The Fuller Method had a reputation that could walk into a room before its name was even spoken. It was the blueprint. The go-to. The gold standard for ascending into seven-circle magic and reaching the vaunted Ascendant-rank, where mages stopped worrying about basic spell formations and started worrying about existential threats and continental politics.
But was it the best?
That depended on whether you were the kind of person satisfied with reliable progress or needed to push beyond conventional limitations entirely.
The Fuller Method was, in essence, the everyman's path to ascension. It worked for most people the way established roads work for travelers—reliable, predictable, well-maintained. It was standardized, safe, and thoroughly tested across generations of mages. That wasn't a flaw. It was by design. It gave people a structured path to power, a stable framework for circle development. No wild variables. No risky improvisations.
But that very simplicity was its ceiling.
