arthur," she said, impatience creeping into her tone.

Right. No need for dramatic monologues.

I let out a breath, and the sigils of Lucent Harmony flared to life on my skin, glowing softly as the world sharpened around me. The usual rush of calm settled over my core, a cold, logical clarity that wiped away all hesitation. I could see mana, not just as an external force but as an interconnected weave, every strand of it alive and shifting. More than that, I could feel the elements I had no direct control over—time, space, gravity—tugging at the edges of my senses, waiting.

An overpowered ability, really. The kind that made you wonder if the universe had been a little too generous in handing it out.

Not that I was complaining.

I refrained from using my artifact, keeping things fair—for now.

The air between us rippled as Kali activated her own mana. It was dark, thick, coiling around her like living shadows. She didn’t just manipulate darkness—she became it, her presence spreading through the training grounds like an approaching storm.

I shifted my stance, weight balanced, muscles relaxed.

"Don’t hold back," I said.

"You know I won’t," she replied with a smirk, her mana flaring.

The ground trembled slightly beneath us, reacting to the sheer density of our combined forces. It was subtle, but noticeable.

And then she moved.

Fast.

A surge of shadows erupted from her, a dozen tendrils lashing toward me with surgical precision. I bent space around myself at the last second, distorting my position ever so slightly, just enough that her attack twisted mid-air, thrown off-course. The tendrils snapped past me, missing by inches.

She didn’t stop.

A barrage of mana-infused strikes followed, each one faster than the last. I shifted, raising the gravity around her in a controlled pulse, making her every motion heavier, her attacks slower.

For a moment, it worked.

Then, with nothing but a sharp exhale, she shattered my spell, breaking free as if the increased weight had been nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

Annoying.

Shadows surged toward me again, relentless, and this time I had no choice but to freeze time—just for a fraction of a second.

Enough space to move.

I sidestepped, letting reality snap back into place as her attack crashed into the spot I had just occupied. The sheer force of it tore through the ground, sending shards of stone scattering.

"At this point, you’re going to force me to go all out," I said, rolling my shoulders, the familiar weight of mana pooling in my core.

Kali tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then do it."

She flicked her wrist, and her twin daggers materialized in her hands, spinning effortlessly between her fingers like they were extensions of herself. Deepdark clung to the blades, rippling unnaturally in the air around them.

Dagger Intent.

The sharp edge of her will condensed into pure lethality, the kind that didn’t just cut flesh—it severed intent, opportunity, and escape.

I exhaled. No more half-measures.

"Erebus," I called.

A rift tore open beside me, a sliver of dark space unraveling like the edge of a frayed tapestry. From within, my Lich emerged, skeletal frame gleaming in the dim light. His hollow sockets burned with an eerie red glow as he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Kali’s expression flickered, just for a moment. A tightness around the corners of her lips, an imperceptible stiffening of her stance.

Good. She wasn’t underestimating me anymore.

"Bone Armor," I commanded.

The crimson bones of a Blood Wyvern snaked around me, fusing into a protective exoskeleton, wrapping my arms and chest in curved, jagged plates. It wasn’t just armor; it was a fortress woven from death itself.

Then, I activated my White Star.

A surge of radiant light burned from my core, dodging mine and Erebus’s Deepdark.

In my hand, my sword glowed, not with simple mana, not even with aura.

Purelight.

Something that had long surpassed the constraints of mana, existing in a realm of its own.

"Still confident?" I asked, gripping my blade.

Kali pursed her lips. "You’re still a rank below me." She spun her daggers, the Deepdark clinging to them thickening like liquid smoke. "But let’s fight, shall we?"

And so, the spar between Rank 1 of the second years and Rank 1 of the third years began.