The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the dorm's narrow window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards, where scattered scrolls and training gear lay in a haphazard pile. Darius stirred in his bed, the soft rustle of sheets mingling with the faint hum of wind-charged air, a remnant of his practice spells lingering in the room. The dorm was cozy, its walls lined with weathered oak, a cluttered desk crammed with books on elemental theory, and the faint scent of cedar and ink grounding the space. Kai's snores rumbled from the bunk above, while Aiden's quiet muttering—something about a fire spell—drifted from the corner, his bed already empty. Darius sat up, his training robes slung over a chair, their blue wind motifs catching the light. His body ached faintly from yesterday's training with Ignatus, the memory of grazing him with a redirected mana blast sparking a surge of pride. Using the island's natural wind mana had been a breakthrough, a clever twist that proved his growing ingenuity. His vow to prevent a dark future pulsed in his chest, a quiet fire that fueled his resolve to surpass Lucien, the system's silent aid a subtle undercurrent in his rapid adaptation. The Spirit class loomed ahead, its mystery tugging at his curiosity—a smaller, less familiar course, distinct from his elemental studies. Elara's focus flickered in his thoughts, her intensity a motivator, but he centered on the day's challenge, anticipation building as he swung his legs out of bed.

Darius dressed quickly, pulling on his robes, the fabric cool against his skin, the wind motifs shimmering as if alive. Kai stirred, mumbling, "You're up early, wind boy," his voice groggy but teasing, a grin breaking through as he tossed a pillow. Darius dodged with a chuckle, the motion fluid, a reflex honed by Ignatus's relentless blasts. "Gotta eat before Spirit class," he replied, his tone light but eager, the dorm's warmth a grounding contrast to the trials ahead. Aiden poked his head from the washroom, his dark hair damp, a spark flickering at his fingertips. "Heard that class is creepy—only a few students," he said, his eyes glinting with curiosity. Darius nodded, his mind racing with possibilities, the system's quiet push amplifying his excitement. The dorm's air stirred, a faint breeze swirling around him, as if echoing his thoughts on the natural mana he'd wielded yesterday. He grabbed his satchel, the weight of his books a reminder of his studies, and headed out, the wooden door creaking as he stepped into the academy's bustling halls, his anticipation for the Spirit class growing sharper with each step.

The dining hall buzzed with life, its high-vaulted ceiling echoing with the chatter of students and the clatter of trays. The scent of warm porridge, fresh bread, and roasted apples filled the air, grounding Darius after yesterday's grueling intensity. He slid into a bench, piling his plate with steaming oats and a drizzle of honey, his hunger a sharp edge that demanded attention. Around him, students animated the hall—a fire mage at a nearby table flicked sparks between her fingers, her laughter bright, while a water mage chatted animatedly, gesturing with liquid tendrils that shimmered in the sunlight. Darius ate steadily, his thoughts drifting to the Spirit class, its smaller size a stark contrast to the crowded elemental courses. The mystery of it piqued his curiosity, whispers of its tomb-like room and strange focus stirring unease and excitement. His vow to prevent darkness flared, a quiet resolve that intertwined with his ambition to surpass Lucien, the system's subtle nudge making the challenge feel within reach. Elara's focus sparked briefly, her relentless drive a mirror to his own, but he anchored himself in the present, the hall's lively energy a vibrant counterpoint to the eerie atmosphere he expected in class.

Darius leaned back, sipping tart apple juice, observing the hall's chaos with a faint smile. A group of earth mages practiced nearby, shaping tiny stone sculptures that crumbled and reformed, their laughter mingling with the hum of mana. Kai plopped down beside him, his plate heaped with bread and cheese, his grin wide. "Spirit class, huh? Bet it's all ghosts and creepy stuff," he teased, nudging Darius. Aiden joined them, his fire spark extinguished, his eyes sharp with interest. "Heard the teacher's weird—makes an entrance like no other," he said, his voice low, sparking Darius's curiosity further. The hall's warmth wrapped around him, the scent of bread grounding his thoughts, but the Spirit class loomed, its unknown nature a challenge that called to his ambition. He finished his meal, the last bite of porridge settling his hunger, and stood, his robes rustling as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. The academy's paths awaited, leading to the secluded wing where the Spirit class would unfold, its mystery a pull he couldn't resist, his resolve to master his magic burning steady as he stepped into the morning light.

The cobblestone paths wound through the academy's sprawling grounds, oak trees rustling in the gentle breeze, their leaves casting dappled shadows across Darius's training robes, the blue wind motifs shimmering faintly. The air carried the faint hum of mana, a reminder of the academy's pulsing energy, students practicing spells in distant courtyards, their laughter and bursts of elemental light flickering like fireflies. Darius's satchel bumped against his hip, the weight of his books grounding him as he navigated the familiar halls, his thoughts swirling around the Spirit class. Unlike the crowded elemental courses, this one was smaller, more secretive, its focus on spirit magic an enigma that sparked both excitement and unease. His breakthrough with Ignatus—using natural wind mana to graze him—fueled his confidence, his vow to prevent a dark future a quiet fire in his chest, the system's silent aid amplifying his anticipation. Elara's intensity flickered briefly in his mind, her focus a motivator, but he centered on the challenge ahead, his steps quickening as the paths led downward.

The air grew colder, the halls dimmer, as Darius descended into a secluded, underground wing, the academy's vibrant energy giving way to an oppressive stillness. Stone walls replaced polished wood, their surfaces etched with faint, skeletal carvings that seemed to shift in the flickering torchlight. The corridor narrowed, the hum of mana deepening into a low, resonant pulse, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone and ancient power. Darius's robes rustled, the wind motifs catching the faint glow of sigils embedded in the walls, their eerie light pulsing like a heartbeat. He reached a massive stone door, its surface carved with skeletal hands and swirling runes, the entrance to the tomb-like classroom. Pushing it open, he stepped inside, the air chilling his skin, the room's oppressive energy wrapping around him like a shroud. The chamber was vast yet intimate, its stone walls lined with skeletal motifs, glowing sigils casting a pale, bluish light that danced across the floor. Ten other students sat at heavy stone desks, their quiet anticipation creating an intense, focused vibe. Darius noted their diversity—a nervous scholar clutching a tome, a stoic mage with a staff resting beside her, a wiry student tapping their foot anxiously—each adding to the room's charged atmosphere. His unease grew, mingling with excitement, his thoughts on his mana growth and the unknown subject swirling, the tomb's hum amplifying his curiosity.

Darius took a seat, the cold stone bench grounding him as he scanned the room, the sigils' glow casting eerie shadows across his robes. The students' silence was palpable, their eyes darting to the empty front of the chamber, where a raised platform stood, its surface etched with intricate bone patterns. The air felt heavy, the mana's pulse almost tangible, as if the room itself awaited something extraordinary. Darius's mind raced, reflecting on Ignatus's lessons—asserting his reality, wielding natural mana—and how they might connect to spirit magic. His vow to surpass Lucien burned steady, the system's subtle nudge making the mystery of the class feel like a new frontier. The sigils flared briefly, the tomb's energy surging, suspense building as the students shifted in their seats, the air thickening with expectation. A faint rattle echoed from the platform, the ground trembling slightly, the sigils glowing brighter, their light casting skeletal shadows that seemed to writhe across the walls.

The room darkened, the sigils dimming to a ghostly flicker, and a low, clattering sound filled the air. Bones rose from the stone floor, pale and polished, swirling in a spectral dance, their rattles and clicks echoing through the tomb. They spiraled upward, twisting around the platform in a mesmerizing vortex, the air humming with a chilling energy. The students leaned forward, transfixed, as the bones coalesced, forming a tall, cloaked figure, its hood shadowing a face where twin pinpoints of light glinted as eyes. Professor Bone emerged, his presence commanding, the cloak's edges shimmering with faint, bone-white runes. The sigils flared, bathing the room in a cold, bluish glow, the air vibrating with his arrival. His voice, charismatic yet eerie, cut through the silence. "Welcome to Spirit class, where we'll strip magic down to its bare bones." A sly grin flashed under his hood, the pun landing with a mix of humor and menace. "This class explores breathing life into what should not have it, making the inanimate act with will. But to master life, you must first master death." The tomb's energy surged, the sigils glowing brighter, the students transfixed by his words, a cold shiver running through Darius as the professor's gaze swept the room, suspense hanging heavy in the air.

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