It was time for our private New Year's party at the Creighton estate, just me, Seraphina, Cecilia, and Rachel. It felt like an oasis, a momentary escape from the relentless demands of training and ambition.
The Creighton estate, draped in the subtle opulence of its marble floors and artful lighting, felt almost too vast for just the four of us. Yet, here we were, tucked away in one of the smaller, cozier living rooms, where the hearth crackled warmly and the soft hum of enchanted instruments played festive tunes.
I had missed Cecilia and Seraphina. They hadn't visited much during the two weeks of winter break, busy with their own pursuits. Yet now, seeing them again, I was both happy and… surprised.
They had improved.
'Luna,' I called to her silently, needing confirmation for what my instincts already told me.
"They have," Luna murmured in my mind, her voice tinged with approval. "You can't sense it the way I do, but their aura has shifted—sharpened. They've been pushing themselves."
And indeed, even without Luna's insight, I could tell. Both Seraphina and Cecilia had reached high Integration-rank, but it wasn't just their mana rank that had advanced. There was a newfound precision in their movements, a subtle but unmistakable confidence that only came from hard-earned growth.
We settled into the plush seats around the room, laughter and lighthearted banter filling the space as the four of us talked. Rachel, ever radiant, was nestled close to me, her golden hair catching the firelight. Seraphina, composed and quietly smiling, sipped from a cup of tea, while Cecilia leaned forward, a spark of mischief in her crimson gaze.
It felt… normal. For a fleeting moment, the weight of our world—the wars, the ambitions, the power struggles—seemed to fade.
Until Cecilia's tone shifted.
"Arthur," she said, her voice cutting through the chatter with a quiet intensity that drew all eyes to her. "I have something more serious to say to you."
The room stilled. Even Rachel, who often deflected tension with teasing remarks, grew silent.
I turned my gaze to Cecilia, her crimson eyes meeting mine unflinchingly. There was something resolute in her expression, a weight that hadn't been there before.
"Go on," I said softly.
Cecilia hesitated for only a heartbeat before speaking, her voice steady but carrying a depth of emotion I hadn't expected. "I've been thinking… a lot, actually. About us. About where we stand now, and where we're going."
She paused, glancing briefly at Seraphina and Rachel, as though drawing strength from their presence. "And I realized… I don't want to be left behind."
My brow furrowed slightly, but I stayed silent, letting her continue.
"You've always been ahead, Arthur," she said, her voice firmer now. "Not just in strength, but in how you move through the world. You never stop pushing, never stop climbing. And while that's one of the things I admire most about you, it also terrifies me."
Her hands clenched into fists, resting on her lap. "I've trained harder than I ever thought possible, pushed myself past limits I didn't even know I had. And yet… sometimes it feels like no matter how much I grow, you're always leagues ahead."
Rachel placed a comforting hand on Cecilia's arm, while Seraphina, ever composed, simply nodded, as if to say, 'I understand.'
Cecilia took a deep breath, her crimson eyes blazing with determination. "But I'm not going to stop. I'm not going to let that fear hold me back. I'll keep climbing, Arthur, no matter how high you go."
For a moment, there was silence. Then I smiled, a genuine, warm smile that I hoped conveyed everything words couldn't.
"I know you will," I said simply. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Cecilia. All of you are."
Her gaze softened, but the determination didn't fade. "Just… don't forget to look back once in a while," she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Some of us are chasing you with everything we've got."
I chuckled, the tension in the room easing as Rachel leaned into me with a playful grin. "Don't worry," I said, my voice light but sincere. "I see all of you. Every step of the way."
The warmth of the fire seemed to grow, wrapping around us as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But the weight of Cecilia's words lingered, a reminder of the unyielding bonds between us—and the relentless drive that fueled us all.
"I just find it more natural to take the brunt of everything," I said, my voice steady, but the weight of my honesty was clear. "I don't want any of you to get hurt."
"We feel the same, Arthur," Seraphina replied, her tone as composed as ever, but her icy blue eyes carried a rare flicker of warmth. "And we know we're too weak right now. But we'll catch up. One day, we won't just be girls you feel the need to protect—we'll be your equals, fighting beside you."
Her words struck something deep within me, and a small, genuine smile broke through. "I'd like that," I said simply. "So, tell me—how have you all been training?"
"Archmage Charlotte trained me," Cecilia announced, her crimson eyes flashing with pride. "I'm her disciple now."
That gave me pause. 'So Quinn used the favor after all,' I thought, the weight of the revelation settling in. In the novel, Quinn had always held onto the favor he had earned from Charlotte, the Zenith of Magic herself. But here, he had cashed it in—to make Cecilia her disciple.
It was a calculated move, of course. Quinn never did anything without purpose. But still, the implications of it stirred the currents of my thoughts.
Currently, there were only three Radiant-rankers in the world who had not yet peaked, their potential still climbing like stars refusing to settle. Magnus Draykar, Valen Ashbluff, and Charlotte.
Valen Ashbluff would be the first to ascend to mid Radiant-rank after achieving the elusive nine-circle magic. Charlotte would follow shortly after, her growth a relentless tide that few could hope to stem. The Tower of Magic might have been slightly behind the Creighton family in terms of magical knowledge and methodology, but Cecilia's Gift, Witchcraft, more than made up for it.
Rachel's Saintess Gift was unparalleled in light magic, a beacon of hope and healing that few in history could rival. But Cecilia's Witchcraft? It was something else entirely. Where Rachel's Gift specialized in one element, Cecilia's spread across the spectrum of mana, making her a prodigy of universal spellcasting.
"I suppose training under Charlotte is a small step toward closing the gap," I said, my tone teasing but laced with sincerity. "How's she treating you?"
Cecilia huffed, folding her arms but unable to hide the glimmer of pride in her eyes. "Let's just say she doesn't go easy on anyone. But that's exactly what I wanted."
"What about you, Sera?" I asked, turning my gaze to Seraphina, her calm demeanor unshaken even under the warmth of the flickering firelight.
"My father's been helping as much as he can when he's not tied up with the war," she said, her voice measured yet unwavering. "And, of course, I've been participating in the war myself. I can't claim to do something like defeat a low Ascendant-ranker at my current level, but…" Her words trailed off for a moment, her sapphire gaze steady as the ocean's depths. "I've gotten stronger."
"Of course you have," I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face. There was no doubt in my mind. Seraphina's determination was as steady as the mountain winds of Mount Hua.
"And what about you?" Cecilia cut in, leaning forward with a mischievous gleam in her crimson eyes. "Unlike Rachel, we didn't get to spend much time with you over the break. How far ahead have you gotten?"
I rubbed the back of my head, feigning modesty. "Well, I'm still a bit away from mid Ascendant-rank," I said. "I'll likely reach it while fighting in the war after the mid-years."
"But how strong are you really?" Seraphina pressed, her voice softer but no less curious. Beside her, Rachel's interest sharpened, her gaze unwavering as her golden hair caught the glow of the room.
"Yes," Rachel chimed in. "We know you can skip levels. So, how strong are you?"
I paused, leaning back as I let their questions hang in the air. How strong was I now? It wasn't an easy thing to measure, especially when I'd spent so much of my life striving to outrun even my own expectations.
"Remember Vaelor?" I asked after a moment, breaking the silence. "The vampire I faced before the war began?"
They nodded, their expressions tightening as they recalled the battle. Vaelor's blood magic and his Spear Heart had been a nightmare to contend with.
"Back then," I said, my voice growing quieter, "I was at high Integration-rank, and it took everything I had—every ounce of strength and strategy—to barely eke out a win."
The memory was a vivid one. I'd been pushed to the very edge of my limits, each strike of his spear a death sentence narrowly evaded. I could still feel the ache of muscles long since healed, the ghost of exhaustion that had seeped into my bones after the fight.
"But now?" I mused, my thoughts turning inward as I imagined that same battle. Vaelor's blood-and-night astral energy surged, his spear carving through the air with the precision of a master. I saw myself stepping forward to meet him, my blade clashing against his. Only this time, I didn't falter. My strikes were cleaner, stronger, more precise.
The phantom Vaelor in my mind wavered under the weight of my strength, his spear splintering against the force of my Grade 5 art. His night energy dissipated like mist under the morning sun. It wasn't even a contest.
"Now," I said, my tone resolute as I met their gazes, "I'd wipe the floor with him."
The words hung in the air, heavy with certainty. There was no bravado in my voice, no unnecessary pride—just an unshakable truth. Against Vaelor, even a Grade 6 art now would be overkill.
Seraphina's lips curved ever so slightly in a rare smile, while Cecilia leaned back with a knowing smirk. Rachel, as ever, simply studied me, her analytical mind already working to measure the gap between us and how she might close it.
It was moments like these that reminded me: while I might stand ahead, the gap would not remain forever. These three would catch up, each in their own way. And when they did, the world wouldn't know what hit it.