The Extra's Rise-Chapter 116: Nimran (11)

After lunch, I found Seraphina already seated at a corner table in the lobby. She was surrounded by a tidy arrangement of notes, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the soft light filtering through the tall windows. Without looking up, she gestured for me to join her. Ever efficient, she had clearly been working while waiting for me.

"Our topic is enlightenment," she began, her tone calm and direct as always. She barely paused to glance at me as I pulled out my notebook and sat across from her. Her ice-blue eyes scanned her notes with precision, as though she was already piecing together the entire presentation in her mind.

I nodded, settling into my seat. "Enlightenment," I repeated. "Broad topic, but foundational."

"Precisely," she said, her voice measured. "It isn’t just an abstract concept. It’s the key to ascension."

She wasn’t wrong. Enlightenment wasn’t something you could grasp through sheer force of will or endless hours of study. It was elusive, more like intuition given form. It came when it was ready, not when you were. And in our world, it wasn’t just a philosophical idea—it was a requirement. Breaking past the Wall to ranks like Ascendant or Immortal wasn’t a matter of brute force but of breaking through mental and spiritual barriers, of understanding something so deeply it transformed you.

I leaned back slightly, flipping open my notebook. The word enlightenment seemed to glare back at me. "It’s that moment when everything clicks," I said thoughtfully. "Like… like seeing a puzzle rearrange itself into the solution."

Seraphina finally looked at me, her expression neutral but attentive. "Have you experienced that?"

The question hung in the air. My mind flicked back to the Basilisk Heart and the storm of revelations it had unleashed. The way dark mana had unfolded in my mind, like a book I had been struggling to read suddenly translating itself into perfect clarity. But I couldn’t tell her any of that.

"Sort of," I replied carefully. "Not on the grand scale of breaking past the Wall or anything. Just small epiphanies that make you see things differently."

She nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than usual before returning to her notes. "Even small epiphanies can lead to great strides," she said. "They build on each other."

For a moment, we worked in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of papers and the soft hum of the library’s climate control system. I glanced at her notes and saw that she had already drafted an outline. Trust Seraphina to be leagues ahead before we even started.

As we discussed the presentation, I couldn’t help but notice the sharp contrast between us. Seraphina approached enlightenment like a scholar, methodical and precise, while my understanding of it was messier, born from trial, error, and the occasional cosmic shove in the right direction. But we found common ground, piecing together an argument that blended both perspectives.

By the time we were done, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the library. As I packed up my things, Seraphina glanced at me, her expression as composed as ever.

"Enlightenment is a rare thing," she said. "But you seem to have a knack for it, even if you don’t realize it."

I raised an eyebrow. "That your way of saying I’m lucky?"

"Lucky?" she repeated, her lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smile. "Hardly. Just… keep thinking, Arthur."

She left before I could respond, her silver hair catching the last light of the sun. I watched her go, her words lingering in my mind. Keep thinking.

For some reason, Seraphina had said it again. Almost like a mantra. As if she were urging me toward a revelation I hadn’t yet reached. A missing piece, somewhere in the labyrinth of my thoughts.

Well, if there was something I was missing, I hadn’t the faintest idea what it was.

’Whatever,’ I thought, brushing the vague unease aside. Bigger tasks loomed.

’Luna, how can I form the White Star?’ I asked her directly, cutting to the chase.

Her voice echoed in my mind, calm and deliberate as always. ’As you’ve guessed, unlike a normal White Star, forming yours will require more than just knowledge. Your unique constitution demands something additional—a high-level epiphany. Intuition at its finest.’

That made sense. If the Black Star required the distilled essence of dark mana and an intuitive leap, then its counterpart—formed of light mana—would demand no less.

’And how exactly am I supposed to have an epiphany for light magic?’ I asked, my tone laced with dry skepticism. ’Should I start meditating under a holy tree or something?’

’You joke, but it’s not far off,’ she replied, unimpressed. ’These things can’t be forced. Build up your understanding. Engage with light mana as deeply as you have with dark mana. Eventually, it will happen.’

She didn’t need to say what was unspoken—that "eventually" could mean days, months, or years. It wasn’t exactly a satisfying answer.

I sighed and returned to my room, cracking open a stack of texts. If I couldn’t cheat my way to an epiphany, I could at least master every theoretical nuance about the White Star and keep refining my plans for the Lich. The rest of the day passed in a blur of diagrams, annotations, and arcane formulas.

By evening, the mansion was alive with the hum of students decompressing from their hunts. It seemed everyone had completed their missions, though the grades varied from glowing to disastrous. My stomach reminded me of its existence, so I headed to the dining hall.

There, amid the usual din, I spotted Rachel sitting alone, a slight pout tugging at her lips. She stabbed at her plate with unnecessary force.

"Hey, Rach," I called, walking up to her. She flinched, her sapphire eyes widening like I’d caught her committing a crime.

"What’s wrong?" I asked, sitting across from her.

"I got a C," she muttered, her voice low and venomous. "That goddamn witch."

Ah, yes. Cecilia. Of course.

"C’s still passing," I offered diplomatically.

Her fork froze mid-stab as she turned to glare at me like I’d just suggested breathing underwater. "Arthur," she said slowly, "I’m a Creighton. A C might as well be a death sentence."

Fair enough. I decided not to poke the bear further. Instead, we both grabbed food and found an empty table. For a while, we ate in companionable silence, until Rachel broke it with an unexpected question.

"Hey, want to explore the city tomorrow?" she asked, her tone lighter now.

"What about your presentation?" I asked.

"Already done." She shrugged, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Of course. Rachel was a genius. For her, these assignments were a foregone conclusion.

Then she tilted her head, her gaze sharpening with curiosity. "By the way, what’s your end-of-year project? You haven’t told me yet."

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

The question hung in the air. I hadn’t been keeping it a secret, per se, but it wasn’t exactly something you dropped casually over dinner.

"I’m going to make a Lich," I said, as evenly as if I’d announced I was baking bread.

Rachel froze mid-bite. Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the plate. Slowly, she blinked, as if convincing herself she’d heard wrong.

"S-sorry," she stammered, her voice tinged with nervous laughter. "I thought you said… Lich. Haha, good joke."

I didn’t say anything.

Her laughter faltered, and her cheeks turned pink as realization dawned. "You did say Lich."

I nodded.

She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "You crazy bas—!" she started, her voice rising before she clamped a hand over her mouth. I clamped my hand over hers for good measure.

"Shhh," I whispered, glancing around. "A Saintess shouldn’t yell. Or swear."

Her eyes widened, indignant and slightly guilty. I let go of her hand, and she jabbed a finger at me. "You’re crazy," she hissed, but quieter this time.

"Maybe," I admitted, my lips twitching into a smirk. "But it’ll be worth it."

"Well, I guess," Rachel mused, tapping her chin with a fork. Her bright blue eyes gleamed with curiosity. "But how can you even make one? I thought Liches could only be made by Ascendant-rankers or higher."

"There’s a way," I said, leaning back slightly. "It’s not conventional, but I can suppress the Lich’s strength to match mine, allowing it to grow alongside me."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a skeptical smile. "Hmm. That’s certainly ambitious. So, tell me, oh great necromancer, how exactly are you going to pull this off?"

"Four parts," I began, holding up my fingers one by one. "Skull, Skeleton, Staff, and Source. The Skull represents the Mind aspect, the Skeleton represents the Body, the Source holds the Soul, and the Staff ties everything together."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers under her chin. "You must’ve already gathered some materials, right? Nobody starts a project like this from scratch."

"I have the Skull and the Source," I admitted, watching her closely.

"A Skull," she murmured, her gaze sharpening. Then, she tilted her head, the wheels in her mind turning at an alarming speed. "Wait… my father gave it to you, didn’t he?"

I felt an involuntary shiver run down my spine. How did she figure it out so fast? She wasn’t even trying, just casually cutting through my carefully constructed ambiguity like a hot knife through butter.

"So," she continued, her tone laced with mock incredulity, "you have the Skull. The one from that Arch Lich my father sealed away, hmm?"

I sighed, realizing it was pointless to deny. "Yes."

Rachel sat back, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "Well, that’s certainly an impressive starting point. And you said you have the Source too? Let me guess, a beast’s heart?"

"A Basilisk Heart," I confirmed, watching her eyes widen momentarily before narrowing in thought.

"Of course it is," she muttered, her tone half-admiring, half-exasperated. "A Basilisk Heart. Do you ever do things the normal way, Arthur?"

"Would you expect me to?" I countered with a grin.

"Fair point." She sighed, shaking her head. "Alright, then. You’ve got the Mind and the Soul aspects sorted. Now you just need the Skeleton and the Staff. The Staff is the easy part—just get your hands on an Ancient-grade artifact. Expensive, but doable. The Skeleton, though… that’s where things get interesting. It has to harmonize perfectly with both the Skull and the Source."

I nodded, silently impressed by how well she understood the process. "You seem to know a suspicious amount about making a Lich for someone who’s supposed to be a Saintess."

Rachel waved a dismissive hand, as though brushing off the accusation. "Oh, please. It’s just common sense. It’s all about harmony—Mind, Body, and Soul. Anyone who’s studied the basics of advanced mana constructs would know that."

I raised an eyebrow at her, and she smirked, meeting my gaze with that infuriatingly serene confidence. "Besides," she added, "just because I’m a Saintess doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy learning about the things I’m not supposed to know."

"That’s… reassuring," I said dryly.

"It should be," she quipped, her tone light but her expression thoughtful. "You’re going to need all the help you can get. I hope you’re prepared for this, Arthur. A Lich isn’t something you can make on a whim."

"I know," I replied, my voice steady despite the weight of her words. "I’ve already started, Rachel. There’s no turning back now."