The Extra's Rise
Chapter 653 - 653: A Father's Lesson (2)

Arthur didn't bother with pretense or warming up. He understood exactly what kind of test this was, and half-measures would only result in a more thorough beating. His sword materialized in his hand as he shot upward in a burst of movement, astral energy immediately coating the blade in a brilliant azure sheath.

Grade 5 Art: Tempest Dance Technique.

His blade began to move in the distinctive flowing patterns of the Tempest Dance, each stroke building upon the previous one as astral energy accumulated around the weapon like a gathering storm.

Alastor watched with the patient attention of someone observing a particularly interesting experiment. He didn't move, didn't even shift his stance. He simply raised his left hand slightly, and the mana in front of him condensed into an invisible barrier.

Arthur's astral blade, carrying enough force to cleave through reinforced steel, met that barrier and stopped dead. The impact sent shockwaves through the training ground, but Alastor's expression didn't even flicker.

'This is the power of a Radiant-ranker,' Arthur thought grimly as he felt the overwhelming resistance against his weapon. 'The ability to stop an astral blade with nothing but concentrated will.'

He didn't let the disappointment slow him down. Instead, Arthur used his gravity magic to maintain perfect balance as he continued the Tempest Dance Technique, pouring more astral energy into each successive movement. The technique had seven distinct forms, and Arthur had achieved zenith realm mastery in all of them—a level of proficiency that allowed for combinations and transitions that lesser practitioners could never attempt.

The astral energy around his blade continued to balloon outward, growing denser and more volatile with each passing second. The air itself began to thrum with barely contained power as Arthur reached the crescendo of the Grade 5 art.

Then, without warning, he shifted.

The flowing movements of Tempest Dance suddenly crystallized into something entirely different—sharper, more focused, infinitely more dangerous. Arthur's astral energy didn't dissipate; instead, it compressed and layered, forming two distinct sheaths around his blade. Between those layers, spots of pure Deepdark energy flickered like dying stars.

Second movement of Grade 6 Art: Hollow Eclipse.

The technique was a seamless evolution from Tempest Dance, something only possible with the zenith realm mastery Arthur had achieved. The combination of Grade 5 and Grade 6 arts should have been impossible for someone of his rank, but Arthur had never been bound by conventional limitations.

His blade descended toward Alastor with enough force to split mountains.

"Ho," Alastor said, his voice carrying a note of genuine interest. He extended his right hand this time, and eight perfect circles of magical formulae appeared in the air before him. The construct was beautiful in its complexity—a work of art that demonstrated the kind of magical mastery that came only from decades of study and practice.

The eight-circle spell met Arthur's Hollow Eclipse head-on and completely dismantled it. The layered astral energy dispersed like morning mist, the Deepdark fragments scattered harmlessly, and Arthur found himself pushed backward by a wall of pure magical force.

"You've gotten strong," Alastor said simply, though his plain words concealed genuine astonishment. A nine-circle mage—one of four individuals to achieve that level in the world—had been forced to raise his hand against a mid-Ascendant ranker. Arthur's talent was beyond exceptional; it was approaching the realm of the miraculous.

Arthur gritted his teeth as he fought against the pressure of Alastor's mana, his feet skidding across the training ground's reinforced surface. But instead of retreating further, he planted himself firmly and began weaving spell formulae with both hands.

Three seven-circle spells. Simultaneously.

Alastor's eyes widened in shock as he observed the casting process. This wasn't the traditional Astareus method of spell construction that had dominated magical theory for centuries. The formulae were being built using an entirely different framework—one that was not only unfamiliar but demonstrably superior in its efficiency and power output.

The first spell was a massive force projection, designed to overwhelm defenses through sheer kinetic energy. The second was a space-distortion effect that would make dodging nearly impossible. The third was a binding spell that would activate the moment the target tried to counter-attack.

It was a combination that should have required three separate mages to execute properly, and Arthur was managing it alone with a casting speed that defied conventional understanding.

Alastor's grin widened as he unraveled the mana structure around all three spells and dismantled them with casual efficiency. 'Incredible. The boy isn't just powerful—he's revolutionizing magical theory in real time.'

But Arthur wasn't finished. Even as his spells dissolved, he was already moving, cutting the distance between them with a burst of enhanced speed. His sword gleamed with a new kind of energy—not the dark astral power he'd been using, but something infinitely brighter.

Purelight. The opposing force to Deepdark, equally rare and infinitely more difficult to control.

First movement of Grade 6 Art: God Flash.

The technique lived up to its name. Arthur's blade moved faster than thought, leaving a trail of brilliant white light that seared afterimages into the air. It was an attack designed to be unavoidable, to strike faster than opponents could react.

Alastor blocked it anyway.

His hand moved with the kind of supernatural precision that came from decades of combat experience, intercepting Arthur's blade at exactly the right angle to deflect rather than absorb the full impact. Sparks of Purelight scattered across the training ground like fallen stars.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Alastor murmured, his grin widening further.

That was when the shadows began to move.

Erebus, Arthur's bonded Lich, had been waiting for the perfect moment to act. Now, as Alastor's attention was focused on Arthur's frontal assault, the undead mage opened his Domain.

Necropolis of Forgotten Wisdom.

Reality twisted. The training ground's familiar features faded, replaced by an endless expanse of ancient ruins and floating tomes. Spectral energies swirled through the air, and the very atmosphere grew heavy with accumulated knowledge and barely restrained necromantic power. It was a false Domain, one created from the power of a supernatural Gift, but it was remarkably effective nonetheless.

Alastor's Gift of Sage's Eyes automatically activated, dissecting the Domain's structure and analyzing its capabilities. The spell work was impressive, showing a level of sophistication that spoke to both Erebus's ancient knowledge and Arthur's growing understanding of advanced magical theory.

Then Alastor crushed it.

Not with any particular technique or counter-spell, but simply by exerting his will. The Necropolis shattered like glass, its fragments dissolving back into ordinary mana as Alastor's superior magical authority reasserted the natural order.

Arthur used the moment of Domain collapse to close the remaining distance. His sword vanished, replaced by bare fists as he shifted to close-quarters combat. His knuckles touched Alastor's chest with the precision of a surgeon and the force of a battering ram.

Sixth movement of Grade 5 CQC Art: Zero-Inch Punch.

The technique was designed to deliver maximum force at minimum distance, transferring magical energy directly through the target's defenses. Arthur's fist carried enough power to shatter stone, compressed into an impact area smaller than a coin.

Alastor absorbed the blow with nothing more than a thin layer of protective mana around his chest. Even so, he felt the substantial force behind the attack. 'Powerful indeed.'

But Arthur wasn't done. Even as his punch connected, dark energy began to unfurl from his back. Two wings materialized—not the traditional single-element constructs that most mages managed, but something far more complex.

Alastor's eyes widened once again as he recognized what he was seeing.

Wings of Deepdark and Purelight. The opposing energies weren't fully combined—that would have been beyond even Arthur's considerable abilities—but they were balanced in a way that created something entirely new. It was a modification of a Divine Miracle, one of the legendary techniques that existed more in theory than practice.

Wings of Eclipse.

Dark feathers spread across the training ground, each one imbued with space mana and enhanced by the sensing power of Seraphim's Embrace. They moved with their own intelligence, creating a three-dimensional web of sensors and mini warp gates.

Alastor's Sage's Eyes worked overtime, dissecting the mana composition and power structure of Arthur's creation. The boy had taken multiple high-level techniques and woven them together into something that transcended the sum of its parts. It was the kind of innovation that appeared perhaps once in a generation.

'Arthur is strong,' Alastor thought with genuine pride and just a touch of concern. 'Ridiculously strong. At this rate, he'll surpass me soon enough.'

"You did well," Alastor said aloud, his voice carrying warmth and approval.

Then he moved.

The distance between them vanished in a single step—not teleportation, but just reality warping abilities that came with being a Radiant-ranker. Arthur's enhanced reflexes, his precognitive abilities, his combat experience—none of it mattered.

Alastor's palm met Arthur's face with the measured force of someone who knew exactly how much pressure to apply. Despite the protection of the Ancient-grade armor, despite Arthur's considerable defensive abilities, the impact was overwhelming.

Arthur hit the training ground hard enough to leave a crater, his consciousness scattered like leaves in a hurricane. The magnificent Wings of Eclipse dissolved into motes of fading light, and silence settled over the training area.

Alastor looked down at the unconscious young man and allowed his expression to soften into something approaching paternal affection.

"Lesson learned, I hope," he murmured. "Now then, let's see about having a proper conversation about my daughter's... hobbies."

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