The tomb-like classroom pulsed with a restless energy, its stone walls etched with skeletal carvings that flickered in the bluish glow of sigils embedded in the floor, their light casting eerie shadows across the cold stone desks. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the soft crackle of small flames hovering before each student, their delicate glows a stark contrast to the tomb's oppressive hum. Darius sat at his desk, his training robes—blue wind motifs shimmering faintly—catching the sigils' light, his palm outstretched toward the flame, its wavering form demanding his focus. The nervous scholar beside him muttered under her breath, her flame flickering wildly, while Torin, across the room, grinned nervously, his flame dimming as he leaned closer. The stoic mage's flame held steady, her eyes narrowed in concentration, the class's shared struggle a palpable bond, their collective effort urging them forward as the tomb's hum intensified. Professor Bone stood on the raised platform, his tall, cloaked figure commanding, his hood shadowing eyes that glinted with charismatic intensity, his bone-white runes shimmering as he observed, his silence a test of their will. The sigils pulsed, the tomb's energy alive with suspense, Darius's vow to prevent a dark future burning steady, his ambition to surpass Lucien fueling his resolve as he faced the flame challenge.

Darius stared at his flame, its delicate glow wavering, its warmth absent despite its flickering light. He struggled to sustain it without fire magic, his mind racing to find the soul's rhythm Bone demanded. His earlier failure with the Anemoi Shades lingered, humbling him, the memory of Bone taming his shade into a solidified spirit a stark reminder of the gap in their skill. He tried to treat the flame like an element, willing it to burn as he would wind with his Zephyr form, but it flickered weakly, threatening to fade. A realization struck—the flame gave off no heat, no true fire's warmth. It wasn't an element; it was a spirit, a manifestation of will, like Bone's transformed shade. Darius shifted his approach, closing his eyes briefly, searching for his soul's pulse, a rhythm deeper than mana. He repeated a plea in his head, soft but insistent: Don't go out, stay alive, burn for me. The flame steadied, its glow brightening, surging upward with a soft flare that warmed the air, though not his skin. The sigils pulsed brighter, the tomb's hum deepening, and Darius's heart leapt, his success sparking a ripple through the class. The scholar's flame flared, her muttering stopping, while Torin's steadied, his grin widening. The stoic mage's flame grew, her eyes widening slightly, the room's energy surging as their flames responded, a collective breakthrough binding them.

Bone's voice broke the silence, warm and approving, his grin flashing under his hood. "Well, well, you're not all lost causes!" he said, his tone lifting the class's spirits, the sigils glowing brighter as the tomb's energy thrummed. "Some of you found your rhythm—good. Keep it burning." The class exhaled in relief, their laughter soft but genuine, Torin nudging the scholar with a teasing, "Told you we'd get it!" The stoic mage's lips twitched, a rare smile, as the students bonded over the shared victory, their flames flickering in unison. Darius's chest swelled, his flame's glow a testament to his ingenuity, his vow to elevate his magic burning brighter, the system's silent aid amplifying his focus. Elara's intensity flickered in his thoughts, her drive a quiet motivator, but he anchored himself in the moment, the tomb's hum urging him to hold the flame's spirit, its light a spark of his will.

Bone raised a hand, his cloak shimmering, and the flames of several students sputtered out, their glows fading into wisps of smoke. The affected students—three, including a wiry girl with braided hair—froze, their faces paling. Bone's tone shifted, firm but encouraging, his eyes glinting. "Those whose flames died, step forward—dismissed, for now." The students hesitated, the braided girl's shoulders slumping as she stood, the others following reluctantly. The class tensed, the sigils dimming slightly, the tomb's hum softening. Bone's grin returned, his voice teasing. "Relax, no one's getting the boot—yet!" The pun drew nervous chuckles, lightening the mood, the "dismissed" students pausing as Bone gestured them back. "Tell me, what was in your mind?" he asked, pointing to the braided girl, his tone probing but kind. She fidgeted, her voice hesitant. "I was… scared of failing, of being kicked out. I couldn't focus on the flame." The scholar nodded, her own flame flickering, while Torin rubbed his neck, his grin sheepish. Bone's eyes glinted, his tone philosophical. "Your mind shapes reality in this class—more than magic, it's your will. Fear, doubt, distraction? They're your deadliest threats. Control them, or they'll snuff out your soul's spark." The tomb's energy surged, the sigils glowing brighter, the class reflecting on their distractions, their flames wavering as Bone's words sank in, urging mindfulness in the face of spirit magic's demands.

The tomb-like classroom pulsed with a restless intensity, its stone walls etched with skeletal carvings that flickered in the bluish glow of sigils embedded in the floor, their light casting eerie shadows across the cold stone desks. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the soft crackle of the students' flames, their delicate glows flickering in their palms, some steady, others faltering. Darius held his flame, its spirit-like essence pulsing with his will, its glow bright but unsteady, the absence of heat a constant reminder of its otherworldly nature. The nervous scholar beside him clutched her tome, her flame flickering as she muttered to herself, while Torin, across the room, grinned nervously, his flame wavering but holding. The stoic mage's flame burned steadily, her eyes narrowed in focus, the class's shared struggle a tangible bond, their collective effort grounding them in the tomb's heavy air. Professor Bone stood on the raised platform, his tall, cloaked figure commanding, his hood shadowing eyes that glinted with charismatic wisdom, his bone-white runes shimmering as he paced, the sigils pulsing in rhythm with his presence. The tomb's hum deepened, urging the students to confront their inner barriers, the weight of Bone's lesson settling like a mantle over the room.

Bone's voice filled the space, smooth and philosophical, carrying a weight that drew every eye. "The mind is a double-edged sword in spirit magic," he said, his tone blending warmth with gravitas, the sigils flaring briefly. "It can elevate your spells, give them life, make them dance with your will. But doubt, fear, distraction—they'll cut you down, snuff out your soul's spark before it can shine." He paused, his cloaked arm detaching, floating lazily around the room, gesturing as if alive, the students watching in awe. "Years ago, I knew a mage, talented, brimming with potential. He faced a ritual to bind a spirit to a relic—a simple task, like your flames. But fear crept in, whispering he'd fail, and his mind faltered. The relic shattered, the spirit turned wild, and he never tried again." The tomb's hum deepened, the sigils glowing brighter, the story landing heavily. The scholar's flame flickered, her eyes wide with empathy, while Torin's grin faded, his flame wavering. Bone's floating arm pointed, his voice inviting. "What's held your mind back today?" The stoic mage spoke softly, "Overthinking—trying too hard to control it." A wiry girl, her flame extinguished earlier, added, "I was scared of messing up, like her." Bone nodded, his grin flashing. "Exactly. Your mind shapes reality—master it, or it masters you." The class engaged, their questions flowing, the tomb's energy surging with their curiosity.

Darius's mind churned, Bone's words striking deep. The anecdote echoed his own struggles—his failed Anemoi Shades attempt, his initial focus on the flame as an element rather than a spirit. The mind's power to sabotage or elevate resonated with Ignatus's philosophy of asserting reality, his Zephyr form and Anemoi Shades already extensions of his will. His vow to prevent a dark future burned brighter, the system's silent aid amplifying his focus, Elara's intensity a brief motivator in his thoughts. The flame in his palm pulsed, its glow steady as he repeated his plea—stay alive, burn for me—its spirit responding to his resolve. The lesson felt like a key to unlocking spirit magic, his ambition to master it surging like a gust of wind, the tomb's hum urging him to push past doubt. He imagined his spells infused with life, acting with purpose, elevating his magic to a new level, his vow to surpass Lucien a quiet fire in his chest. The sigils glowed brighter, their light casting intricate patterns across his robes, the tomb's energy alive with the promise of what his mind could achieve.

The class reflected on the mind's influence, their voices soft but earnest, bonding through vulnerability. The scholar spoke, her flame flickering. "I was afraid of failing again, like with the bones," she admitted, her tome forgotten on her desk. Torin chuckled, his flame steadying. "I got impatient, tried to force it to burn." The stoic mage's voice was steady, her flame strong. "I doubted I could do it without magic." Bone's floating arm clapped, the sound sharp, his grin widening. "Honesty's the first step—your mind's your tool, but it's also your trap. Be mindful, or it'll bury you." His tone turned motivational, his eyes sweeping the room. "Keep your focus, your will, your soul's rhythm. That's the spark of spirit magic." The students nodded, their flames flickering as they absorbed his words, the tomb's sigils humming with a warm intensity. Bone stepped back, his form reassembling, his voice ringing out. "Class dismissed—keep those flames burning in your mind!" The students rose, their flames winking out, the sigils softening as they filed out, their chatter lively with shared insights. Darius lingered, his flame fading last, his resolve renewed, the tomb's hum a quiet promise of future challenges. Suspense hung in the air, his ambition to master spirit magic burning steady as he stepped into the corridor, the weight of Bone's lesson fueling his determination.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.