Laplace Method

"Father is sending an escort to pick us up," Rachel announced as she checked her holo-device, her tone casual, as if this was just another Tuesday.

I raised an eyebrow. "Escort? Isn't that a bit much?" I rubbed my cheek absently. "We're just heading back, not storming a fortress."

Rachel smirked. "It's not about safety. It's about pressure."

I frowned. "Pressure?"

"The Guildmaster of Vellanor has been… difficult," she admitted with a dramatic sigh. "Father wants to remind her where the real power lies."

I blinked. "And you're telling me this casually?"

Rachel shrugged. "It's normal stuff."

Normal. Right. Because casual political maneuvering between superpowers was just daily business for her. I exhaled, resisting the urge to shake my head.

"Who's the escort?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity.

Rachel's smirk widened. "One of the most powerful mages in the Creighton family."

That meant an Immortal-ranker at the very least.

I crossed my arms. "That's a little excessive, don't you think?"

"Not really," she said, scrolling through a few messages before looking up. "Guildmasters need reminders sometimes. Father believes a direct show of force will speed things along."

The Creighton family had fifteen Immortal-rank mages under their direct control. That didn't include the countless others who answered to them by proxy, bound by loyalty, contracts, or sheer necessity.

Sending one of them here wasn't just about protection. It was a message.

Before I could think too much about what that meant for me, the air shifted.

A pressure settled over the city. Not the overwhelming suffocation of a Radiant-rank entity, but something just a step below—a weight that pressed against the bones, the kind of presence that made people look up without knowing why.

The Creighton escort had arrived.

'He's strong,' Luna murmured in my mind, her tone mildly impressed. 'High Immortal-rank.'

That put him in the top fifty in the world.

My grip tightened slightly. I'd expected an Immortal-rank, sure, but high Immortal-rank? That was an entirely different level. The fact that the Creightons had multiple and could spare one for an escort mission spoke volumes about their power.

The man who landed before us was tall, broad-shouldered, and wrapped in a combat uniform lined with mana-resistant alloys. His blonde hair was neatly tied back, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—held a weight that reminded me of an executioner sizing up his target.

He bowed slightly, but only to Rachel. "Your Highness," he said, his voice smooth but firm. "I am here to escort you and your companion, Arthur Nightingale, as per Lord Creighton's orders."

Rachel grinned. "Hello, Sir Kealon."

Kealon. The name sparked something in my memory—one of the oldest serving Immortal-rankers in the Creighton family. A battlefield specialist. Known for annihilating entire squads of enemies with precision magic.

He turned his gaze to me, and for a split second, I felt the full weight of high Immortal-rank scrutiny. It wasn't killing intent. It wasn't even hostility. It was just… a cold, analytical assessment.

I kept my expression neutral.

Kealon gave the faintest nod, a fraction of approval, before looking back to Rachel. "Are you ready to depart?"

Rachel clapped her hands together. "Let's go then, shall we?"

With that, the real journey back to Luminarc began.

The journey back to Luminarc was smooth, almost eerily so. The city, a beacon of advanced magic and technology, loomed in the distance, its skyline punctuated by towering spires adorned with shimmering runes. The moment we arrived at the teleportation hub, Kealon led us with military precision, cutting through the usual bureaucracy with the kind of effortless authority that left lesser officials scrambling out of the way.

Rachel, of course, acted like this was completely normal.

As we stepped onto the maglev transport heading to the Creighton estate, I couldn't help but steal a glance at her. Relaxed. At ease. Completely unfazed by the power plays happening around us.

"You look thoughtful," she remarked, stretching slightly as we sat across from each other.

I exhaled. "Just thinking about how different your world is from mine."

Rachel tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You're part of this world now, you know."

I didn't reply immediately. Because that was what unsettled me.

Before I could dwell on it further, the maglev came to a smooth stop.

The Creighton estate was as grand as ever, a seamless blend of mana-infused structures and cutting-edge technology. The estate hummed with power, its security systems subtly woven into the very air, like an omnipresent sentinel. The sheer scale of the Creighton influence hit me again—this was one family's stronghold, yet it rivaled entire governing bodies in infrastructure and power.

And at the heart of it all stood Alastor Creighton.

The Archmage of the North awaited us in his observatory, a vast, circular chamber that overlooked Luminarc's glittering cityscape. The room pulsed with mana, artifacts and data displays floating midair, each one a testament to his vast knowledge and influence.

As Rachel and I entered, his gaze locked onto me immediately.

"So," Alastor said, the weight of his presence filling the space, "you return with more than you left with."

I met his eyes evenly. "Yes, Lord Creighton."

His sharp gaze flickered to Rachel for the briefest moment—something unspoken passed between them—before he stepped forward, his mana briefly flaring.

"You can use five-circle magic now," he said, not as a question, but as a fact he had already deduced.

I nodded. "Yes. My Gift allows me to bypass the usual limitations of four-circle mages."

A flicker of interest crossed his face. "And this Gift... You awakened it in the Kobold Sea?"

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "Yes."

Rachel shot me a glance, but she didn't contradict me.

Alastor studied me for a moment longer before his expression shifted ever so slightly—something between amusement and calculation. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he conjured a floating sphere of glowing runes between us.

"The Laplace Method," he stated.

I immediately focused. I had heard of it before from Alastor himself—a technique used by Creighton spellcasters to optimize high-level magic, reducing casting time and improving precision. A way to bypass the usual complex calculations of five-circle magic.

"I was going to grant the full Laplace method to Rachel once she reached White-rank," Alastor said. "But considering your newfound capabilities, I believe you are ready for it now."

The sphere of knowledge floated toward me. I extended my hand, and the moment I made contact, an influx of understanding rushed into my mind—an intricate formula, a sequence of adjustments to mana flow, a technique that felt less like a rigid structure and more like an intuitive framework to reshape my spells.

I let out a slow breath.

Alastor watched me, his expression unreadable. "You understand its significance, yes?"

I nodded. "This isn't just a method. It's a complete reconfiguration of how I approach magic."

His lips curved ever so slightly. "Good. Then make use of it well."

Rachel, standing beside me, crossed her arms. "You're giving it to him before me? Should I be offended?"

Alastor gave her an amused glance. "You will have it when you reach White-rank. Unlike Arthur, you don't need shortcuts."

Rachel huffed but didn't argue.

Alastor turned his gaze back to me. "This is the second time you've left my estate with more than you arrived with, Arthur Nightingale. That is not a pattern I allow lightly."

I didn't waver under his scrutiny. "Then I'll make sure it continues to be worth your time."

A short silence.

Then, Alastor chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Interesting."

Rachel clapped her hands together. "Well, since that's settled, we should get going. Mythos Academy isn't going to wait for us forever."

Alastor nodded. "Kealon will escort you to the teleportation hub. No unnecessary delays."

We both bowed slightly in acknowledgment before turning to leave.

As we exited the observatory, Rachel nudged me slightly. "You know, Father doesn't say things like that to just anyone."

I exhaled. "Yeah, I figured."

She smiled, shaking her head. "You're interesting, Arthur."

"That makes two of us."

And with that, we departed for Mythos Academy, leaving behind one battlefield only to prepare for the next.