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—his 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—where 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—Master 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—not 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—whether filling or draining a shard—inevitably 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—questions 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.

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When he opened his eyes again, the shard glimmered faintly—a 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—and 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—or 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—not 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—the 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—it 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—the 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—it probably never would—but 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—one 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—the 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—one that would both satisfy the Archmage and protect his secret.