The sterile classroom hummed with a clinical energy, its smooth stone walls etched with spiraling runes that pulsed faintly, casting soft shadows across the gleaming tables. Alchemical tools, vials of shimmering liquid, crystal conduits, and rune-etched scalpels, glinted under dim mana-infused lights, their presence a silent reminder of the class's daunting reputation. The air carried a sharp, metallic scent of reagents, tinged with herbs, blending with the faint hum of mana that seemed to vibrate through the floor. Darius sat at his table, his training robes with blue wind motifs catching the runes' glow, his heart steady but racing with intrigue.