ã€ŠThe Paradox of Time&#x27;s Wandererã€‹


 Chapter 1: A Glimpse of the Endless Loop

    Naethan stumbled through the dirt. His vision blurred, just like his memory of the moment everything fell apart. Suddenly... the crystal had begun to vibrate, and he had no idea what to do. So he pulled it from his pocket¡ªand then it happened: it shattered in his hand.

    A strange magic spilled forth¡ªalien and inexplicable¡ªand every piece of glass in the vicinity burst in a single, deafening moment. His glasses. The windows of the alley he was now staggering through. Everything shattered.

    And then... something, an energy or whatever it was, coursed through his body. Like lightning carving its way through wet wood into the earth.

    Then¡ªnothing. Complete silence. It was as if time itself had stopped.

    Odd. Usually, the sounds of the main street reached him here, yet now... nothing. Absolutely nothing. With trembling hands, he groped his way forward, making his way to the street¡ªtoward where the sounds had vanished.

    That¡¯s when he saw it. Blurred, yes, but the shadowy silhouettes of people were unmistakable¡ªthey stood motionless, as if they had forgotten how to move.

    And then, suddenly, the deafening noise returned. The people moved¡ªbut far too fast, as though time had stopped for a moment only to now catch up all at once.

    The cacophony rang in his ears, unbearably loud. He pressed his hands over them, desperately trying to block out the noise, until time resumed its usual pace.

    Yet something was wrong. Deep inside, he felt a pull, a tug, as if energy was being drained from his body. A paralyzing fatigue overtook him so suddenly it stole his breath¡ªas though he had traversed the entire city in a single step.

    It felt almost like mana depletion, that dreaded phenomenon magicians describe when they are completely exhausted. But that didn¡¯t make sense¡ªhe wasn¡¯t a magician. He hadn¡¯t cast a spell.

    Unless... He took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Unless that crystal had done something to him. Had it drawn the energy from within him, from his mana core? But why? For what purpose?

    His gaze darted to the shards now lying in the dirt like worthless glass. Had that thing... manipulated time? His hands trembled. He had seen the people frozen in place¡ªas if time itself had paused, only to then resume at a frantic pace. And yet... only he had been unaffected. Only he had been able to move. Why?

    ¡°Carefully, Naethan,¡± Master Alaric had said. ¡°You mustn¡¯t damage it. Do you understand? Not a single scratch!¡± But now... the shards told a different story.

    But it wasn¡¯t his fault! The cursed crystal had started vibrating on its own! What else could he have done? There was nothing he could have done differently.

    The mana depletion grew worse, and with every passing minute, it seemed to relentlessly drain mana from his body, like an invisible current slowly wearing him down.

    Damn it! He needed mana¡ªand quickly. Otherwise, he¡¯d lose consciousness. Or worse... die.

    From his wallet, he pulled a small, gray stone¡ªa mana shard. These stones were not only used as currency among magicians but also by common folk. They contained a small amount of stored mana and were exclusively crafted by magicians.

    He knew it was possible to absorb the mana to nourish his mana core, but he had no idea how. Desperately, he tried everything. Closing his eyes, he focused on the stone, trying to sense it¡ªbut nothing. Nothing but the steady ticking of time in his mind.

    Minutes passed. He didn¡¯t have much longer. Straining, he pressed on the stone, as if trying to squeeze the mana out, but nothing, absolutely nothing, happened. Desperation clawed at him. The pull grew stronger, the exhaustion deeper. His body felt heavier, his consciousness flickering on the edge of darkness. And then...

    ...he was back. Exactly at the moment he had taken the crystal from his pocket, or so he assumed, because he was once again in the alley, and the stone was intact. His fingers closed around it again¡ªbut this time, something was different.

    The stone didn¡¯t stir. No pulsating, no faint vibrations. Instead, it lay still in his hand, too still.

    Naethan examined it more closely, remembering the pale green shimmer it had previously held. Now, however, it appeared gray, almost lifeless, as though an inner light had been extinguished. What did that mean? The stone seemed dead, and yet... something was different. Naethan could feel it deep in his bones.

    It was as though an invisible thread was being pulled from him, endlessly, and although the pull was weaker now, Naethan knew it was only a matter of time before he stood before the abyss once more.

    What if the stone wasn¡¯t just gray? What if it had... lost its magic? And what would that mean for him? Was it possible to sever this strange connection before it completely drained him?

    He couldn¡¯t simply wait for the next time. It would be worse. Maybe... maybe he could figure out how the stone worked. Or he¡¯d have to seek out Master Alaric¡ªeven if it meant explaining how the crystal had been destroyed.

    He walked through the alley to the street, looking around. Everything seemed normal. The people, the houses, the sounds of the city. No shattered windows, no frozen silhouettes. Even his glasses were intact. Naethan took them off, turning them in his hands to be sure. The fine crack they had gotten days ago was still there. It was as if nothing had happened.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    What should he do now? Seek out Master Alaric, or head to the academy, where the stone was originally supposed to be studied? The academy was closer, but that also meant he would have to move faster than the pull. Perhaps he should replenish his mana first.

    Once again, he pulled a mana shard from his pocket, turning it in his hands. If only he could absorb its mana. Desperation crawled up his spine. How could he accomplish something so difficult? He thought hard. Maybe there was a magician in the city who could help him.

    He looked around frantically, then addressed the first man he saw. ¡°Excuse me!¡± Naethan gasped, grabbing the man¡¯s arm. The man recoiled, looking at him suspiciously. ¡°I... I¡¯m looking for a magician. Please, do you know where I can find one?¡± The man blinked, furrowing his brow as if trying to understand what Naethan wanted.

    ¡°A magician?¡± he asked hesitantly.

    Naethan nodded hastily. ¡°Yes, please, quickly.¡±

    The man glanced around briefly, as if seeking orientation. Then he pointed in a direction and began to explain something. But Naethan barely listened¡ªthe pull was unbearable. His knees felt wobbly, his vision blurred. He knew his strength was failing, he could feel it. He had to hurry¡ªor it would all end before he could find help.

    As the end came and his consciousness faded once more, Naethan knew where he would return. It was like a cold, familiar shiver passing through him¡ªand then he was back there.

    Exactly at the moment he had taken the crystal from his pocket. Once again, it was intact. No cracks, no pulsations. The stone lay quietly in his hand, too quietly, and Naethan knew: This was the third loop. And perhaps his last chance to change something. Surely it couldn¡¯t go on like this forever, could it?

    Before he could dwell on it, he started moving. He ran, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing. This time, he couldn¡¯t make a mistake. The man had shown him the way to a magician, and Naethan knew he had to get there before the pull overwhelmed him. The direction was clear, and so was the goal¡ªbut time, time was still working against him.

    The people, the alley, everything was the same. Yet the subtle differences Naethan noticed only heightened his sense of urgency. He had to make it. He couldn¡¯t fail again.

    When he reached the crossroads, Naethan stopped, panting. Everything looked exactly as before¡ªbut this time, he hesitated not a second. ¡°Excuse me!¡± he called, grabbing a woman¡¯s arm. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she responded faster than the man last time, though still agonizingly slow. She pointed in a direction, and Naethan felt the pull within him grow stronger, faster than before. He sprinted off. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose a second.

    He had etched the image of the house the woman described deep into his mind. Right nearby. This time, he wouldn¡¯t waste time. No more questions, no hesitation. This time, he¡¯d find the magician before the loop overtook him again.

    When he reached the magician¡¯s house, Naethan knocked on the heavy door. Over and over, until his knuckles ached. Come on, he urged silently, open up! But the door remained shut, as if mocking him.

    He peered through the window, his eyes darting over the many items in the room¡ªvials, books, strange apparatuses that defied description. The room was cluttered with all sorts of things, but deserted. No sign of the magician. Despair crawled up his spine, and Naethan felt the pull within him grow stronger. He didn¡¯t have much time left.

    Cursing, he turned away and ran back onto the street. He grabbed the first person he saw, an older man, and asked if he knew where the magician was. But the man only shook his head, looking confused. Naethan clenched his fists, frustration mounting, and he felt time slipping away. Yet in the last moment, he saw out of the corner of his eye a boy watching him curiously. Maybe... maybe he knew something?

    Quickly, he sprinted to the boy, his legs buckling beneath him as he fell into the dirt, his glasses breaking on the ground.

    ¡°Please,¡± he said to the boy. ¡°Where is the magician?¡±

    The boy responded, and Naethan lost consciousness.

    Once again, he found himself in the alley. His breath came in gasps, his legs felt heavy. The pull had caught up with him again, and this time it took him longer to stand up. He gritted his teeth, forcing his aching legs to move. This time, he knew exactly where he had to run. The Krimsburg Street was directly across the alley, and Naethan took off running before he was fully back in reality. He couldn¡¯t hesitate.

    The first doors remained shut. He knocked, shouted, pleaded for the magician, but no one knew anything. Yet Naethan didn¡¯t give up. He knocked on door after door until finally, a woman opened. Her face was anxious, her eyes wide as if she were expecting something. ¡®The magician,¡¯ Naethan called breathlessly, ¡®is he here?¡¯

    The woman nodded, her lips forming a word, but before Naethan could grasp it, he felt the pull, stronger than ever. His body was yanked away from him, and once again he found himself in the alley.

    Naethan cursed, his hands clenching into fists. How many more times? How many more times would he have to live through this loop? He felt the crystal heavy in his pocket, as if mocking him. This time, he had to succeed. If he didn¡¯t reach the magician before the pull caught him again, it might be the end. He couldn¡¯t afford another failure.

    This time, he was faster. When he reached the woman¡¯s house and knocked, he didn¡¯t waste a second when the door opened. He stormed past the woman, who stared at him, perplexed, without a word of explanation. His eyes darted frantically through the rooms, his steps echoing on the wooden floor. Where? Where was the magician? He flung open doors, ran up and down stairs, but the house was too large. His heart pounded, time pressed, and the pull already tugged at him, as if trying to rob him of his breath.

    Cursing, Naethan stopped. His gaze fell on the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway¡ªthe cellar. That had to be it. He ran down the creaking steps, the darkness nearly swallowing him, but then he saw a figure. The magician stood there, his youthful face tense as he studied a broken vase.

    ¡®You¡¯re the magician, right?¡¯ Naethan called, his voice echoing in the small room. The magician lifted his head, his eyes widening in surprise. No time. No time.

    ¡®How?!¡¯ Naethan yelled, his voice almost panicked. ¡®How can I absorb the magic from a mana shard? It¡¯s life and death!¡¯

    The magician stared at Naethan for a long moment, as if trying to understand his intentions. The pull was already tugging at Naethan, and he knew he didn¡¯t have much time left. Finally, the magician nodded. ¡®Alright,¡¯ he said, his voice calm and reassuring, and for a moment, Naethan¡¯s racing heart slowed. ¡®I¡¯ll tell you.¡¯

    The magician stepped closer, his eyes fixed firmly on Naethan. ¡®You need to stay calm,¡¯ he said, his voice firm and authoritative. ¡®Go deep inside yourself. The mana shard is like a mirror of your soul. You need to feel it, not grab it. Let the mana flow as if it¡¯s a part of yourself.¡¯

    Naethan gasped, the pull growing stronger, but the magician¡¯s words reached him. Stay calm. Feel the mana. He closed his eyes, trying to sense the shard in his pocket. It was like reaching for something invisible, something that kept slipping away. But then¡ªa hint of warmth, a pulse, barely perceptible.

    The pull relentlessly continued, but Naethan held on, trying again as his world began to blur. He had to succeed¡ªnow, before everything reset again. Just a little more, and he¡¯d have it. Just a little more.

    The pull was faster. He found himself back in the alley. ¡®Damn it!¡¯ he thought. But this time was different. This time, he knew how.

 Chapter 2: The Weight of Loops

    Pulling a mana shard from his pocket, he recalled the magician¡¯s words: Stay calm, feel the mana. He closed his eyes and focused on the shard. There¡ªfaint but unmistakable¡ªhe felt a warmth. His pulse quickened. Carefully, almost timidly, he reached for it. A tingling sensation coursed through him as the mana began to flow into his mana core, deep behind his navel¡ªthe center of his magic.

    He hadn¡¯t realized how good it would feel to be replenished with mana. Exhausted, he sank to the ground. At last, he had gained some time. But the shard was now empty, nearly useless. A magician could refill it and use it as currency, but in its current state, it was hardly worth keeping. Still, Naethan slipped it back into his pocket.

    Only five shards remained¡ªfar too few to last long. Maybe they¡¯d get him through the evening, but time was ticking relentlessly. What should he do now? Seek out the magician again? Master Alaric had warned him not to let anyone know about the crystal. He had seemed rushed, almost as if he wanted to rid himself of it quickly.

    Show it only to the Archmage, Alaric had said. He alone knows what to do with it.

    Perhaps Naethan could use the loop to gather more mana shards. But how? He didn¡¯t have enough shards for gambling.

    Should he work? An hourly wage might be enough to sustain him with mana, but what about food, water, and a place to sleep? Normally, he would have used mana shards for those needs, but now they were his only lifeline in the loop. Begging, he thought hesitantly. Maybe I could memorize the faces of those willing to give me shards.

    The thought repulsed him¡ªstooping so low was a foreign concept to him. But time was running out. Pride was a luxury he couldn¡¯t afford. He shook his head as if to clear his doubts and crouched in the dirt to adjust his appearance. With trembling fingers, he smeared dirt on his face until his cheeks and forehead looked blotchy.

    There was no time for perfection. He stumbled toward the main street, his heart pounding. The streets were busy, bustling and loud. Perfect. This has to work, he thought, forcing himself to keep moving. The pull inside him reminded him how little time he had left.

    Sitting on the street, his face and clothes smeared with dirt, he held out his hand and pleaded, ¡°Just one shard¡­ please.¡± People rushed past without a glance or shot him disdainful looks, as though he were just another piece of trash by the roadside. His hope dwindled with every second. This was a stupid idea, he thought bitterly. Begging wasn¡¯t working¡ªnot here, not in this city.

    He scanned the crowd desperately. If they wouldn¡¯t give¡­ why not take? His eyes locked onto a man leisurely making his way down the street¡ªa classic rich merchant, complete with an overstuffed belly and expensive coat. A heavy pouch dangled from his belt, and Naethan could almost hear it jingling.

    He¡¯s bound to have shards. And if not, something I can sell. His breathing quickened. It was risky, but time was against him. The pull inside him grew stronger, like an invisible knot tightening around him. He couldn¡¯t afford to wait any longer.

    Naethan wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and stood up. His legs felt shaky, but he forced them to move. Slowly, inconspicuously, he followed the man, his mind racing. He had never stolen from anyone before, but now he had no other choice. Just one shard, he told himself, and I¡¯ll be one step closer.

    When the man turned into an alley, Naethan seized his chance. Now or never. He hurried after him, his heart pounding in his chest. The noise of the main street faded, and the shadows of the alley wrapped around him. But as he peered around the corner, the man was gone.

    What the¡­? Naethan froze, blinking into the darkness. He couldn¡¯t have just vanished.

    ¡°Did you really think you could steal from me so easily?¡±

    The voice made him jump. He spun around, his eyes wide with shock. The man stood a few steps behind him, his large belly shaking with suppressed laughter. His small, sharp eyes studied Naethan, and he slowly twirled the heavy pouch in his hand.

    ¡°You don¡¯t look like a common thief. Or a beggar.¡± The man took a step closer, and Naethan instinctively backed away until his back pressed against the cold brick wall of the alley. ¡°So? Why would someone like you take such a risk? Are you in debt?¡±

    Naethan remained silent, his thoughts racing. What should he say? Lie? Tell the truth? Before he could decide, the man laughed again, a guttural, satisfied sound. ¡°How old are you, boy?¡±

    Naethan hesitated. ¡°Sixteen.¡± His voice was shaky, and he hated himself for it.

    ¡°Sixteen.¡± The man nodded, as if confirming something important. ¡°And why are you out here alone, without protection, without¡­ anything? Hmm?¡± He shook the pouch in his hand, the soft jingling of mana shards filling the air. ¡°What are you really after?¡±

    ¡°I need money for the journey to the mage academy.¡± Naethan¡¯s voice sounded more determined than he felt.

    The man raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips. ¡°The mage academy, is it? You do know you need a letter of recommendation from a magician just to be considered, right?¡±

    Naethan hesitated, his fingers twitching. Slowly, his hand drifted toward his pocket, where the letter lay¡ªthe only thing legitimizing him, the only thing tying him to this world. The man¡¯s eyes followed the movement, and he chuckled softly.

    ¡°So you have one.¡± His smile widened, and for a moment, it seemed almost dangerous. ¡°You¡¯re getting more interesting by the second, boy.¡±

    Naethan felt the pull inside him grow stronger. He knew his time was running out. Part of him wanted to give in, to relinquish control and let the loop start over. Maybe it would be easier, maybe he could do better. But what if it was worse this time? What if he missed something crucial because he gave up?

    He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay upright, though his legs felt as heavy as lead. ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked, his voice unsteady but laced with a hint of defiance.

    The man studied him in silence for a moment before holding out the pouch with a sly grin. ¡°I have a proposition. Do something for me, and I¡¯ll give you enough shards to fund your journey. What do you say?¡±

    Naethan hesitated. Should he accept this offer from the merchant? ¡°Depends. What do I have to do?¡± The man smirked. ¡°Oh, nothing difficult. Just pick something up and deliver it to Valmor, the city of mages. Shouldn¡¯t be a problem for you, especially since you¡¯re headed there anyway.¡± That did sound simple enough. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.¡°There isn¡¯t one,¡± the man said with a wink.

    Naethan eyed him skeptically. ¡°And why should I trust you?¡±

    The man laughed, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the narrow alley. ¡°Trust is for fools, boy. You¡¯re doing this for yourself¡ªnot for me. After all, you need mana, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Naethan exhaled quietly. Mana, not shards. Of course the man knew. It was as if he could sense the emptiness inside him, the void consuming him from within.

    ¡°If it¡¯s so easy, why don¡¯t you do it yourself?¡± Naethan asked.

    The man¡¯s grin widened, and a shadow flickered across his eyes. ¡°Because I have more important matters to attend to. But you¡­ you¡¯re the perfect person for this. No one will give you a second glance.¡±

    A cold shiver ran down Naethan¡¯s spine. It wasn¡¯t a threat, yet there was something unsettling in the man¡¯s tone.

    ¡°Well? Are you in?¡± The man extended his hand, his grin almost inviting¡ªbut Naethan couldn¡¯t help feeling like a mouse staring at a trap.

    <hr>

    The magician¡¯s workshop was cluttered with all sorts of odds and ends, and Naethan wondered how anyone could keep track of the books, scrolls, glass flasks, and strange contraptions scattered around.

    ¡°You said someone sent you to pick something up?¡± The magician was an odd figure. His black, greasy hair was neatly combed back, and he sported a three-day beard along with dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn¡¯t slept in days. Beneath his lip was a large mole so pronounced that Naethan wondered how the man managed to eat.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Felix von Rothenburg sent me.¡±

    The flask the magician was handling slipped from his fingers and shattered on the expensive floor.

    ¡°Felix von Rothenburg?!¡± The magician stared at Naethan as if he¡¯d just uttered the name of a dead god. His hand trembled as he looked at the shards of glass, and a curse escaped his lips.

    ¡°Uh¡­ yeah,¡± Naethan stammered. ¡°He said I should pick something up. Is that a problem?¡±

    The magician looked up, the dark circles under his eyes seeming even deeper. ¡°A problem? Boy, this isn¡¯t a problem. This is a bloody disaster.¡±

    Naethan swallowed hard. ¡°What¡­ what does that mean?¡±

    The magician snorted and sank into a wobbly chair. ¡°Felix von Rothenburg is not someone you deal with unless you have no choice. And if he sent you, you¡¯re either incredibly stupid¡ªor incredibly dangerous.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m neither,¡± Naethan murmured, though his voice lacked conviction.

    The magician shook his head, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a small, sealed box. ¡°Here. Take it and leave. And if you¡¯re smart, don¡¯t ask what¡¯s inside.¡±

    Naethan took the box carefully. It was heavier than he¡¯d expected, and the cold metal felt unsettling. ¡°What¡­ what does it do?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know.¡± The magician leaned forward, his eyes burning with seriousness. ¡°And I mean that literally. Some things are better left unknown.¡±

    <hr>

    The next morning, after spending the night in an inn and enjoying a hearty meal, Naethan faced a new problem. The harbor lay eerily quiet, and trade had significantly diminished recently. The few merchant ships still operating were under strict scrutiny, and Naethan suspected that whatever he was carrying was on the list of prohibited items.

    So, he did what any time-loop traveler would do¡ªhe observed the movements of the harbor guards.

    Near one of the merchant ships, several men had gathered. Two wore the uniforms of the harbor guard, and Naethan watched as they pulled a sailor aside and searched a heavy sack.

    ¡°Contraband,¡± one of the guards said, his voice sharp as a blade. ¡°This could cost you your head, my friend.¡±

    The sailor protested loudly, but the guards were unmoved. Naethan retreated deeper into the shadows, trying to ignore his heart pounding like a blacksmith¡¯s hammer.

    What if they searched his box? He shook his head, trying to calm himself. They¡¯d have to catch him in the act first. He studied their movements closely. Was the guard distracted at that very moment? He thought he saw an opening to sneak aboard.

    The pull inside him grew stronger, and he hesitated to use another shard. Should he try now or wait for the next loop, when he was more certain? He could try now, and if it failed, he could give in to the pull and try again.

    Naethan pressed his hands against the cold, rough wall, keeping his eyes on the guards. Just one brief moment. The right moment. His heart was still racing, but he forced himself to stay focused.

    The two guards were distracted¡ªone inspecting a crate while the other argued loudly with a dockworker. The entrance to the ship was unguarded, a ramp of thick wooden planks leading into the cargo hold. This was his chance.

    He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the pull inside him grow stronger. Not now. He took a deep breath. I only have this one shot. If it goes wrong¡­ He shook the thought away. If it goes wrong, I have the loop.

    Naethan stepped out of the shadows, moving as quietly as he could. The ramp was slick from the sea air, and the weight of the box in his pocket pulled at him like a leaden stone. He felt his body almost betray him¡ªa tremor in his legs, a too-quick breath. But he forced himself forward.

    As he was nearly at the top, a shout rang out behind him.

    ¡°Hey, you there! Stop!¡±

    Damn it, Naethan thought, breaking into a run. But as he reached the deck, someone stepped into his path.

    Naethan sighed. It was time to start over.

    He gave in to the pull.

    <hr>

    The loop began like every other. Naethan already knew what would happen¡ªevery move, every word, even the sound of Felix¡¯s laughter when his attempt at theft failed. But this time, something was different. The pull still tugged at him, but it felt weaker, almost patient. It was as though something inside him had grown stronger.

    Naethan left the inn early in the morning. The streets were damp with fog that had rolled in overnight, and the salty scent of the harbor tickled his nose. As he walked through the alleys, he closed his eyes briefly, reaching inward. His mana core, the small spark deep within him, pulsed faintly but steadily. Had it truly grown?

    The thought made him pause. Every loop, every exhaustion, every emptiness¡ªcould it all be making him stronger in the end? Naethan shook his head, brushing the thought aside. He didn¡¯t have time for this. Today, he had to succeed.

    At the harbor, he found shelter in the shadow of a stack of crates. The scene was familiar: guards patrolling, merchants unloading goods, and sailors carrying crates onto a large merchant ship. But Naethan had memorized their routines by now. He knew when the guards were distracted and which routes the sailors preferred.

    His eyes followed one of the harbor guards, a broad-shouldered man with a scratchy beard who always looked toward the bell whenever it rang.

    The bell tolled, and, as expected, the guard turned away. Naethan held his breath. Now was the moment. He slipped from his hiding spot, moving as quietly and smoothly as a shadow. The ramp of thick wooden planks stretched before him, each step a small risk. The box in his pocket pressed uncomfortably against his hip, as if to remind him of all he had to lose.

    But then he was at the top. The deck of the ship stretched out before him, wide and sturdy, the intricately carved railings gleaming in the faint morning light. Naethan paused, his gaze sweeping over the towering masts that stood like silent sentinels against the sky.

    An actual merchant ship, he thought, awestruck. Impressive. The thought was so unexpected that it almost made him smile. His fingers rested on the box in his pocket, but his eyes continued to wander. The water below sparkled, the sound of waves soothing. Maybe I could travel like this... see the world.

    He shook his head, banishing the thought. ¡°Focus,¡± he muttered to himself, making his way toward the cargo hold. The scent of tar and damp wood greeted him as he descended the ramp. The shadows were deep, and the sounds of the harbor were muffled here.

    He found a hiding spot behind a large crate, sitting on the cold floor with his back against the wood. His heart still beat fast, but this time, it wasn¡¯t fear he felt. It was relief¡ªand something new.

    He closed his eyes and reached inward. His mana core was still small, but there was a difference. He felt¡­ steadier. Stronger. Am I really growing through all this loss? The thought almost made him laugh, but he knew better than to celebrate too soon. The pull was still there, albeit weaker. The loop wouldn¡¯t let him rest for long.

    Suddenly, he heard footsteps above him, the dull thud of boots on the planks. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows, holding his breath as the sounds grew closer. A sailor appeared at the entrance to the cargo hold¡ªa slender man with sharp eyes. He glanced around briefly before picking up a crate and carrying it up the ramp. Naethan didn¡¯t breathe again until the footsteps faded.

    The ship began to sway gently as it left the harbor. Naethan felt the movement beneath him and knew there was no turning back¡ªnot in this loop, at least. He leaned against the crate that concealed him and took a deep breath.

    ¡°Valmor,¡± he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡±

 Chapter 3: The Boy in the Shadows

    Hours passed in silence, the ship¡¯s swaying lulling Naethan into a restless half-sleep. He could hear the distant murmurs of the sailors above, the occasional creak of the planks, and the rhythmic crashing of waves against the hull. Yet his thoughts refused to settle.

    What was inside the box? Why had Felix von Rothenburg chosen him for this task? The magician¡¯s words echoed in his mind: There are things better left undiscovered.

    Naethan clenched his fists. He had no choice but to deliver the box. Felix had made that abundantly clear. Yet the mystery gnawed at him. Was it worth the risk? Would the Archmage of Valmor even help him? Or was he just another pawn in a game he didn¡¯t understand?

    The pull inside him was faint now, almost as if the loop were waiting for him to take a step. It hadn¡¯t disappeared¡ªhe could still feel its distant tug¡ªbut it no longer controlled him.

    Cautiously, Naethan moved through the dim cargo hold. The faint rays of light filtering through the cracks in the wood offered little visibility. His mind was heavy, consumed by questions about the box and Felix¡¯s intentions. Then, his foot caught on something¡ªor someone.

    ¡°Ow!¡± A sharp cry shattered the silence. Naethan froze, his heart racing. He had clearly overlooked someone.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered hurriedly, his voice low. Squinting into the darkness, he tried to make out the shape before him.

    ¡°You¡¯d better be,¡± came a defiant reply, followed by the sound of a blanket being thrown back. A figure emerged¡ªa boy, not much younger than Naethan, with messy hair and dirt-streaked clothes. ¡°Are we there yet?¡± the boy asked, squinting at Naethan with narrowed eyes.

    Naethan blinked in surprise. ¡°I thought you were a rat.¡±

    ¡°Well, thanks for that,¡± the boy said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t look much better yourself.¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡± Naethan quickly raised a hand, his voice a hushed whisper. ¡°Keep your voice down. I don¡¯t want to get caught.¡±

    ¡°Relax.¡± The boy waved him off and stood up. ¡°With all the noise from the sea, no one will hear us. Besides, they¡¯re too busy getting ready for arrival to bother looking for rats¡ªor us.¡±

    Naethan couldn¡¯t deny that the boy had a point. He let some of his tension ease. ¡°You might be right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Finn,¡± the boy said finally, extending a dirty hand.

    ¡°Uh, Naethan,¡± he replied, hesitating before shaking it. The grip was brief, firm but not hostile.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Finn asked, his tone casual, as if he already knew the answer.

    Naethan eyed him skeptically. ¡°I could ask you the same thing.¡±

    Finn grinned broadly. ¡°Easy¡ªI¡¯m here to become a mage.¡±

    Naethan snorted in disbelief. ¡°Become a mage? You do know you need a recommendation letter for that, right? And no offense, but you don¡¯t exactly look like you¡¯re on friendly terms with many mages.¡± He gestured at Finn¡¯s ragged clothing.

    Finn¡¯s eyes sparkled mischievously. ¡°What does that matter? You don¡¯t look like much either.¡±

    Naethan shrugged. ¡°Fair enough. Do you have a recommendation letter?¡±

    Finn hesitated briefly. Naethan caught the fleeting look of mistrust that crossed his face. Then Finn tilted his chin up slightly, almost defiantly. ¡°My master saw potential in me and wrote me one. What about you?¡±

    Naethan studied Finn, unsure whether to believe him. But what could he say? That his own letter had landed him in a situation he barely understood?

    ¡°Yeah, I have one too,¡± Naethan admitted finally, reluctantly.

    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Finn said with a wide grin. ¡°Looks like I already know a future mage.¡±

    Naethan nodded, but before he could respond, loud thudding from above interrupted them. Voices echoed down through the deck.

    ¡°They¡¯re coming! Let¡¯s hide,¡± Naethan hissed.

    Finn nodded, and the two of them quickly crawled under the dirty rags scattered around the cargo hold. The stench was sharp and musty, and Naethan had to stifle a cough.

    The door to the cargo hold creaked open, and heavy footsteps followed. Two men entered, their voices deep and loud.

    ¡°I want all this unloaded by 6 p.m. We¡¯re heading back to Nikosia tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Understood, will do,¡± the second man replied.

    Naethan held his breath, his heart pounding in his throat. The footsteps gradually receded, and the door closed with a dull thud.

    ¡°How are we going to get out of here?¡± Naethan whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

    Finn¡¯s eyes glinted in the darkness. ¡°Leave that to me,¡± he said quietly, disappearing into the shadows.

    Naethan waited, tension buzzing through him. He could feel his hands trembling as he strained to hear any sound. Minutes passed, dragging endlessly. Suddenly, a soft call broke the silence.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Naethan, now!¡±

    He crawled out from his hiding spot and followed Finn as quickly as he could. When he reached the door, he stopped abruptly. A sailor lay unconscious on the ground, his body heavy and motionless.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡± Naethan whispered, disbelief evident in his voice.

    Finn shot him a mischievous glance. ¡°I have my tricks. Now hurry.¡±

    They made their way to the railing, ducking low and creeping cautiously toward the ramp. Naethan¡¯s heart hammered against his ribs as he carefully measured each step on the slick planks. Above them, the sailors¡¯ voices mingled with the rhythmic crash of waves against the ship¡¯s hull.

    ¡°Stay low,¡± Finn whispered, crawling ahead. His eyes darted nervously, scanning for any sign of danger.

    Naethan nodded, even though Finn probably couldn¡¯t see it. The weight of the box in his pocket seemed to grow heavier with every step, a constant, oppressive reminder of what was at stake.

    Suddenly, Finn stopped. Naethan, right behind him, nearly stumbled into him. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked hoarsely.

    ¡°Look ahead. See them?¡± Finn gestured with a slight nod toward two men standing by the ramp, deep in conversation. One wore a harbor guard¡¯s uniform, the other a burly sailor with a crate on his shoulder.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Naethan muttered, his throat tightening. ¡°What do we do now?¡±

    Finn grinned slightly, as if he¡¯d been waiting for this question. ¡°Stay here. Let me handle it.¡±

    ¡°What? Finn, wait!¡± But Finn was already gone, slipping silently past a crate and disappearing from Naethan¡¯s view.

    Naethan stood frozen, his heart racing, thoughts chasing each other in his mind. What was that boy planning? Before he could think further, a loud crash rang out. A stack of barrels near the railing toppled over, hitting the ground with a resounding clatter.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± one of the men shouted. ¡°Did you see that?¡±

    ¡°No, but we¡¯d better check it out,¡± the other replied, and both of them ran toward the noise.

    Finn reappeared beside Naethan, a self-satisfied grin on his face. ¡°Now or never.¡±

    ¡°Did you do that on purpose?¡± Naethan asked as he hastily followed Finn.

    ¡°Of course. Who else? Come on, the ramp¡¯s clear.¡±

    The two of them crouched and hurried down the ramp, the wood creaking faintly under their feet. Naethan could almost feel the solid ground of the harbor beneath him when a gruff voice called out behind them: ¡°Hey! You there!¡±

    Finn reacted immediately, grabbing Naethan¡¯s arm and pulling him into a narrow alley. ¡°Don¡¯t panic,¡± he whispered, throwing a glance at Naethan that somehow managed to be reassuring. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡±

    Before Naethan could protest, Finn yanked a loose rope from a nearby stack and quickly tossed it into a corner, where it entangled with a pile of empty crates. As the men rounded the corner, they tripped over the mess, cursing loudly as the crates crashed to the ground.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Finn didn¡¯t give Naethan time to think, dragging him further into the shadowy streets of the harbor.

    They eventually reached a quieter part of the docks, far from the bustling activity. Naethan leaned heavily against a wall, breathing hard, while Finn stood with his hands on his hips, grinning at him.

    ¡°So, what now?¡± Finn asked finally. ¡°As far as I know, the academy¡¯s admissions ceremony isn¡¯t for two days. What¡¯s your plan until then?¡±

    Naethan straightened up and shrugged. ¡°We could share a room at an inn.¡±

    Finn blinked in surprise. ¡°You want us to share a room?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Naethan offered a faint grin. ¡°I¡¯ve got enough shards. Felix von Rothenburg gave me enough to last a whole month.¡±

    Finn¡¯s eyes widened before he burst into laughter. ¡°A whole month? Well then. But you¡¯re paying.¡±

    Naethan laughed along. ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯ll pay.¡±

    Finn clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°I think I like you, Naethan.¡±

    The city of Valmor spread out before them, a labyrinth of winding streets and towering buildings illuminated by floating magical lanterns. The salty scent of the harbor mingled with the sweet aroma of magical herbs sold at small stalls lining the main road.

    Naethan stopped and glanced around uncertainly. ¡°Now what? We need a place to stay, but I have no idea where to start.¡±

    Finn snapped his fingers and pointed toward a narrow alley barely wide enough for a carriage. ¡°Down there. I know an inn that shouldn¡¯t be too expensive.¡±

    Naethan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh yeah? And how do you know that?¡±

    Finn shrugged. ¡°You hear things when you¡¯re on the move. Trust me, this alley leads right to it.¡±

    Naethan followed him but kept his gaze alert. The alley was narrow, lined with timber-framed houses whose shutters were painted in various colors. The ground was damp, and somewhere nearby, water trickled.

    ¡°You seem to know your way around,¡± Naethan remarked, keeping his tone casual.

    ¡°Instinct,¡± Finn replied without looking back.

    Naethan remained silent, but a faint skepticism gnawed at him. Finn navigated the city as if it were familiar to him¡ªbehavior that didn¡¯t quite match someone who claimed to be ¡°just a future mage.¡±

    After a few minutes, they reached a small inn with a wooden sign swaying gently in the wind. The name was barely legible, the wood weathered, but warm light shone through the windows.

    ¡°Here we are,¡± Finn said, turning to Naethan as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

    Naethan studied him for a moment before nodding. ¡°All right, lead the way. Let¡¯s see if this place is as good as you say.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, you won¡¯t regret it,¡± Finn replied with a cheeky grin before pushing open the door.

    <hr>

    Finn had been right. Naethan sank into the soft pillows with a satisfied sigh. His full stomach and the scent of roasted goose made him feel drowsy. The meal of wild roast goose had been a treat, and Naethan couldn¡¯t help but praise Finn.

    ¡°Hey, Finn.¡±

    Finn was lying on the bed, one hand resting casually on his stomach, half-asleep. He opened one eye. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Do you think the Archmage will be at the initiation tomorrow?¡±

    Finn snorted softly and sat up halfway. ¡°Oh, the Archmage himself? Sure, he¡¯s got nothing better to do than waste his time on rookies like you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Naethan murmured. He pushed the blanket aside and stared at the ceiling. ¡°But I¡¯ve always wanted to see him. I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s impressive.¡±

    ¡°Impressive?¡± Finn¡¯s mouth twisted into a crooked grin. ¡°The old geezer turned everything upside down with his Implicatio Fortunitas. A completely new magic system¡ªso simple even beginners can grasp it. And the old shamanistic traditions? He made them look like child¡¯s play.¡±

    Naethan remained silent. In his mind¡¯s eye, he pictured a man whose fame reached even the walls of this modest inn.

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re not a big fan,¡± Naethan remarked cautiously, trying to read Finn¡¯s expression, though the flickering lamp beside the bed cast more shadows than light on his new companion¡¯s face.

    Finn leaned back, his eyes half-closed. ¡°Like him? No. Respect him? Maybe. The Archmage is a genius, no doubt about it. But geniuses¡­¡± He paused as if deciding how much to reveal. Then he shrugged. ¡°¡­have a habit of doing things others don¡¯t understand. And they often leave a trail of broken lives behind them.¡±

    Naethan frowned. ¡°That sounds pretty bitter. Have you met him before?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Finn¡¯s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ¡°Maybe not.¡± He waved a hand dismissively, as if to brush the topic aside. ¡°What does it matter? You¡¯ll see him yourself tomorrow if you¡¯re lucky,¡± Finn said as he leaned back into his pillow. ¡°But if I were you, I wouldn¡¯t get my hopes up.¡±

    Naethan frowned, but before he could respond, Finn closed his eyes and murmured, ¡°Geniuses are rarely what they seem to be.¡±

    Naethan stayed awake a while longer, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The crystal in his pocket suddenly felt heavier, almost like a burden he wasn¡¯t sure he could bear. But he had no choice. The Archmage of Valmor was his only hope¡ªor his downfall.

 Chapter 4: The Test of Potential

    The academy was overwhelming. Countless towers stretched toward the sky, their spires almost vanishing into the dazzling midday sunlight, like the clouds of an ancient fairytale. The scent of aged stone mixed with a faint hint of magical herbs hung heavy in the air. Conversations echoed like distant whispers through the halls, and the creak of heavy wooden doors sounded like the cracking of tree trunks in a deep winter forest. At the center loomed the grand hall, its gilded dome shining like a fiery sun.

    Naethan stopped, tilting his head back slightly, a mixture of awe and nervousness swelling in his chest. This was the academy¡ªthe heart of magic, the place where dreams were forged and nightmares born. Every stone seemed to scrutinize him, every tower a silent witness to his doubts. What if I¡¯m not good enough? What if all my effort was for nothing? The dome seemed to whisper back: Are you ready to face the truth?

    With heavy steps, he approached the grand hall. A long line of aspirants stretched to the massive doors, each presenting their recommendation letters before being admitted. When Naethan and Finn reached the front, the mage scrutinized their letters, nodded, and allowed them to pass.

    The inside of the hall was breathtaking¡ªa testament to magical craftsmanship. Massive columns, smooth as polished marble, supported the dome, their surfaces veined with fine lines that resembled frozen lightning. These were no ordinary columns; they seemed alive, like immense trees whose branches intertwined with the dome to form a magical canopy. On the dome itself was an impressive fresco¡ªa living story depicting the era before the Archmage revolutionized magic, when shamans performed rituals under open skies to appease the gods.

    Finn nudged him lightly. ¡°Look ahead,¡± he murmured, and Naethan tore his gaze away. But what he saw next made him pause.

    In the center of the hall rose an altar that looked more like a sacrificial stone than a sanctuary. Dark stone, stained crimson with ancient blood that could never fully be washed away. Time itself seemed unable to cleanse it. How many lives had it consumed? How many occultists had performed their dark rites here?

    ¡°Come on,¡± Finn said quietly, though his voice was tense. ¡°Don¡¯t stare too long. It feels like it stares back.¡±

    On the altar rested a glass orb, streaked with blue veins that pulsed like living lightning in the warm light of a floating miniature sun. Occasionally, small red sparks flared within it, as if concealing a secret Naethan couldn¡¯t grasp. It seemed to breathe¡ªa cold, quiet pulsing that filled the room.

    ¡°The Orb of Gorganthia,¡± Finn whispered reverently. ¡°A relic from ancient times. Since the gods left this world, no one has been able to replicate its craftsmanship.¡±

    He leaned closer to Naethan, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. ¡°They say it can peer into your innermost self and reveal your dirtiest secrets. Maybe even those little sins you like to keep hidden.¡±

    Naethan snorted, trying to ignore the unease rising in his chest. ¡°Oh, stop it. What can the orb actually do?¡±

    Finn¡¯s grin faded, his gaze returning to the orb. ¡°No one knows for sure,¡± he murmured. ¡°Some say it shows a mage¡¯s true potential¡ªwhat they can achieve in their lifetime.¡± He hesitated, as if weighing whether to continue. ¡°Others believe it reveals your deepest fear. Your greatest weakness.¡±

    Naethan swallowed hard. He wasn¡¯t sure which was more unsettling: what the orb might reveal¡ªor what it might not.

    He and Finn joined the line of aspirants forming in front of the altar. The orb rested in its place, surrounded by an almost tangible aura. A mage in an ornate robe stood nearby, his posture upright, his gaze sharp, monitoring every breath of those present.

    When Finn¡¯s turn came, he stepped forward without hesitation. With a confidence Naethan could only admire, Finn placed his hand on the orb. Immediately, the red sparks inside began to pulse¡ªa faint flickering that grew stronger with each passing second. A murmur rippled through the crowd as the lightning within the orb danced like living beings.

    Naethan heard sharp intakes of breath, and even the mage stepped back slightly, his eyes wide with amazement. ¡°Incredible¡­¡± he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. ¡°Potential of this magnitude¡­¡±

    Eventually, the orb released Finn, the red glow fading, and the mage regained his composure. With a broad, almost reverent smile, he said, ¡°Accepted! Welcome to the Towers of Valmor, young man.¡±

    Finn nodded curtly and turned, throwing Naethan a triumphant glance. ¡°Your turn,¡± he said with a wink. ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Naethan felt a knot tighten in his chest as he stepped forward. His heart pounded in an erratic rhythm as he stared at the glowing orb. Had it truly recognized Finn¡¯s potential? Or was something else at play?

    Hesitantly, he raised his hand and placed it on the orb¡¯s surface. But instead of a reaction, something unexpected happened: the time crystal in his pocket grew warm, a faint hum filling his awareness, and then¡­ nothing. No flicker, no glow. The orb remained still, as though it didn¡¯t even notice him.

    The mage frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°Boy, are you carrying a relic?¡± His voice was sharp and piercing. ¡°It is strictly forbidden for a student of the academy to possess a relic. Did your mentor favor you?¡±

    Naethan¡¯s mouth went dry, his thoughts swirling chaotically. ¡°I, uh¡­ no?¡± he stammered, his voice nearly cracking. His gaze darted to Finn, but his friend remained calm, as if waiting to see how the situation would unfold.

    Naethan could feel every eye on him¡ªa burning, piercing sensation that wrapped around him like a net. The mage, a man with gray hair and an intense stare, scrutinized him sharply. His robe, adorned with golden and silver runes, seemed to shimmer in the orb¡¯s light.

    ¡°No excuses, boy!¡± the mage snapped, his voice as sharp as a knife. ¡°I can sense the resonance of a relic. It¡¯s disrupting the connection to the orb.¡±

    Naethan¡¯s heart pounded in his throat. His hand instinctively moved toward the pocket where the time crystal lay, but Finn suddenly stepped beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Maybe he just has no potential,¡± Finn said with a casual grin that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s just too nervous.¡±

    The crowd began to murmur, and Naethan felt the prick of their gazes, like needles stabbing at him. The mage furrowed his brow and pointed at Naethan.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a question of potential,¡± he said coldly. ¡°The orb can detect even the faintest trace of magic. Something is blocking the connection. Boy, I¡¯ll have to search you.¡±

    Naethan froze. His mind raced, knowing he had no choice. The mage was clearly powerful, and resisting would be foolish. But Finn spoke again, his voice calm and controlled.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure this is a misunderstanding.¡± Finn stepped between Naethan and the mage. ¡°Maybe he just needs a moment to gather himself. He looks like he¡¯s about to faint.¡±

    The words had a strange effect. The mage hesitated, narrowing his eyes as he studied Finn. Finally, he nodded reluctantly.

    ¡°Very well. But only because you vouch for him, young man.¡± He turned his piercing gaze back to Naethan. ¡°You¡¯ll get a second chance. But if the orb is blocked again, I¡¯ll investigate this personally.¡±

    Naethan nodded hastily as Finn gripped his arm and pulled him away from the orb. Once they were out of earshot, Finn¡¯s relaxed demeanor vanished, and he glared at Naethan.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± he hissed. ¡°What are you carrying?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the time crystal,¡± Naethan whispered, his heart still racing. ¡°It reacted when I touched the orb. I don¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°Time crystal?¡± Finn¡¯s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing in thought. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing. But whatever that relic is¡ªit¡¯s clearly bonded to you. There¡¯s a way to shield its presence, but¡­¡± He hesitated before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s risky. Are you sure you can feel the crystal?¡±

    Naethan nodded slowly. ¡°Yes¡­ ever since it first broke, I¡¯ve always felt it. It¡¯s like a faint hum that never goes away.¡±

    Finn studied him with a mix of thoughtfulness and hesitation. Finally, he nodded. ¡°All right. Pay attention. There¡¯s a technique I know. You need to imagine pulling mana from your core and wrapping it around the stone like a cloth. Shield it, insulate it. It won¡¯t last long, but it should be enough to trick the orb.¡±

    Naethan frowned. ¡°How¡­ how do you know this?¡± His voice was wary. ¡°It¡¯s forbidden to teach magic to students outside the academy. Master Alaric told me that over and over¡ªonly the Towers of Valmor are allowed. He said the punishment for breaking that rule would be¡­¡± He trailed off, the word hanging heavy in the air. ¡°¡­draconian.¡±

    Finn avoided his gaze, a shadow crossing his face. ¡°That might be true. But sometimes, breaking the rules is the only way to survive.¡± He gave a crooked smile, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I have¡­ experiences that gave me this knowledge.¡±

    Naethan wanted to press further, but Finn cut him off with a dismissive wave. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for questions. Just do as I said, or you¡¯ll be exposed.¡±

    Hesitantly, Naethan closed his eyes and focused. The hum of the time crystal was familiar, but reaching for it felt like grasping at something invisible. Finally, he found the spark of mana in his core, a gentle pulse deep within him. Carefully, he drew a small amount of it out, envisioning it wrapping around the stone like a protective layer. It felt strange, almost like an instinct that was only just awakening.

    ¡°It¡¯s working,¡± he murmured at last.

    Finn nodded, satisfied. ¡°Good. Now try again.¡±

    With a final deep breath, Naethan stepped back to the orb. His fingers trembled as he placed them on its surface. This time, the orb reacted immediately¡ªred lightning streaked through its core, though it seemed muted, as if striking an unseen barrier.

    Then everything changed. The orb¡¯s glow intensified, and Naethan felt a brutal pull. His mana was being drained with an insatiable hunger, faster than he could stop it. His knees buckled, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain tore through his body. He tried to pull his hand away, but it seemed fused to the orb.

    Then he heard the mage¡¯s voice. ¡°Ah¡­ as expected. That¡¯s a potential hardly worth mentioning.¡± His tone was cold, almost indifferent. ¡°You¡¯ll likely never become a full-fledged mage. But the recommendation letter is valid. You are accepted.¡±

    Naethan stumbled back, his hand numb, a sharp ache pounding in his head. Finn was by his side instantly, steadying him as they moved away from the orb.

    ¡°You said it would trick the orb,¡± Naethan whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and frustration.

    Finn shook his head, his tone quiet. ¡°It did. But the orb is more powerful than I anticipated. It looks like it took more than I expected.¡± He paused, his gaze serious as it locked onto Naethan. ¡°Whatever that stone is¡ªyou need to be careful. And don¡¯t talk about it to anyone. Understand?¡±

    Naethan nodded weakly, though questions churned deep within him. Why did Finn know so much? And what was he hiding?

    As they joined the other accepted aspirants, the process dragged on. It felt like hours before the final candidate was finished¡ªand rejected.

    Naethan pulled another mana shard from his pocket, focusing on replenishing his drained reserves. The process was laborious, feeling like a small battle each time, but slowly his energy returned to his core.

    When the shard was finally empty, Naethan looked at the remaining shards in his pouch. There were only enough left for about three weeks¡ªif he used them sparingly. But replenishing his core after the orb test had already consumed a significant portion of his reserves.

    The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him. Every shard spent brought him closer to the point where he would run out of resources. And then? He would have to find a way to obtain more¡ªor risk succumbing to the void within his own magic and restarting again before even meeting the Archmage.

    The mage stepped before the group of newcomers, his posture stiff, his voice cool but tinged with a hint of approval.

    ¡°You should consider yourselves fortunate,¡± he began, his gaze sweeping over the aspirants. ¡°Last year, less than half of the applicants were admitted. Congratulations. You are now officially members of the Mage Guild. Use this opportunity wisely. Your success will honor not only yourselves but your teachers as well. Do not disappoint us.¡±

    He paused briefly, letting the moment sink in, then gestured toward the door. ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me, I¡¯ll take you to your quarters.¡±

    The aspirants followed him silently out of the grand hall. Their footsteps echoed on the stone tiles as they passed through a narrow corridor and eventually emerged into the open. The mage led them to one of the towers on the outer edge of the academy. It was smaller and noticeably less ornate than the others, its walls worn and the plaster crumbling in places.

    ¡°Here we are,¡± the mage announced, catching the group¡¯s disappointed glances at the shabby tower. ¡°The Tower of Valmont. Don¡¯t let the name fool you¡ªthis is the entry-level dormitory for first-years like yourselves.¡±

    A wry smile crossed his face before he turned and pushed the door open. ¡°Welcome to your new home. You¡¯d better get used to it quickly.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± the mage said, turning directly to Finn, his voice sharp and piercing, ¡°will need to come with me. Your result requires further testing.¡±

    Finn hesitated for only a moment, then nodded calmly. ¡°Of course.¡± He turned to Naethan, offering him a faint smile. ¡°Take care of yourself. We¡¯ll see each other¡­ eventually.¡±

    Naethan returned the smile, but deep down he knew ¡°eventually¡± might be a long time. As Finn left with the mage, Naethan felt a sudden emptiness. Something told him their paths wouldn¡¯t cross again anytime soon.

    The dormitory supervisor led the remaining aspirants to their rooms.

    The room was simple: two narrow beds, a wardrobe, a small desk¡ªnothing more. No carpet, no decorations, nothing that suggested comfort. The supervisor left them alone to show the other aspirants their rooms.

    Naethan glanced at his roommate¡ªa boy with golden hair and sapphire-blue eyes who regarded him curiously. ¡°I¡¯m Elias,¡± the boy introduced himself with a smile that hovered somewhere between confidence and shyness. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Naethan,¡± he replied, extending his hand hesitantly. Elias took it with a brief, firm shake.

    As Naethan inspected his bed, he noticed something: a quiet muttering, barely more than a murmur, coming from Elias. It wasn¡¯t loud cursing, more like a reflex slipping out from time to time. When Elias opened the wardrobe drawer and it creaked loudly, Naethan heard it again: ¡°Damn it.¡± Elias turned, their eyes meeting. Naethan must have been staring too long.

    ¡°What?¡± Elias asked, a spark of defiance in his eyes. ¡°Never heard someone curse before?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ yeah. Of course,¡± Naethan stammered, raising his hands slightly in defense. ¡°But¡­ do you¡­ do it often?¡±

    Elias shrugged, his movements casual, though Naethan caught a nervous twitch that accompanied his response. ¡°Tourette¡¯s,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°Sometimes stuff just comes out. Can¡¯t help it. You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    Naethan nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. But before the silence became awkward, Elias smirked and added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I only curse at people who deserve it. Most of the time.¡±

    Naethan couldn¡¯t help but chuckle lightly. ¡°Well, then I hope I don¡¯t end up on your list.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Elias replied with a wink, settling onto his bed and beginning to unpack his belongings.

    For a while, they worked in silence, the faint squeaking of the wardrobe and the rustling of cloth the only sounds in the room. Naethan let his gaze wander over the sparse furnishings before finishing with his own belongings. It wasn¡¯t much, but after the ordeals of the past days, it felt almost¡­ safe.

    As Elias finally yawned and flopped onto his bed, Naethan followed suit. He lay on the thin mattress, staring up at the rough ceiling. In his pocket, he could feel the faint pulsing of the time crystal, like a sleeping heartbeat¡ªa gentle but undeniable reminder that things were far from over. The next trial wouldn¡¯t wait long.

 Chapter 5: First Lessons

    The next morning, they were roused by a dull toll of a bell reverberating through the stone walls. Naethan groaned, turning onto his side to stare at the rough beams above his bed. The light streaming through the narrow windows seemed dim, as if the day itself had decided to be as drowsy as he felt.

    With a sigh, he sat up, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a mana shard. It had almost become routine¡ªhis first action every morning. The crystal gleamed faintly, but as Naethan placed his hand over it, he felt mana begin to flow into his core. It was faster now than it had been just days ago.

    Elias was already up, slipping on his robe. ¡°Good morning, Naethan,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Damn, you look rough.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Naethan muttered, running his hands through his hair. It was still a mess, and he could feel the tired shadows under his eyes reflected in Elias¡¯s mocking gaze.

    ¡°No need to be so touchy,¡± Elias quipped with a wink. ¡°Trust me, the teachers look worse.¡±

    After freshening up and donning a plain gray robe, Naethan followed Elias to the mess hall in the Tower of the Wood Class. Breakfast was simple but hearty: fresh bread, a slice of cheese, and a steaming mug of tea. Around him, Naethan noticed other students whispering nervously to each other. The first day of lessons was an exciting moment for everyone.

    With a pounding heart, Naethan followed Elias into the classroom. The desks were made of dark wood, and the room was dimly lit, with magical lights floating near the ceiling. While they waited for the teacher, Elias leaned back casually.

    ¡°Did you know there are six towers?¡± Elias asked suddenly.

    Naethan shook his head. ¡°No. It¡¯s hard to find out anything about the academy. Everything I¡¯ve heard makes it sound like one big secret.¡±

    Elias grinned and leaned in slightly. ¡°That¡¯s because it is. The mages don¡¯t want untrained spellcasters running around with half-baked knowledge and causing chaos.¡±

    He raised a finger, as if giving a lecture. ¡°The first tower is the Tower of the Wood Class¡ªwhere we all start. We stay here until we¡¯ve proven ourselves enough to be accepted into one of the other towers.¡±

    Elias counted on his fingers: ¡°There¡¯s the Tower of Staves, the Tower of Coins, the Tower of Chalices, and the Tower of Swords. Each one represents a specific discipline or focus of magic.¡±

    He paused dramatically before continuing in a quieter tone. ¡°And then there¡¯s the sixth tower. Very few students make it there. Its official name isn¡¯t known, but most call it the White Tower.¡±

    Naethan frowned. ¡°What¡¯s so special about that tower?¡±

    Elias shrugged, though his tone grew more serious. ¡°Nobody knows for sure. They say it¡¯s reserved for those with extraordinary potential. Or for those who¡­ are different.¡±

    Naethan felt a slight tension in the room. He wanted to ask more, but at that moment, the door creaked open, and the teacher entered.

    The door groaned on its hinges as a tall man in a simple black robe stepped inside. His face was lined with wrinkles that seemed less a sign of age and more the result of a strict, disciplined life. Without a word, he walked to the chalkboard, drew a glowing rune in one fluid motion, and turned to face the class.

    ¡°I am Master Renor,¡± he began, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. ¡°The fundamentals of magic are the foundation of your training. Here, there will be no tolerance for mistakes, inattentiveness, or arrogance.¡±

    The students fell silent. Naethan felt a tense stillness settle over the room. Even Elias, usually quick with a quip, stayed quiet and focused on his desk.

    ¡°Your first lesson,¡± Master Renor continued, ¡°is filling your mana core. A technique that must only be learned here, under my supervision. If you have already attempted this, know that uncontrolled attempts can be life-threatening.¡±

    A chill ran down Naethan¡¯s spine. He knew the rule well¡ªMaster Alaric had drilled it into him countless times. But the loops had left him no choice. He¡¯d had to learn to use the shards to survive. Now, under the watchful eyes of the teacher, that skill felt like a liability he had to keep hidden at all costs.

    ¡°There is a mana shard before each of you,¡± Master Renor explained. With a sharp gesture, shimmering crystals appeared on each desk. ¡°Your task is to sense the mana within and guide it into your core. Be warned: greed will be punished. Hesitation will leave you behind.¡±

    Naethan closed his eyes and placed his hand over the shard. The pulse of mana was immediate, familiar, almost soothing. But he knew he had to be careful. He couldn¡¯t let himself be too fast. His core filled within moments, but he deliberately slowed the process to make it seem less remarkable.

    Beside him, Elias muttered a quiet curse. ¡°I can¡¯t feel anything,¡± he grumbled. Naethan forced himself not to react.

    A sharp hiss sounded from the front of the room. A student yanked their hand away, smoke curling from their fingers. Master Renor was beside them instantly. ¡°You tried to take too much at once,¡± he said sternly. ¡°An overfilled core reacts like an overheated cauldron. Learn patience.¡±

    Naethan opened his eyes to see that his shard had almost fully dimmed. He had absorbed only a small amount of mana to avoid suspicion, yet even that seemed to have gone unusually fast. Master Renor paced the rows, his sharp eyes scanning each student until he stopped at Naethan¡¯s desk.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± he said softly. ¡°Your shard is nearly empty.¡±

    Naethan¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°I¡­ I was just trying to do what you said,¡± he replied cautiously.

    Master Renor leaned closer, his gaze piercing. ¡°Have you worked with a shard before?¡±

    ¡°No, Master,¡± Naethan lied, keeping his eyes downcast.

    Renor was silent for a moment before straightening. ¡°Hmm. Then perhaps you should be less hasty. An overfilled core is dangerous, and you are here to learn¡ªnot to impress.¡± He moved on without waiting for a reply.

    Naethan exhaled quietly. Elias leaned over. ¡°How did you do that so quickly?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°No idea,¡± Naethan muttered, feeling his hands tremble slightly. It wasn¡¯t an answer that satisfied Elias, but it was all he could afford to say.

    As the lesson continued and the students grew more adept at draining their shards, Master Renor announced the second exercise: creating a mana shard.

    Most of the students eagerly embraced the task, as creating mana shards was not only a valuable source of income but also an excellent way to train one¡¯s mana core. However, Master Renor emphasized the risks: every process¡ªwhether filling or draining a shard¡ªinevitably resulted in a small loss of mana. And that wasn¡¯t all. The shards themselves were finite. After several uses, they would crack and turn into worthless glass. It was a delicate process that required discipline and precision.

    For Naethan, the thought of losing mana was unsettling. Every drop was crucial for his survival in the loop. But he knew he couldn¡¯t draw attention to himself. Refusing to fill the shard would raise questions¡ªquestions he couldn¡¯t answer.

    So, he took the shard in his hand and closed his eyes. Filling a shard felt different from draining one. It was as if he had to tear a piece of himself out and force it into the crystal. He felt the faint pull as mana left his core and flowed into the shard. It was arduous, almost painful. But he endured.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    When he opened his eyes again, the shard glimmered faintly¡ªa sign that he had managed to transfer at least a portion of mana successfully. It wasn¡¯t much, just enough to maintain appearances. Master Renor passed by his desk, casting a critical glance at the shard before giving a curt nod and moving on. Naethan let out a quiet sigh of relief.

    Beside him, Elias cursed under his breath. "Damn, this is harder than I thought."

    Naethan smirked faintly. "Trust me, you''re not the only one thinking that."

    Elias gave a weak grin and pushed his own shard aside. "I guess we can always practice this later."

    But Naethan knew he wouldn¡¯t get another chance. Survival in the loop demanded that he use his resources as wisely as possible. He couldn¡¯t afford to waste another shard unless absolutely necessary.

    After explaining the fundamentals of draining and filling shards, Master Renor introduced a new, critical concept.

    "Of course," he began, running a hand over the shimmering shard, "there is an alternative method for replenishing your mana core. But it requires patience and discipline. The environment, nature itself, holds mana in tiny amounts. With the right technique, you can draw that mana into your core."

    A soft murmur rippled through the class. Some students leaned forward in fascination, while others seemed skeptical of the idea of pulling energy from thin air.

    "Replenishing through meditation, however, is no quick solution," Master Renor continued, his voice calm but firm. "It is laborious, time-consuming, and yields only a fraction of what a shard can provide. But it is safe¡ªand for those of you who must ration your mana carefully, it is an invaluable skill."

    Naethan¡¯s interest was piqued. Meditation. The idea seemed so simple, yet¡­ logical. Perhaps this was exactly what he needed to sustain himself in the loop without burning through his shards.

    "Sit comfortably and close your eyes," Master Renor instructed. "Imagine the world around you pulsing with a steady, quiet rhythm. Mana exists in the air, in the ground, in every breath you take. It is faint, but it is there. Focus on your core and slowly draw the energy into yourself."

    The students followed his instructions, and Naethan closed his eyes as well. He felt the faint pulse of his mana core, the barely perceptible hum of the time stone in his pocket a constant background presence. With each slow breath, he imagined tiny sparks of mana flowing into him from the air around him. It was a hesitant, almost imperceptible process, yet he felt his core grow ever so slightly stronger.

    "This isn¡¯t something you will master in minutes," Master Renor warned as he paced through the room, observing the students. "But with practice, you will deepen your connection to the environment. It may seem insignificant, but even a small drop of mana can mean the difference between success and failure¡ªor between life and death."

    Naethan opened his eyes and noticed Elias furrowing his brow in frustration beside him. "This isn¡¯t working," Elias muttered, his voice barely audible.

    "You¡¯re being too impatient," Naethan replied softly. "It takes time. Try again later when you¡¯re less distracted."

    Elias sighed but gave a reluctant nod.

    Naethan, however, felt oddly reassured. The meditation had given him more than he¡¯d expected¡ªnot much, but enough to slightly ease the relentless pull of the time stone. He realized that he would rely heavily on this technique to survive the loop. And it dawned on him that for the other students, this was merely a way to recover while gathering mana for shard creation.

    "Meditation is not only a method to replenish your mana but also to strengthen your mana core," Master Renor explained in his steady, authoritative tone. "Every time you draw mana into your core, you expand and fortify its capacity. But be warned: this process is slow. Patience is key."

    Naethan listened intently, though a nagging thought gnawed at him. He didn¡¯t have a choice when it came to training his core¡ªthe time stone forced him into it. The relentless pull, the constant drain on his mana, had been his companion through countless loops. But now, hearing Master Renor¡¯s words, a realization struck him: the time stone wasn¡¯t just a burden¡ªit was also an opportunity.

    While the other students paused their meditation to avoid overtaxing their mana cores, Naethan had no such luxury. The time stone drained his core even during meditation, compelling him to constantly draw mana to maintain balance. It was an unending exercise, one that no other mage could fully comprehend.

    "Sit comfortably and begin," Master Renor continued. "Feel the faint threads of mana around you. Let them flow toward your core. But don¡¯t overdo it. An overstrained core can harm you more than it helps."

    Naethan closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling. For him, overexertion wasn¡¯t an option¡ªthe stone ensured that his core was never full. With a deep breath, he focused, feeling the familiar hum of the stone. Its quiet, constant pull no longer felt entirely like a curse.

    The meditation began as usual. Naethan imagined the thin threads of mana drifting through the air, silent, invisible, and slowly flowing into his core. But this time, he noticed something new: the constant drain from the time stone forced him to be quicker and more precise. It was as though his core was learning to work more efficiently, absorbing mana with less effort.

    Beside him, Elias cursed softly. "Damn it, I can''t feel anything. It''s like the mana is running away from me."

    "You need to be patient," murmured Naethan without opening his eyes. His voice sounded unusually calm. "It''s like¡­ a net. You have to cast it slowly to catch the threads."

    Elias huffed but gave it another try.

    Naethan felt his core gradually filling, only to be emptied again by the time stone. It was a strange cycle, one that simultaneously exhausted and strengthened him. The master¡¯s words echoed in his mind: Every use strengthens your core. But for Naethan, it was more than that. The constant flow of mana through his core felt like it was shaping him, like water slowly carving a riverbed.

    When the meditation session ended, Naethan opened his eyes. His core didn¡¯t feel full¡ªit probably never would¡ªbut it seemed as though it had stretched, becoming firmer and more stable. An advantage the others didn¡¯t have.

    Master Renor strode through the rows, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing. "As I said earlier," he began, "meditation is a skill that grows with practice. Some of you have made progress. Others need to learn patience." His eyes lingered briefly on Elias, who shifted uncomfortably.

    When he reached Naethan, the master stopped and observed him intently. "Your core feels¡­ unusual," he said quietly, his brow furrowing. "Not empty, but not full either. It¡¯s as if it¡¯s constantly in motion."

    Naethan¡¯s breath caught, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I only did as you instructed, Master," he replied as evenly as he could.

    Renor nodded slowly, though his expression was unconvinced. "Interesting," he murmured before moving on.

    Naethan exhaled deeply, his thoughts racing. He would have to be more cautious, but deep down, he knew the time stone gave him an edge¡ªone no one else would understand. And that might be his only chance to survive in this academy.

    The meditation session drew to a close. Master Renor let his sharp gaze sweep across the students, nodding occasionally as he assessed their progress.

    "That will be enough for today," he finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the students. "Tomorrow, we will work on refining your abilities. Remember, patience and control are key. You are dismissed."

    Naethan sighed in relief. While the other students began packing their belongings and chatting quietly, he remained seated a moment longer to collect himself. The constant pull of the time stone had drained him, yet he could feel his core growing stronger.

    Suddenly, the door creaked open. A slender young man in a simple, dark green robe entered. His face was pale, and he was breathing heavily as though he¡¯d hurried. The room fell silent at once.

    "Who dares interrupt my lesson?" Master Renor asked coolly, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

    The young man bowed hastily. "Forgive me, Master Renor, but I bear urgent instructions." His gaze scanned the class until it landed on Naethan. "Naethan¡­ the Archmage requests your presence. Immediately."

    A murmur rippled through the students, and several turned to stare at Naethan. Elias whispered, "The Archmage? Why you, of all people?"

    Naethan felt his blood rush to his head. "I¡­ I don¡¯t know," he stammered, standing slowly. His hands trembled slightly, though he couldn¡¯t tell if it was from exhaustion or the sudden attention.

    Master Renor regarded Naethan skeptically. "The Archmage?" he repeated, letting the name hang in the air with weighty significance. "I heard about your evaluation, Naethan. They say your potential is¡­ limited."

    The murmurs in the room grew louder, and Naethan felt the weight of their stares burn into his skin. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to appear composed.

    "I don¡¯t know what he wants with me, Master Renor," Naethan replied, keeping his head bowed. But that wasn¡¯t entirely true.

    Naethan knew exactly why the Archmage wanted to see him. It was about the time stone¡ªthe valuable and dangerous artifact that Master Alaric had entrusted to him before he joined the academy. A secret that not even the instructors could know about. The Archmage must have sensed the stone¡¯s presence, and that made everything more complicated. Naethan couldn¡¯t afford to say the wrong thing or betray himself.

    Renor raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of curiosity and doubt. "Very well. Then go. But keep in mind: the Archmage has little patience for incompetence."

    Naethan nodded and followed the young man out of the classroom, the curious whispers of the students swelling behind him. He could barely make out Elias muttering, "What¡¯s so special about Naethan that the Archmage wants to see him?"

    The door closed behind them, and Naethan suddenly felt swallowed by the icy silence of the corridor. The young man led him wordlessly through the academy¡¯s halls, while Naethan¡¯s thoughts spiraled.

    Why now? Had something gone wrong? Had the Archmage sensed the stone? Or did he know Alaric had given it to him? The time stone was his greatest secret but also his heaviest burden. And now, the most powerful mage in the academy demanded it.

    Naethan clenched his hands into fists to steady his trembling fingers. "Do you know why the Archmage wants to see me?" he asked cautiously.

    The young man shot him a brief, assessing glance. "I don¡¯t," he replied curtly. "But you¡¯d better hurry. The Archmage doesn¡¯t like to be kept waiting."

    With a lump in his throat, Naethan continued to follow him through the stone corridors. The shadows grew longer as they neared the Archmage¡¯s chamber. Naethan could only hope he had an answer ready¡ªone that would both satisfy the Archmage and protect his secret.

 Chapter 6: Meeting the Archmage

    Naethan carefully entered the large, cool room. The Archmage sat behind a massive desk, a gaunt man with piercing gray eyes that made Naethan feel as if he were standing naked before him. The high bookshelves lining the room were stuffed with ancient texts, artifacts, and strange objects that emitted a faint magical shimmer. The only light came from a flickering spell floating above the desk, casting the room into an eerie, dancing semi-darkness.

    The Archmage lifted his head, his posture relaxed but his gaze demanding. ¡°You are Naethan,¡± he said with a calm yet authoritative voice that immediately filled the room. ¡°Sit down.¡±

    Naethan swallowed hard, nodded, and slowly sank into the chair opposite the desk. He felt like an intruder, a little boy carrying too great a responsibility. Does he know about the stone? The thought made his heart beat faster. Had Alaric prepared him?

    ¡°I know why you are here,¡± the Archmage continued, without taking his eyes off him. Naethan felt himself automatically sit up straighter. ¡°Felix von Rothenburg sent you.¡±

    Naethan blinked, surprised. Felix? Not the stone? ¡°Yes, Master,¡± he said hesitantly, gathering his thoughts internally. He had thought the meeting would revolve around the stone. Why did the Archmage mention Felix instead?

    The Archmage leaned back, his fingers playing with a small metal rune on the desk. ¡°He has informed me through magical channels that you have something important for me. Where is it?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Naethan stared at the Archmage for a moment before hurriedly reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the small, sealed package that Felix had given him. ¡°This. Felix didn¡¯t say much about it. Only that I should bring it into the city and someone¡­ someone would approach me about it.¡±

    The Archmage snorted softly, an expression of amused frustration on his face. ¡°Typical Felix. Always cryptic, always full of secrets.¡± He extended his hand, and Naethan handed him the package.

    The weight of the small box seemed to fill the room for a moment as the Archmage took it in his hand. He weighed it briefly before checking the seal. His fingers lingered for a moment, and he scrutinized Naethan with a sharp gaze.

    ¡°Did he tell you anything about the contents?¡± he asked, while still holding the package in his hand.

    ¡°No,¡± Naethan quickly replied. ¡°He was¡­ very vague. He only said that it was important that I deliver it to you.¡±

    The Archmage nodded slowly and carefully placed the package on the table without opening it. ¡°Of course he was. Felix loves his puzzles.¡±

    Naethan felt out of place, almost superfluous, as the Archmage examined the package. Yet something inside him urged him to break the silence. Should I now speak about the stone?

    ¡°Master,¡± he began hesitantly, his gaze briefly wandering to his bag. ¡°I¡­ I have something else. Something that Master Alaric gave me. He said you would know what to do with it.¡±

    The Archmage raised an eyebrow and looked at Naethan appraisingly. ¡°Alaric?¡± His tone was neutral, but Naethan felt a wave of skepticism. ¡°Show it to me.¡±

    Naethan carefully took the stone out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as the Archmage leaned forward to examine it. The Archmage¡¯s eyes narrowed as he inspected the inconspicuous stone, then he picked it up. For a moment, the room was silent, only the soft hum of the magical light could be heard.

    ¡°That?¡± The Archmage turned the stone in his fingers. ¡°This is what Alaric wanted to inform me about?¡± His tone was dry, almost mocking.

    Naethan nodded, his nervousness growing. ¡°Yes¡­ He said you would know what to do with it.¡±

    The Archmage shook his head, letting the stone fall back onto the table, and crossed his arms. ¡°This is an ordinary stone. Not a spark of magic. Why do you believe this is something special?¡±

    Naethan¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°But it¡¯s not! Master, I¡­ I have experienced things with it. It has brought me back¡ªthrough time.¡±

    The Archmage raised an eyebrow, his look skeptical. ¡°Brought back? Through time?¡± His voice was calm but tinged with mockery. ¡°Boy, time flows only in one direction. That is a fundamental law of nature. What you describe is impossible.¡±

    ¡°But it happened!¡± Naethan leaned forward, his voice trembling. ¡°I was in situations I could not survive. And then¡­ then I was back here. The pull of the stone, every time I die, it pulls me back.¡±

    The Archmage slowly shook his head. ¡°Listen, boy. Magic has its limits. It may bend the laws of nature, but it cannot break them. Time is irreversible. What you experienced was likely an illusion¡ªa trick your mind played on you.¡±

    Naethan stared at him in disbelief. ¡°This is no trick! It¡¯s real! I know what I¡¯ve experienced!¡±

    The Archmage sighed and let the stone fall back onto the table. ¡°If you believe that to be true, then it is up to you to prove it. But don¡¯t expect me to take the time to deal with fantasies.¡±

    Naethan felt hope shatter inside him. The Archmage, the only person who was supposed to help him, did not believe him. He felt alone, lost, the pull of the stone weighing heavier on him than ever.

    ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡± Naethan finally asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

    The Archmage looked at him for a long time, then shook his head. ¡°Whatever you believe you are experiencing with this stone, the responsibility lies with you. I have no answers for you. Perhaps¡­ you should learn to live without these illusions.¡±

    With those words, the Archmage turned around, clearly ending the conversation. Naethan was left alone, with the stone in his hand and the burden of finding the truth himself.

    Naethan stepped out of the Archmage¡¯s room, still slightly dazed by the conversation. His mind was full of thoughts tumbling over each other, and he was so lost in thought that he almost collided with someone. A white robe brushed his shoulder, and he looked up. Finn.

    But this Finn was not the one he knew. His hair was neatly arranged, his face clean, and the white robe he wore gave him an elegance that surprised Naethan. Finn gave him a brief, barely perceptible glance that was neither warm nor cold, just¡­ distant.

    ¡°Hello,¡± said Finn curtly, without stopping.

    Naethan opened his mouth to say something, but Finn had already passed by him, his movements fluid and sure. It seemed almost as if he hadn¡¯t really noticed Naethan. Odd.

    He stood for a moment, watching Finn head toward the Archmage¡¯s room and quietly close the door behind him. Naethan furrowed his brow. This was not the Finn he had met on the ship. Something had changed.

    Or had Finn always been like this, and Naethan just hadn''t seen it?

    Naethan walked through the spacious courtyard of the academy, his gray robe still feeling unfamiliar. The towers of Valmor loomed majestically into the sky, their pointed roofs almost disappearing into the clouds. The ground under his feet was made of smooth stone, adorned with intricate patterns that resembled runes. The air was filled with the sound of nearby waterfalls and the quiet conversations of students gathered in small groups around the fountains or on the steps of the towers.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    What immediately caught his eye were the colors. Students in robes were everywhere, but each group seemed to wear a different color: Red, Blue, Green, Yellow¡ªand of course, Gray like his own. The colors stood out brightly against the plain stones of the academy, and although Naethan did not know their meaning, he sensed that they must be important.

    A boy in a red robe ran past him, a folder under his arm, while he talked with a girl in a green robe. They laughed, bending their heads together, barely noticing Naethan. As he watched them, he noticed that the students mostly stayed among themselves¡ªred robes with red, green with green. It was almost as if the colors were an invisible barrier that separated the groups.

    As he continued walking, he encountered a small group of students in blue robes, holding books and scrolls in their hands. They seemed engrossed in a heated discussion and hardly noticed their surroundings. Another student in yellow sat on a bench, his face buried in a thick book.

    Naethan noticed that there were no students in white robes¡ªthe color Finn had worn. The only other robes he saw were black, and those were worn by the teachers. A woman in such a black robe strode across the courtyard with long, confident steps, a scroll tight in her hand. The students respectfully stepped aside, some even bowing slightly.

    Naethan couldn''t help but think of Finn. The white robe, the distance he had felt¡ªall of it now seemed strangely off. Was Finn the only student in such a robe? Why had he ignored him? It gnawed at him, but he had no answers.

    As he left the courtyard and headed to the class, his gaze once again fell on the colors. The robes must have a meaning¡ªperhaps houses? Or ranks? But now was not the time to ponder that. The class was waiting, and Naethan had too much to do to be distracted by such questions.

    <hr>

    Naethan entered the class, his mind still swirling from the morning''s events. The Archmage had given him no answers, and Finn''s strange behavior lingered in his mind. But as he entered the room, those thoughts briefly faded. Most students were already there, in their places, and the atmosphere was tense.

    ¡°Today we are learning the basics of telekinesis,¡± explained Master Renor with a voice that erased any thought of distraction. His strict posture made it clear that he tolerated no mistakes. ¡°Telekinesis is not a matter of raw power, but precision. Your goal is to direct Mana in short, controlled pulses. Without patience, none of you will succeed.¡±

    With a snap of his fingers, he made small pieces of aluminum foil appear on the students'' tables. Naethan stared at his piece, which glinted dully in the light of the floating magical lanterns. It seemed so light, so harmless¡ªyet he was sure it would be harder than it looked.

    He closed his eyes and drew Mana from his core, as he had learned when refilling the shard. The stone in his pocket reminded him that he must conserve his Mana. He still had shards for a month, but only if he did not use any Mana. And it looked like his supply would run out faster than he thought. With this concern in mind, Naethan took as much Mana as he could¡ªbut he was unpracticed.

    A surge of Mana poured from his core, uncontrolled, like a river bursting through a dam. Immediately, he felt the stone pull at him more strongly, as if punishing his mistake. The piece of aluminum foil was flung forward and shredded into small, silvery shimmering fragments in the air.

    ¡°That was not an attempt, but a waste,¡± said Master Renor sharply, without moving. With a brief gesture, he made a new piece of aluminum foil appear on Naethan''s table. ¡°What were you thinking? You are supposed to direct the Mana, not lash out like an untamed beast. Try again¡ªthis time with feeling, or you will never learn.¡±

    Naethan nodded hastily, trying to swallow the shame that rose within him. His heart beat fast, and the thought of failing again made his hands tremble. But the stone in his pocket felt heavy, almost like an invisible hand tugging at his reserves. How could he ever learn to truly control magic under these conditions? Perhaps the stone was not just a tool¡ªbut a curse.

    Again, he gathered Mana, this time slower, more carefully. It was like trying to thread a thin string through the eye of a needle. The piece of aluminum foil moved, trembled, and then slid a little forward. It was not a great success, but at least it did not shred. A relieved sigh escaped him.

    Next to him, he heard a soft whisper. Elias leaned over to him, his voice subdued. ¡°Hey, if you give me some tips later on how to efficiently refill those damn shards, I might lend you a few. You look like you could use some.¡± Naethan was briefly tempted to refuse the offer. But the words of Master Renor and the constant pull of the stone reminded him of how urgently he needed resources. He nodded slightly, without taking his eyes off his piece of aluminum foil.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± he murmured as he prepared for the next maneuver. The hour flew by, and Naethan felt the burden of his Mana consumption heavy on his shoulders. He had used up four shards¡ªso much that he would have had to use in two days at an inn. When he finally returned to his room, he immediately sank onto the bed. But instead of giving in to exhaustion, he sat up again with a determined breath. No time to waste, he thought as he sat down in a cross-legged position and closed his eyes.

    Naethan sat in his room, legs crossed, hands on his knees, his eyes closed. The meditation was urgently needed¡ªhis Mana core felt empty and strained, the shards he had used weighed on him like an invisible burden. The soft pull of the time stone in his pocket reminded him that he could afford no carelessness. Every drop of Mana he regenerated was a small victory against the endless hunger of the stone.

    The door creaked open, and Elias stepped in. ¡°Naethan, I hope you have enough energy left for our deal,¡± he said with a mischievous grin, flopping onto his bed. ¡°I''ve got the shards here.¡±

    Naethan opened one eye and saw Elias pull out five sparkling shards from his pocket, placing them like precious gems on the nightstand. ¡°So you''re really willing to give these to me?¡± Naethan asked as he slowly sat up. Elias nodded. ¡°Of course. You said you''d show me how to refill them. This is my starting capital.¡± He leaned forward, his eyes shining with excitement. ¡°You know, if I get this technique down, I can not only impress the guy from the Tower of Swords, but also start making a name for myself. Maybe I''ll become the Shard Guy here at the academy.¡±

    Naethan made a face. ¡°The Shard Guy? Doesn''t sound very honorable.¡± ¡°Oh, what do you know,¡± retorted Elias with a wink. ¡°It''s all about Mana here. Whoever has the resources has the power. And I don''t just want to get by in the higher towers. I want to make a splash.¡±

    Naethan looked at the shards on the nightstand and finally sighed. ¡°Alright. But listen closely. If you do the technique wrong, you''ll lose more Mana than you gain.¡±

    ¡°No worries, I''ll manage,¡± assured Elias, getting ready. ¡°So, how do we start?¡± Naethan pulled one of the shards towards him and explained slowly: ¡°First, you need to establish a connection between your Mana core and the shard. Imagine that the Mana from your core flows like a thin thread. You draw the thread through the shard and wrap it around an invisible anchor inside it. The key is precision¡ªnot too fast, not too much at once.¡±

    Elias tried it, but the shard immediately began to glow faintly before a crack shot through the crystal. ¡°Damn,¡± Elias cursed. ¡°That was too much.¡±

    ¡°Too much power, too little control,¡± commented Naethan dryly. ¡°Try again. And remember: You must imagine that the Mana flows gently, not like a waterfall, but like a stream.¡±

    Elias focused again, and this time the shard glowed faintly without breaking. A satisfied grin spread across his face. ¡°I did it!¡±

    Naethan nodded. ¡°Good. Now keep practicing. When you master it, we can talk about your deal. But don''t mess up¡ªif someone finds out you''re doing this, there will be trouble.¡±

    ¡°Count on me,¡± said Elias, beginning to practice with the other shards. Naethan leaned back, his eyes half-closed, and fell back into meditation. The day had been exhausting, but at least he now had five more shards¡ªa small ray of light amid the growing challenges.

    But as he ended the meditation and opened his eyes, he felt a gentle tug from his pocket. Puzzled, he reached in and pulled out the time stone. It lay cool in his hand, but something was different. The familiar, dull weight of the stone seemed to have changed.

    Naethan held his breath as a faint glow ran through the stone¡ªnot as bright as when he had first seen it, but still noticeable. The glow pulsed gently, in the rhythm of a heartbeat. His own heart began to beat faster. Could it be¡­ is the time stone collecting Mana? The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. And what happens when it has collected enough? Before Naethan could think further, the glow suddenly intensified¡ªand a soft, almost inaudible whisper pierced the silence. It was not a sound but a presence that seeped into his mind.

    ¡°Naethan¡­ time is running out¡­¡±

    Naethan froze, his gaze fixed on the stone. The voice was foreign, yet¡­ it sounded familiar. Deep and calm, with an eerie clarity that got under his skin. Then it hit him like a bolt of lightning: That''s Finn''s voice!

    His stomach clenched. How could that be? Finn was here, at the academy, and the stone¡ªthe stone was just an artifact. Or was it not? The connection left him restless. Before he could finish the thought, the glow of the stone flickered, and the voice spoke again, this time clearer:

    ¡°Naethan¡­ when the stone is full, it will be too late. The Archmage does not tolerate that¡ªQuiet, they are coming!¡±

    The light abruptly went out, and the room was plunged into oppressive darkness. Naethan sat motionless as the words echoed in his mind, like a warning from a future he could not understand.

 Chapter 7: The Whispering Ghost

    The next few days passed without any major events. Naethan continued attending Master Renor''s lessons, while Elias struggled to keep up with the other students. But Naethan wasn¡¯t faring much better either. The telekinesis exercises became increasingly difficult: Now they were supposed to move the piece of aluminum foil in smooth circles across the table. For Naethan, this task felt almost impossible. He barely managed to push the foil back and forth, but making it circle in a controlled manner was far beyond his abilities. It felt like trying to move an invisible arm that wouldn¡¯t obey him. All he could consciously do was feel the physical tension¡ªa constant battle against something that eluded his control.

    The persistent pull of the stone at his mana core didn¡¯t make things any easier. Since that strange night, the stone had not spoken to him again. All that remained was its faint, continuous glow. Naethan had no idea what it meant.

    He had tried to bring it up with Finn, but when he met him in the courtyard, Finn was deeply engrossed in a conversation with another student in a white robe. It almost seemed like he hadn¡¯t noticed¡ªor didn¡¯t want to notice¡ªNaethan.

    Even the Archmage appeared to have no time for Naethan or the stone. His attention was entirely focused on other, seemingly more important experiments. Whatever had been in the box that Naethan had delivered to him, it had completely captivated him. When Naethan tried to bring up the stone again, he was swiftly dismissed¡ªwith a coldness that made it clear he shouldn¡¯t expect any answers for now.

    However, Naethan had a small success to show for himself. He had been tasked with tidying up the library and was rewarded with shards. Although these weren¡¯t enough to fully meet his increasing mana demands, they at least bought him some extra time. The days passed, monotonous and without major events, and gradually the memory of what the stone¡ªor Finn¡ªhad said to him that night began to fade.

    Elias quickly made a name for himself with his mana shard dealings, especially among the higher classes. His popularity earned him additional lessons in the basics, allowing him to soon surpass Naethan¡ªdespite Naethan¡¯s experience with mana. The difference was clear: Elias had enough shards to practice, whereas Naethan did not.

    But there was a small glimmer of hope. Soon, exams would take place, offering shards as rewards¡ªdepending on how well one performed in the basics. Even the last-place finisher would receive at least a few. Rumor also had it that a ceremony would follow the exams, assigning students to different towers.

    The wooden class would then make room for a new group, as new students arrived every month. However, not many managed to convince the Sphere of Gorganthia that they were worthy of starting their training at all.

    Naethan fervently hoped that he wouldn¡¯t perform so poorly in the exams as to risk being expelled from the school¡ªrecommendation letter from Alaric or not.

    Naethan sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, hands resting gently on his knees. His breathing was calm and steady as he sank into the familiar depths of his meditation. The room around him faded, becoming a blurry backdrop as he turned his focus inward¡ªtoward his core.

    He could feel how strong he had become. The pulsating energy deep inside him was more powerful, steadier, almost like a heartbeat, reminding him that he was alive. And yet, there was still the pull. That relentless tugging that never ceased, draining him even in his sleep. It felt as if the time stone never truly rested¡ªas if it relentlessly drove Naethan forward on some invisible level, never granting him a moment¡¯s reprieve.

    He now needed four shards to fully refill his core¡ªtwice as many as just a few loops ago. It was progress, yes, but also a curse. For the stone took as quickly as it gave. The pull grew stronger, more relentless, the longer he remained in this loop. Naethan could already feel the consequences: Every morning and evening, he had to meditate to stabilize his core, lest he be drained before the next day began.

    Slowly, he opened his eyes, gazing at the pale glow of the last shard on his nightstand before reaching for it. His fingers trembled slightly¡ªa sign of the exhaustion that never quite left him. The shard felt cool, almost lifeless, but as he held it and focused his will upon it, a faint internal glow began to emerge.

    The mana flowed into his core¡ªslowly at first, then faster¡ªa steady stream that filled him. For a brief moment, Naethan felt a strange relief, almost as if he had regained control of himself. But he knew this peace wouldn¡¯t last. The stone in his pocket, that inconspicuous companion, would soon take back what he had just gained.

    Reluctantly, he set the shard down and closed his eyes again. Meditation was his only escape¡ªa fleeting refuge from the relentless cycle of the stone. In meditation, he could sense the mana in his surroundings, carefully drawing it in like casting a net to capture every single strand.

    The room fell silent¡ªalmost completely. Yet in that silence, the hum of the stone persisted¡ªsoft, almost imperceptible, but always there. It was like a shadow in the darkness, a constant companion that reminded him of time¡¯s relentless ticking.

    ¡°I can¡¯t give up,¡± Naethan murmured quietly to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. Every moment counted. Every drop of mana he absorbed was a small victory against the inevitable.

    His breathing grew deeper, steadier, as he focused entirely on the mana around him. It felt like a fine mist permeating the air¡ªdifficult to grasp, yet still tangible. With each breath, he drew it closer, shaping it in his thoughts into a flowing stream that poured into his core.

    For a moment, he was free¡ªfree from the stone, free from the burden he carried. But he knew this freedom was an illusion. The pull would return, stronger than before, and he had only a few shards left before he¡­ before he would be sent back to the beginning.

    Naethan slowly opened his eyes, feeling the last trickle of mana flowing into his core before the pull resumed its dominance. His core felt fuller, stronger, yet the time stone would never let him forget that he was always just one breath away from losing it all.

    He took a deep breath and stretched his hands forward. The room around him was quiet, but the faint hum of the stone echoed in his mind. It wasn¡¯t a sound he heard but a sensation¡ªa pull that never let go.

    ¡°How much longer?¡± he murmured quietly, his voice barely audible in the silence.

    Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Naethan flinched, his heart pounding faster. ¡°Who is it?¡± he called, hurriedly slipping the stone back into his pocket.

    The door opened, and Elias stepped in with a mischievous grin. ¡°Meditating again, Naethan? You really need to learn to take breaks.¡±

    Naethan frowned, trying to keep calm. ¡°Breaks are a luxury I can¡¯t afford.¡±

    Elias raised an eyebrow and flopped onto the bed across from him. ¡°That¡¯s what everyone who takes themselves too seriously says.¡± He paused, eyeing Naethan for a moment before adding, ¡°You look like you¡¯re running low on shards.¡±

    Naethan tensed. ¡°And if I am?¡±

    Elias shrugged and leaned back. ¡°Then maybe you should think about how to get more before you¡­ well, you know.¡±

    ¡°Before what?¡± Naethan¡¯s voice came out sharper than he intended.

    Elias grinned and pulled a shard from his pocket, letting it dance between his fingers. ¡°Before you need someone like me to bail you out.¡±

    Naethan stared at the shard, the hunger rising inside him. Yet the stone¡¯s words echoed in his mind: Time is running out. What would Elias demand if he accepted his help?

    ¡°What¡¯s the price?¡± Naethan asked, his voice quieter and more wary than he expected.

    Elias¡¯s grin widened. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    For a moment, he was free¡ªfree from the stone, free from the burden he carried. But he knew this freedom was deceptive. The pull would return, stronger than before, and he had only a few shards left before he... before he would be sent back to the beginning.

    Naethan slowly opened his eyes, feeling the last trickle of mana flow into his core before the pull regained control. His core felt fuller, stronger, yet the time stone never let him forget that he was always just one breath away from losing it all.

    He took a deep breath and stretched his hands forward. The room around him was still, but the faint hum of the stone echoed in his mind. It wasn¡¯t a sound he could hear but a sensation¡ªa pull that never left him.

    ¡°How much longer?¡± he murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, lost in the silence.

    Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Naethan flinched, his heart pounding faster. ¡°Who is it?¡± he asked, hastily shoving the stone back into his pocket.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The door opened, and Elias stepped in, a mischievous grin on his lips. ¡°Meditating again, Naethan? You really need to learn to take breaks.¡±

    Naethan frowned, trying to stay calm. ¡°Breaks are a luxury I can¡¯t afford.¡±

    Elias raised an eyebrow and flopped onto the bed across from him. ¡°That¡¯s what everyone who takes themselves too seriously says.¡± He paused, eyeing Naethan for a moment before adding quietly, ¡°You look like you¡¯re running low on shards.¡±

    Naethan tensed. ¡°And what if I am?¡±

    Elias shrugged and leaned back. ¡°Then maybe you should think about how to get more before you¡­ well, you know.¡±

    ¡°Before what?¡± Naethan¡¯s voice came out sharper than he intended.

    Elias grinned and pulled a shard from his pocket, letting it dance between his fingers. ¡°Before you need someone like me to bail you out.¡±

    Naethan stared at the shard, the desire in him growing. But the words of the stone echoed in his mind: Time is running out. What would Elias demand if he accepted his help?

    ¡°What do you want for it?¡± Naethan asked, his tone quiet and suspicious, even surprising himself.

    Elias grinned, but this time it seemed less mischievous and more calculated. He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if afraid someone might be listening. ¡°Well,¡± he began slowly, ¡°I told you about that upperclassman who¡¯s looking for a rare book, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    Naethan nodded. He vaguely remembered the story. Elias had mentioned it was an old, valuable tome¡ªone that usually didn¡¯t end up in the hands of students.

    ¡°I found out exactly where it¡¯s kept in the library,¡± Elias continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°It¡¯s in one of the restricted sections¡ªoff-limits to us students. But...¡± He let the words hang in the air before making his point. ¡°You work there. You have access.¡±

    Naethan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. ¡°Access, sure,¡± he said slowly, ¡°but always under supervision. The librarians never let me out of their sight.¡±

    Elias shrugged as if that were only a minor obstacle. ¡°You¡¯re creative, Naethan. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure something out.¡±

    Naethan crossed his arms and looked directly at Elias. ¡°You want me to steal it.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question but a statement, falling into the room like a guillotine.

    Elias held his gaze, the smile on his lips unchanging. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to call it... borrowing. But yeah, pretty much.¡±

    <hr>

    The following days dragged on, like pale morning mist slowly burned away by the sun. Naethan felt trapped in a rhythm of lessons, meditation, and the constant struggle against the pull of the stone. Yet Elias¡¯s offer lingered in the back of his mind¡ªa quiet whisper that wouldn¡¯t go away.

    In the library, it was different. There, he could focus for a few hours on the routines of order¡ªsorting shelves full of dusty books and scrolls that told stories of times long forgotten. The scent of parchment and wax filled the air, and the dim light of floating lanterns made the ancient shelves look like shadows in a labyrinth.

    Naethan stood at a long table, sorting a collection of old scrolls assigned to him by one of the librarians. Every movement was monitored by watchful eyes, drifting quietly through the aisles. He had grown used to working under observation, but today their presence felt heavier than usual.

    His gaze wandered over the bookshelves and settled on a heavy iron door at the back of the library¡ªthe area Elias had mentioned. That was where the forbidden works lay, accessible only to librarians and teachers. A set of keys jingled as one of the librarians walked past, checking the lock and casually sealing the door again.

    ¡°You¡¯re creative, Naethan. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure something out.¡± Elias¡¯s words echoed in his mind. Creative... but also subtle. He had to think carefully.

    A faint hum drew his attention back to the stone in his pocket. Even here, surrounded by the quiet presence of books, the time stone was a constant companion. It seemed to sense what Naethan was planning, reminding him of the urgency of his situation. Naethan felt the pull in his core¡ªsoft but relentless. It was yet another sign that he needed to act¡ªand soon.

    He straightened up, carefully placing the scrolls back on the table, and looked around. The librarians were busy, and the aisles seemed empty. It would be easy to distract them¡ªor quietly slip the keys away. But how could he make sure no one suspected him? And was it worth the risk?

    Naethan let his fingers glide along the edge of the table, feeling the cool, smooth surface beneath his hands. ¡°If I don¡¯t do this,¡± he murmured quietly to himself, ¡°I¡¯ll never have enough shards to survive.¡±

    Naethan sorted the last scrolls when he overheard a hushed conversation. Two librarians stood a few meters away, speaking quietly as they placed a heavy book on the shelf. His attention sharpened as one word rang out across the room: ¡°Poltergeist.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, I bet it was that poltergeist again,¡± one of the men muttered, sounding more annoyed than frightened. ¡°Always in the restricted sections. I¡¯m telling you, we need to report this to Master Renor at some point.¡±

    The other librarian chuckled softly. ¡°If it even exists. Maybe you should stop working so late at night. That haunting¡¯s all in your head.¡±

    Naethan felt an idea forming in his mind. A poltergeist¡ªor rather, the belief in one. His gaze wandered to the heavy iron door leading to the restricted area. If he could create disorder there, he might find an opportunity to act without immediately drawing suspicion.

    He waited until the librarians left, then closed his eyes and focused on his mana core. The time stone in his pocket pulsed faintly¡ªa constant reminder of his dwindling resources. Ignoring its pull, he concentrated and shaped a small burst of mana¡ªnothing big, just enough to set a few bookshelves in motion without making it obvious.

    He raised his hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he released the impulse. A barely audible hiss filled the air, followed by a dull crash. Books tumbled from the shelves, and a heavy tome slid off a table, landing with a loud thud. In the distance, he heard the faint clink of a chain rattling against the iron bars of the door.

    ¡°What the¡­?¡± One of the librarians cursed, cutting through the silence. ¡°Again! Damn it, I bet it¡¯s that poltergeist!¡±

    Naethan immediately bent over the scrolls in front of him, keeping his hands busy as if he¡¯d heard nothing. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to remain calm. Footsteps approached, and he felt the librarian¡¯s sharp gaze on him.

    ¡°You!¡± The man¡¯s voice was irritated. ¡°Looks like our little ¡®poltergeist¡¯ struck again. I don¡¯t have time to clean this up now. Take care of it! But don¡¯t touch anything you don¡¯t understand. And stay away from the sealed shelves, got it?¡±

    Naethan nodded eagerly, trying to look harmless. ¡°Of course, sir. I¡¯ll handle it.¡±

    The man turned and walked away with an exasperated shake of his head. Naethan waited until the footsteps faded, then took a deep breath. The restricted section was now accessible¡ªat least for the moment. The only question was how to make the most of this opportunity without arousing suspicion.

    Naethan carefully pushed the heavy iron door open, and a faint creak echoed through the restricted area of the library. The room was just as dim as he had imagined: towering, dusty shelves, flickering lanterns, and the soft crackling of ancient books filling the silence. He stepped cautiously inside, holding his breath as he listened.

    Suddenly, a loud crash sounded behind him. He spun around, his heart pounding in his chest. A shelf wobbled, and a few loose books tumbled noisily to the floor. ¡°Damn it!¡± he hissed, reaching instinctively for his mana core. The poltergeist? Or was it the pull of the stone?

    ¡°Oh, really? That was definitely you!¡± A voice rang out¡ªunexpected and mocking¡ªso much so that Naethan nearly knocked over another stack of books.

    Before him, a shimmering figure took shape, barely solid, like it was woven from mist. The poltergeist had no eyes, but Naethan could feel its gaze¡ªand its grin.

    ¡°You knocked that over! Not me!¡± said the poltergeist, drifting closer. Its voice was amused, as if it was thoroughly enjoying Naethan¡¯s shock. ¡°And then you blamed me. You know, that¡¯s pretty rude.¡±

    ¡°What¡­ what are you?¡± Naethan stammered, stepping back until his back pressed against a shelf. It wobbled slightly, and the poltergeist let out a theatrical gasp¡ªor what passed for one in its ghostly form.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just a harmless ghost,¡± it said, raising a misty hand as if to calm him. ¡°A completely ordinary poltergeist who just happens to be stuck in a dusty library. But YOU¡­¡± Its voice stretched, filled with dramatic flair. ¡°You¡¯re the real troublemaker here.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Naethan blinked, confused. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± The poltergeist crossed its translucent arms. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that your little mana burst that knocked the books off the shelves? I mean, I usually do that, sure. But this time? That was all you.¡±

    Naethan opened his mouth, then closed it again, clenching his fists. ¡°Okay, maybe that was¡­ partially¡­ my fault.¡±

    ¡°Partially?¡± The poltergeist laughed¡ªa deep, melodic sound that echoed through the library¡¯s aisles. ¡°Kid, you¡¯re so bad at lying, it¡¯s almost cute.¡±

    ¡°I needed a distraction,¡± Naethan finally admitted, his voice quieter. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a book.¡±

    ¡°A book?¡± The poltergeist floated closer, its wispy form rippling like smoke. ¡°A book! Now that¡¯s a new one. Most people sneak in here looking for secret rituals, forbidden spells, or the key to eternal life¡ªbut you? You just want a BOOK.¡± It shook its head, its form fluttering. ¡°Very original.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for someone else,¡± Naethan muttered, and the poltergeist suddenly fell silent. Then it shot forward so quickly that Naethan flinched.

    ¡°For someone else?¡± The poltergeist leaned in, its voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°That only makes it more suspicious. You¡¯re either incredibly kind¡­ or incredibly stupid.¡±

    Naethan sighed. ¡°Can you help me find it or not?¡±

    The poltergeist rested a hand on its non-existent chin, as if thinking. ¡°Hmm. I could. But where¡¯s the fun in that? How about a little guessing game?¡± It drifted between shelves, humming dramatically.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Naethan asked impatiently.

    ¡°Guessing!¡± The poltergeist chuckled and pulled a book from one of the shelves. ¡°This one?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Naethan crossed his arms. ¡°That¡¯s not even the right shelf.¡±

    ¡°Oops, my bad.¡± The poltergeist put the book back and repeated the process until it finally stopped at a shelf Naethan recognized.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ let¡¯s see.¡± It pulled out another book¡ªthis time a large, old tome with yellowed pages and a dark leather cover. ¡°This one looks important.¡± It held it up triumphantly. ¡°Am I right?¡±

    Naethan¡¯s heart skipped a beat. It was the exact book Elias had described. ¡°How¡­ how did you¡­?¡± he stammered.

    The poltergeist burst into laughter. ¡°That was easy! I knew I¡¯d be right. Honestly, kid, you¡¯re so predictable.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ you guessed?¡± Naethan asked in disbelief.

    ¡°Of course!¡± The poltergeist grinned broadly. ¡°I¡¯m brilliant at guessing.¡±

    Naethan grabbed the book, clutching it tightly. ¡°Thanks, I guess.¡±

    ¡°No problem, little thief.¡± The poltergeist floated upward, beginning to drift through the shelves again. ¡°Oh, and next time you cause chaos, at least admit it¡¯s your fault. We ghosts have a reputation to maintain.¡±

    Naethan shook his head, pressing the book to his chest. As he turned to leave, something fell against his back. He spun around and saw a scroll on the floor. The poltergeist hovered nearby, feigning innocence.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Naethan asked suspiciously.

    ¡°Oh, just a little gift,¡± the poltergeist said casually. ¡°You never know when a bit of old wisdom might come in handy.¡±

    Naethan picked up the scroll. It was old, its parchment worn and sealed with red wax. ¡°Why?¡±

    The poltergeist grinned widely. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I like your knack for stirring things up. And I love surprises! Good luck, little mage.¡±

    With a mischievous laugh, the poltergeist vanished into a wisp of mist, leaving Naethan alone¡ªwith a book, a scroll, and a host of new questions.