"Today's topic is Metahumans," Dr. Rose announced, her voice smooth yet commanding.
Without delay, her four arms moved in swift harmony across the board, markers dancing between her fingers. In seconds, a detailed anatomical sketch of a humanoid form began to take shape. One hand outlined the skeletal frame, another filled in the musculature, while the remaining two illustrated nerve pathways and vital organs. The precision was uncanny—clinical, almost elegant—like watching a machine with the soul of an artist.
"Metahumans," she continued, "are classified into various types based on the abilities they manifest after mutation. These mutations may be triggered by natural phenomena, genetic disorders, artificial genetic engineering, evolutionary leaps, or even intervention by entities beyond the limits of human comprehension."
"There are also bloodline-based Metahumans," Dr. Rose continued, her lower hands sketching symbols beside the anatomical figure while the upper ones jotted down classifications. "These individuals inherit Metahuman genes from their parents and awaken their abilities through the use of an Awakening Stone."
She paused briefly, tapping the board with the end of her marker. "Natural awakenings are rare and significantly more painful than those induced by a stone. While the process is harsher on the body, natural awakeners often develop a deeper, more refined control over their abilities as a result."
Turning back to the class, she added, "Despite being a distinct species from humans, Metahumans do not exhibit any obvious physical traits that set them apart. Visually, they are indistinguishable from ordinary humans. The only reliable ways to confirm someone's identity as a Metahuman are either through prolonged observation—specifically their slowed aging—or by using a Metahuman Analyzer."
"Miss, what triggers the activation of a Metahuman's ability?" someone from the front row asked, their tone curious but respectful.
Dr. Rose nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Good question. I was just getting to that," she said, turning back to the board.
With a swift motion, she drew a human silhouette beside the previous diagram, this time marking it with glowing dots at various anatomical positions. "Metahumans possess specific trigger points scattered throughout their bodies. These points vary depending on the type of ability they awaken."
She underlined each category as she explained:
"For transformation-type Metas, the trigger points are often found in their blood or within a particular organ directly tied to their altered physiology."
"Elemental-type Metas," she continued, circling the head and spine of the drawing, "tend to have trigger points within the nervous system or, more precisely, the cerebellum—allowing them to regulate and release elemental forces through conscious or reflexive neural activity."
Then, after a short pause, her tone shifted slightly—more serious. "Uncategorized Metas are a rare and unpredictable group. For them, the trigger point resides solely in their heart. The activation process is intense and dangerous, and their abilities often defy standard classifications."
"Wait… which of your hearts has the trigger point?" Sylvia whispered, leaning in with a furrowed brow.
"The left one, obviously," I murmured back, keeping my voice low. "But try not to bring that up around so many people, alright? If a biologist caught wind of my... unusual anatomy, they'd probably dissect me out of sheer curiosity."
Sylvia blinked. "You?"
I shrugged, flashing a small, sardonic smile. "Some cats just can't resist chasing the strangest mice... even if they are dangerous."
"Moving on," Dr. Rose continued, her tone sharp as she flicked to a new slide, now displaying silhouettes of monstrous figures mid-transformation. "Transformation-type Metas—and occasionally even Uncategorized ones—possess remarkably high regeneration rates. Their recovery speed is comparable to that of vampires during the night or werewolves under a full moon."
She paused, letting the comparison sink in before continuing. "However, unlike those two, Metas don't rely on a specific time frame to trigger this accelerated healing. That makes them significantly harder to capture—or kill."
A few students visibly stiffened as she spoke, and Dr. Rose's voice grew colder. "In extreme situations, they may even sever their own limbs to escape restraints, knowing full well that the appendage will regenerate within minutes… or even seconds."
She turned, tapping the screen with a sharp metal pointer. "That's why, when dealing with rogue Metas, we utilize genetic destabilizers—microscopic disruptors carved into specialized bullets. If one of these embeds itself into a core area of their body, the regeneration process stalls. And unlike regular wounds, these are… difficult to remove quickly."
A hush fell over the room—half awe, half unease.
"I'm glad Tommy wasn't here to note that down," Moriarty muttered, his voice laced with dark humor.
"Any hunter would find this part interesting," Sylvia added, her eyes still fixed on the board, tone quiet but knowing.
"It would've been better if I had a test subject," Dr. Rose sighed, her voice tinged with irritation. "But unfortunately, the academy doesn't permit that in the first class. Tomorrow, however, we might get to experiment on a few named convicts—so you can understand the subject more… practically."
With that, she flicked her fingers, and a glowing hologram bloomed to life from her Codex. The image resembled a nervous system, its delicate tendrils glowing faint blue—except for several warped, gnarled stems branching out from the spinal column, flickering with jagged energy.
"Trigger points," she said, tapping the distorted nodes on the hologram, "are the only physical markers of metahuman mutations. They don't show up anywhere else in the body. The issue is… you'd need to kill the person to find them—unless they're a transformation-type Meta. In that case, a sample of their blood might be enough."
A murmur passed through the classroom. Despite the clinical delivery, something about the topic had shifted the atmosphere. The unease was especially visible among the Meta students—shoulders stiffened, eyes narrowed, a quiet tension blooming beneath the curiosity.
Sylvia leaned closer, giving my back a light pat. "...Don't worry. I'll protect you."
"Worry about yourself," I replied with a smile.
"Well, since we can't progress further in this topic without a corpse or a live subject, you may all see yourselves out for now," Dr. Rose announced, closing the hologram with a sharp flick of her wrist. "Have a nice day, everyone. But Mr. Reinhardt—please stay back for a while."
Her tone left no room for argument.
The class rose in a wave of scraping chairs and hushed chatter. Some students hurried out. Others lingered for a moment, casting curious glances at Reinhardt before filing through the door.
I didn't pause.
But as we exited, Moriarty quietly deployed one of Wally's nanobots, letting it detach and adhere silently to the back of Reinhardt's collar—a shadow with ears.
"Worried?" Sylvia asked beside me, catching the motion even if she didn't fully understand it.
I kept my tone casual, but not dismissive. "A bit. He's my subordinate, after all." I glanced at the closing door. "Even if he is a demon, he's still my responsibility."