The Extra's Rise-Chapter 544: Gold-Rank Guild (3)

The Fuller Method had a reputation that could walk into a room before its name was even spoken. It was the blueprint. The go-to. The gold standard for ascending into seven-circle magic and reaching the vaunted Ascendant-rank, where mages stopped worrying about basic spell formations and started worrying about existential threats and continental politics.

But was it the best?

That depended on whether you were the kind of person satisfied with reliable progress or needed to push beyond conventional limitations entirely.

The Fuller Method was, in essence, the everyman’s path to ascension. It worked for most people the way established roads work for travelers—reliable, predictable, well-maintained. It was standardized, safe, and thoroughly tested across generations of mages. That wasn’t a flaw. It was by design. It gave people a structured path to power, a stable framework for circle development. No wild variables. No risky improvisations.

But that very simplicity was its ceiling.

Because the world didn’t end at Ascendant-rank. Above it loomed the realms of the Immortal-rank and the Radiant-rank, where conventional magical theory became more suggestion than law. Talents capable of reaching those heights would find the Fuller Method something akin to using basic training wheels—functional, but ultimately limiting for those with greater potential.

Which is where the Astareus Method came in. Developed by the Creighton family, who were widely regarded as the most powerful spellcasting clan not currently governing their own magical territory, it was a method forged not just in magical theory, but in generations of practical innovation. It was complex, specialized, and highly customizable. It didn’t provide hand-holding—it offered tools and expected mastery through personal understanding.

Most people couldn’t even begin it. But if you could? You didn’t just climb the established path. You carved your own route through uncharted territory.

And then there was Charlotte. Who, being Charlotte, had taken one look at the vast, intricate legacy of spellcasting theory and decided she could do better.

"I created this method for seven-circle spellcasting," she said, with the quiet confidence of someone unveiling revolutionary research. "I call it the Alaric Method."

She smiled with genuine pride. I waited for her to continue, sensing there was more to this revelation.

"You’re exceptional, Arthur. And I don’t say that lightly. Your magical development has been remarkable, even by prodigy standards."

"Thank you," I said, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned about what she was building toward.

"So don’t master just the Alaric Method. And since you’re already learning Astareus from the Creightons—" she gave me a knowing look "—don’t limit yourself to either one individually."

I raised an eyebrow. Of course she knew about my connection to Rachel and her family’s teachings.

"Master both," she continued, as if it were the most natural progression in the world. "Then synthesize them. Merge their principles. Create your own method—one that doesn’t just adapt to your magical signature, but becomes an extension of your fundamental understanding of magic itself."

She leaned forward, her jade eyes bright with intellectual excitement.

"Then expand that framework beyond seven circles. Eight circles. Nine circles. Layer upon layer of innovation. Until eventually you won’t even need traditional circle structures anymore. You’ll develop something entirely new—something beyond our current understanding of magical theory. A complete paradigm shift. You have the talent for it."

The terrifying part? I believed her assessment was accurate.

The prospect was both exhilarating and daunting. Creating my own magical method would require not just mastering existing techniques, but understanding them deeply enough to transcend their limitations. It would be years of intensive study and experimentation, with no guarantee of success.

But the potential rewards...

"I’m willing to attempt it," I said finally. "The challenge appeals to me, and the strategic advantages would be significant."

Charlotte’s smile widened. "Excellent. I’ll begin preparing the theoretical materials for the Alaric Method. Between that and your Astareus training with the Creightons, you’ll have access to both revolutionary approaches."

She paused, then continued with a more serious expression. "This will be demanding, Arthur. More than you might realize. But I believe you’re capable of achieving something unprecedented."

I nodded, then considered the broader implications of what we were discussing. "Actually, Charlotte, I have a proposal that might benefit our aetherite research significantly."

"Oh?"

"What if we brought the Creighton family into the aetherite collaboration? Their expertise in magical theory and practical applications would be invaluable, and combining the Tower’s resources with their capabilities could accelerate development considerably. Plus, their alchemical knowledge could help with refining and processing techniques."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

’Uh oh,’ Luna’s voice echoed in my mind with genuine alarm.

Charlotte’s expression shifted from enthusiastic collaboration to something considerably more dangerous. Her jade eyes narrowed, and I suddenly remembered that she wasn’t just a brilliant researcher—she was one of the most powerful mages on the continent, and I had just suggested sharing exclusive access to the most revolutionary magical resource in history with her greatest rivals.

___________________________________

Charlotte stared at the closed door for several long minutes after Arthur’s departure, her magical aura gradually settling back to normal levels. The suggestion to share aetherite with the Creightons still rankled, but as her initial anger faded, she found herself thinking about the young man who had just left her office.

Arthur Nightingale. Even his name had become something of a legend already.

She remembered the first time she’d seen him, at a Tower conference three years ago. His paper had broken her out of her boredom.

She’d made him her disciple that day, one of the few decisions in her career that she’d never questioned.

Then came the incident with her sister.

Charlotte’s expression darkened as she remembered that terrible day. Evelyn, her twin sister, who had somehow become the Pope of the Order of the Fallen Flame—humanity’s greatest enemy. Evelyn, who had led an assault on the Tower itself to reclaim her daughter Rose.

By all rights, that attack should have succeeded. The Order’s forces had been overwhelming, their magical capabilities devastating. Charlotte herself had been barely holding the Tower’s defenses together when everything changed.

Arthur had been there. Weak by any reasonable standard—barely capable of fifth-circle magic at the time. He should have been utterly irrelevant.

Instead, somehow, he had turned the tide. The details remained unclear even now. Arthur’s explanations had been vague, deflecting attention from his role in the victory. But Charlotte knew better than most that effects had causes, and the effect had been decisive victory against impossible odds.

It was one of many mysteries surrounding Arthur Nightingale. His rapid advancement, his uncanny strategic insights, his ability to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right moment—none of it followed normal patterns.

Charlotte had long suspected that Arthur was hiding something significant about his background or capabilities. The question was whether that secret was dangerous to her interests or merely inconvenient to his privacy.

Given his track record, she was inclined to assume the latter.

She pulled out a sheet of official Tower stationary and began drafting a formal response to his proposal. The aetherite research would remain under Tower control, as would Arthur’s training in the Alaric Method. But the broader collaboration on lunar operations could proceed as originally discussed.

As for his suggestion about the Creightons...

Charlotte’s pen paused over the paper as she considered the implications more carefully. The Tower of Magic and the Creighton family were indeed rivals—had been for generations. Their approaches to magical theory were fundamentally different, their political philosophies incompatible, their institutional pride irreconcilable.

But perhaps that rivalry was exactly why she should be concerned about Arthur’s growing connections to both families.

She set down her pen and walked to the window, looking out over Avalon City’s sprawling magical districts. Arthur was already learning the Astareus Method from the Creightons—through his relationship with Rachel, no doubt. Now he wanted to master the Alaric Method as well. And he was proposing collaboration on aetherite research.

Was this simply naive optimism, or was Arthur Nightingale positioning himself as a bridge between the two most powerful magical institutions on the continent?

Charlotte smiled slowly as the possibilities took shape in her mind.

Perhaps young Arthur was more politically astute than she’d given him credit for. Perhaps his "naive" suggestion contained more wisdom than she’d initially recognized.

The Tower of Magic and the Creighton family were indeed bitter rivals. But they were also the two most advanced magical research organizations in the world.

And Arthur Nightingale was quickly becoming indispensable to both of them.