The classroom, from the floor to the roof, and all the furniture too, was composed of polished steel-there were black soot marks over every surface. The sky outside was still clutched in pale-blue darkness. The sun had yet to rise, but still, class-schedule dictated that learning was to begin at the ungodly hour of pre-dawn. Shy of thirty would have been the total number of the students, if a third of them hadn't opted to skip orientation class. Though Liam didn't believe he was possessing of the acumen or talent to privilege himself such a luxury. "Magic in this world is built upon layers," the Professor addressed the class. He was a crimson-haired young man in his late twenties, with a wide mustache like a painter's brush. He didn't wear the scarlets of the academy, but instead wore sunflower-yellows. "I would argue that the natural laws of the world are, in and of themselves, yet another layer of magic. What is referred to as the natural sciences. If this we were to assume to be true-the natural sciences-we could consider to be the topmost layer. The first layer of magic.