Fuller Method I

Seven-circle magic stood on a plane far beyond six-circle magic, surpassing it in every conceivable way. The leap in power was staggering—where six-circle spells could rival the strength of resonating enhanced aura, seven-circle spells outright surpassed astral energy.

This enormous jump in capability was made possible by the Fuller method. Unlike traditional spellcasting, the Fuller method revolved around stacking mana circles in a carefully interlinked system. The resulting network compressed mana particles so densely that the energy began to mimic astral energy in form and potency.

Was it straightforward? Hardly.

Much like forming a Sword Heart served as a gateway to Ascendant-rank for swordsmen, mastering seven-circle magic required an equivalent breakthrough in understanding and practice. Achieving this was no small feat—it demanded profound study and enlightenment. Both paths could lead to Ascendant-rank, but the route of spellcasting came with an academic mountain to climb.

Mana circles had long been the cornerstone of human spellcasting, offering a systematic and efficient framework. However, this framework hit a hard limit at six circles. Attempts to add more invariably crumbled under the strain of complexity and inefficiency—until the Fuller method emerged to rewrite the rules.

The method introduced an entirely new dimension to magical theory, akin to the leap from classical physics to quantum mechanics. It wasn't just an enhancement of existing knowledge but a fundamental extension that demanded a fresh way of thinking.

Naturally, such advanced knowledge wasn't easy to come by. The Creighton estate, a pinnacle of spellcasting expertise, housed an extensive collection of texts on seven-circle magic, including theoretical foundations and techniques unavailable anywhere else—not even on the Internet.

Alastor, ever the mentor, had offered to guide me in refining my six-circle spellcasting while I immersed myself in the daunting study of seven-circle magic. His assistance would only go so far, though. Understanding the Fuller method required personal effort and insight; it wasn't something anyone could hand to you. It was a path I'd have to tread largely on my own, but with Alastor's guidance and the estate's unparalleled resources, I was better equipped than most to take the first steps.

"I wanted to ask you something, Arthur," Luna's voice murmured in my mind, her tone curious. "Why are you learning this when you have me?"

Her question wasn't unreasonable. My relative neglect of spellcasting wasn't solely due to a lack of resources—it was also because Luna, as a qilin, could handle most magical tasks with an ease that outstripped even the most accomplished human mages. Her presence made magic seem almost redundant for me. Still, my pursuit of seven-circle magic served a purpose.

"Reaching seven-circle as a spellcaster at Ascendant-rank will still strengthen me," I explained mentally. "It'll refine the spellforms I've already created. Besides, I can't always have you out in the open. Your existence has to stay hidden for now."

Luna hummed her agreement, retreating back into the recesses of my mind. As a qilin, her innate magic operated on principles far removed from human systems, so her guidance in this specific area was limited. It was a rare challenge I'd have to face without her.

Across from me, Rachel settled into a chair, her golden hair catching the soft glow of the library's enchanted lamps. She placed a tome on the table, its cover embossed with arcane symbols, and offered me a smile. Then, without a word, she dove into its pages, her sapphire eyes scanning the text with the focused intensity of someone born to learn.

Rachel wasn't just months away from reaching the Wall—she was also a prodigy in the realm of spellcasting. She had already polished her six-circle magic to perfection and was now studying seven-circle theory in anticipation of the climb. 

Having her as a study partner sounded promising—at least, it had at first.

But Rachel wasn't just talented. She was an academic juggernaut. Her valedictorian status at Mythos Academy wasn't just a product of hard work; it was the result of her uncanny ability to annihilate any academic challenge. Perfect scores in every exam, every assignment—she didn't merely meet expectations; she shattered them.

And here I was, plodding my way through my first book on the Fuller method, while Rachel had already breezed through two and was engrossed in a third. The sheer gap in our progress was enough to make my head spin.

I glanced at her across the table, watching her flip a page with an air of serene confidence. It was clear that catching up to her, let alone surpassing her, was an impossible dream. Still, there was something comforting about her presence. Even if I lagged behind, her focus and brilliance made the long hours in the library a little less daunting. 

And perhaps, just perhaps, her quiet companionship would be enough to push me forward.

'Michael Fuller was a genius, wasn't he?' I mused, running a hand through my hair in mild exasperation. The man wasn't just a pioneer—he was a revolutionary. Michael Fuller, the world's first seven-circle mage, had single-handedly reshaped the landscape of magic, expanding the existing system by creating what was now known as the Fuller method.

The world in his time had been a different place. Back then, spellcasters were on the brink of obsolescence. Warriors had surged ahead, breaking past the Wall through the concept of Heart—a breakthrough that granted them the enlightenment needed to reach Ascendant-rank and harness astral energy. This leap catapulted them to a plane of power spellcasters couldn't even dream of matching. 

Magic, once a revered discipline, was in decline. Established spellcasters actively discouraged others from pursuing the path, convinced that breaking beyond six-circle magic was an insurmountable barrier. Spellcasting was dying, a relic destined to fade into history.

And then came Fuller.

He didn't just challenge the status quo; he obliterated it. By devising the Fuller method, he forged a path to seven-circle magic, unlocking potential no one had thought possible. Overnight, he transformed the perception of magic from a dwindling art to a field brimming with untapped promise. His work laid the groundwork not just for seven-circle magic but also for the future development of eight-circle spells—and even had a hand, albeit a smaller one, in the evolution of nine-circle magic.

The sheer brilliance of his discoveries was daunting. Even fifteen centuries later, here I was, struggling to fully grasp the concepts Fuller had unearthed. His laws were as intricate as they were revolutionary, each layer of understanding revealing more depth than the last.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the page in front of me as if glaring at it hard enough would make the symbols rearrange themselves into something comprehensible. No such luck. The dense script of the Fuller Method seemed to taunt me, daring me to make sense of its maddening complexity. My head was beginning to ache.

"Seriously, this is insane," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Who builds a system where every solution spawns five more problems?"

Across the table, Rachel glanced up from her book, her sapphire eyes glinting with barely concealed amusement. She had already breezed through the section I was struggling with, of course. Her smugness was subtle but unmistakable, a small curve at the corner of her lips that made me want to both admire her and throw the book across the room.

"He wasn't insane, Arthur," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "He just understood the elegance of complexity. Every circle, every resonance—it's all part of a grand design. You're overcomplicating it."

I blinked at her, deadpan. "Overcomplicating it? Rachel, this equation right here—" I jabbed my finger at the page "—is a nightmare of nonlinear variables, time-dependent constraints, and mana compression coefficients that might as well be written in an alien language. Overthinking is the only way to survive this mess."

She smirked, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. "That's because you're trying to solve it like it's a math problem. Fuller wasn't building a problem—he was composing a symphony. Each circle isn't just a piece—it's part of the whole melody. You have to stop looking at it like a pile of numbers and start feeling the rhythm."

I snorted. "Rhythm. Great. So now I have to be a musician on top of everything else? Maybe I should grab a lute and serenade the equations into submission."

Rachel laughed, soft and warm, and I couldn't help but smile. She scooted closer, sliding her chair beside mine. Her confidence was palpable, radiating off her like the glow of her light magic. She pulled my book toward her, her slender fingers gliding across the page with ease.

"Here," she said, pointing to a rune that had been the bane of my existence for the past hour. "This is where you're going wrong. You're treating the seventh circle like it's just aligning with the sixth, but it's not that simple. It's harmonizing with all the previous circles at once. Think of it like... the conductor of an orchestra. It doesn't just manage one section—it ensures the entire symphony works together."

I frowned, leaning in to examine the rune. "You're telling me this tiny thing is somehow refereeing three circles at once?"

"Exactly," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "That's why it works. Fuller designed it to stabilize the entire structure, not just one piece. Every circle feeds into the others, creating a resonance that balances the whole."

I stared at the page, then at her. "So you're saying Fuller wasn't just a genius—he was an actual maniac. This is practically overengineering for the sake of it."

Rachel grinned, her pride in the subject shining through. "Call it what you want, but it works. And you can't tell me you're not impressed."

"Impressed? Sure. Also wondering if Fuller just hated anyone trying to follow in his footsteps." I sighed, shaking my head. "Fine. Show me how to rewrite this rune equation without accidentally summoning an astral singularity."

She laughed again, leaning even closer. "Alright, start with the eigenstates for circles four through six. Once you see how they connect, the seventh circle practically builds itself."

I groaned but nodded, following her lead as she explained. The way she talked about it, so confident and assured, made it seem almost simple. Almost. Her passion for the subject was infectious, though, and for the first time, the madness of the Fuller Method felt... manageable.

"Maybe you're right," I said after a while, my tone lighter. "Maybe Fuller wasn't completely insane. Just mostly insane."

Rachel nudged me with her elbow, smirking. "Careful, Arthur. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you're enjoying this."

I smirked back. "Don't push your luck. One catastrophe at a time, Rachel."