The Extra's Rise

The next morning, training began.

Cecilia was refining her mastery over five-circle magic, her emerald eyes focused as she layered complex formations with terrifying ease. Rose, ever the disciplined fighter, was working on four-circle magic, her approach precise and controlled.

And me?

I was alone in studying six-circle magic theory.

Charlotte stood in front of me, watching with that sharp, amused glint in her eyes—the one that always meant I was about to suffer.

"As you know," she began, pacing slightly, "spellcasting within the magic circle system has its variations, but it's nowhere near as diverse as martial arts. At its core, a spellcaster's strength depends on four factors: mana weaving, spell potency, multicasting capability, and casting speed."

I nodded, absorbing the information.

"Different spellcasting methods can improve these factors," she continued, "but not by a lot. The real difference between mages comes from how they utilize their talents."

Then she smiled. And not the good kind of smile.

"The method I'll be teaching you," she said, "relies on something called signature casting. It's a technique that only mages with an advanced Mind Aspect can pull off."

I frowned. "Signature casting?"

Charlotte raised a hand, and mana gathered instantly.

"Most mages form their spell circles manually before activation," she explained, crafting a perfect six-circle array in midair. "Layer by layer. Rune by rune."

I watched closely as the glowing magic hummed before her.

"But signature casting," she continued, "lets you compress an entire spell into a stored form inside your mana flow—engraving it like an instinctive pattern. Instead of reconstructing the circle every time, you call upon the stored signature instantly."

With a flick of her fingers, the entire six-circle array collapsed inward, shrinking into a single compressed rune hovering above her palm.

My eyes widened slightly.

"Instead of building a new spell structure every time you cast," Charlotte said, her voice edged with amusement, "you remember it."

I immediately saw the advantage.

"Speed."

Six-circle magic was notoriously slow to cast. But with signature casting, I could store my most-used spells and deploy them instantly.

"But," Charlotte added, waving her hand and dispersing the formation, "this isn't something you can just pick up in a day. You won't be able to cast six-circle magic yet, but you can start engraving signatures."

I nodded. "Understood."

She smirked. "Good. Then start by using Lucent Harmony."

I blinked.

My Gift.

Unlike normal spells, Lucent Harmony wasn't something I constructed. It was an innate ability woven into my very being—an extension of who I was.

Which meant—

"You need to apply the principles of signature casting to your Gift," Charlotte confirmed, watching my expression shift. "You already have a natural affinity for stabilizing and harmonizing mana. This method will push that even further."

I exhaled slowly, then nodded.

"Alright."

I closed my eyes, tapping into Lucent Harmony.

The air around me shifted as light mana flowed through my core, resonating with an almost natural frequency. Normally, when I used my Gift, it spread outward—stabilizing external mana, enhancing other spells, and allowing adaptive casting.

But now—

I had to compress it.

Not release. Not expand.

Condense.

Charlotte spoke softly. "Don't force the resonance outward. Pull it inward. Let your mana imprint it like an internal signature."

I focused.

The usual glow of Lucent Harmony appeared around me, but instead of letting it expand into its normal passive field, I tried to fold it back into myself.

The first attempt failed instantly.

The natural resonance of my Gift resisted—it wanted to spread, to interact, to stabilize the external world. But I needed to make it internal.

I tried again.

And again.

And again.

Hours passed as I continuously shaped, compressed, and failed.

But each failure brought me closer.

Finally, after what felt like dozens of attempts, something clicked.

The resonance didn't just collapse—it shifted. Instead of dispersing into the environment, it settled within my mana flow, partially imprinting itself as a signature.

It wasn't perfect.

It wasn't ready.

But the foundation was there.

Charlotte smiled, clearly pleased. "Not bad," she admitted. "At this rate, you'll have a fully engraved signature by the time you complete the first stage of the Integration process."

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "That's the goal."

Charlotte stretched, stepping back. "That's enough for today. Go rest."

I nodded, stepping away.

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I wasn't there yet.

But I was on my way.

"Arthur."

Charlotte's voice cut through the air, her sharp gaze pinning me in place.

I stopped mid-step, turning back to meet her narrowed eyes.

"Yes?" I asked, already sensing a lecture coming.

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if my mere existence was giving her a migraine. "Don't rush."

I blinked. "Rush?"

"I can feel it," she said, folding her arms. "That need to push yourself forward. That urge to reach Integration-rank as soon as possible." She exhaled, shaking her head. "Because Lucifer is going to reach it soon, isn't he?"

I didn't respond. I didn't have to. We both knew the answer.

Charlotte watched me for a moment, then sighed again, softer this time. "Arthur, the Integration process isn't just another rank-up. It's different. It's special. And it's dangerous if you force it before you're ready."

I nodded, bowing slightly. "I understand."

Her lips pressed together. She didn't look convinced. "Make sure you do," she muttered.

I left the training hall, her words echoing in my mind.

Don't rush.

She was right, of course.

People with overwhelming talent—Lucifer, Cecilia, Ian, the others in Class 1-A—could afford to force advancement, pushing themselves into Integration before their souls were fully prepared. But the cost?

A sacrifice of their Soul Aspect—the very foundation of their future growth.

Lucifer had already made that mistake once. He had forced his breakthrough to White-rank too early, burning through his potential. The result? It had taken him nearly a year just to stabilize enough to begin the Integration process. He was still powerful, yes, but if he had waited, he could have been even stronger.

I wasn't about to make the same mistake.

Back on the hundredth floor, I found Cecilia and Rose in the lounge, their training robes still slightly rumpled from the day's exercises. The cityscape of Avalon sprawled beyond the glass walls, neon lights flickering like distant stars.

Rose sat upright, reading through a thick magical codex, her red ponytail swaying slightly as she turned the page. Cecilia, on the other hand, was sprawled across the couch in the most unnecessarily elegant way possible, sipping a fruit drink with a bemused expression.

"Finally done with your secret meeting with Charlotte?" Cecilia asked, tilting her head. "She didn't scold you too harshly, did she?"

"She told me not to rush my Integration," I said, sitting across from them.

Cecilia's smile turned knowing. "Ahh. The old 'patience is a virtue' speech?" She sipped her drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. "She's right, you know. You're so talented, Arthur. It would be a shame if you burned yourself out trying to keep up with someone else."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're being surprisingly supportive."

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "What can I say? I like my men ambitious, but not self-destructive."

Rose coughed, loudly and pointedly, without looking up from her book.

I sighed. "So, how was your training today?"

"Painful," Rose muttered. "But productive. I managed to refine my control over illusions. I can distort spell patterns on command now instead of by accident."

"That's terrifying," I said honestly.

Her lips quirked slightly. "It is."

Cecilia stretched, her golden braid sliding over her shoulder. "As for me? I've been perfecting multi-layered illusions. I can now stack three simultaneous environments, each one reinforced against detection. Soon, I'll be able to make an entire city think they're living in a completely different world if I feel like it."

"That's… also terrifying."

She beamed. "I know, right?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "Between the two of you, I'm beginning to fear for my sanity."

"Oh, Arthur," Cecilia purred, shifting closer, her emerald eyes practically sparkling. "You should fear for your sanity. Being surrounded by two beautiful, powerful women? Must be so overwhelming for you."

Rose sighed. "Here we go."

I ignored her, eyeing Cecilia carefully. Once, she would have said something like that and meant it—not the compliment, but the idea of toying with me. The old Cecilia had seen people as playthings, amusements to be discarded when she got bored.

But now?

Her teasing was still there, still sharp as ever, but it was… different.

There was affection behind it now.

She flirted with me not because she was testing me, not because she wanted to see if I would dance to her tune, but because she genuinely liked me.

She had changed.

She wasn't treating me like a toy. She was treating me like Arthur.

And that was enough to make me smile.

Cecilia must have noticed, because she arched a brow. "Something on your mind?"

I shook my head. "Just thinking."

"About how stunning I am?" she guessed, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, let's go with that."

Cecilia laughed, leaning back against the couch, her expression softer now. "Good answer."

Rose closed her book with a thud, standing up. "If you two are done being ridiculous, I'm heading to the training hall." She glanced at me. "You coming?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Cecilia made a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine, go be responsible. I'll be here, waiting for my next chance to torment you."

I smirked. "I'm sure you will."

Cecilia had moved past her old way of seeing people as tools, at least for me.