It was early in the morning—at least for me—and the clock mocked me with its bright, unholy glow.

Eight o’clock.

Way too soon to be conscious. I’d just woken up from what felt like the shortest sleep of my life.

After Jade and I had wrapped up our investigation and questionable exploration of the underground auction site, we’d headed straight to Caleb’s place to meet up with the rest of the group. His place had unofficially turned into a mini-base for all of us. He never outright said he minded the invasion of his personal space—but knowing Caleb? If he did mind, he’d just grumble about it while making us coffee anyway.

Honestly, I think he liked it.

Being part of something bigger—something that felt heroic—seemed to light him up.

And it wasn’t just his enthusiasm.

The guy was so into it that he’d even roped in a few of his online friends—people I’d never met, but who he swore by—digging through the depths of HyperSpace for rumors about the underground auction. Knowing Caleb, they were probably conspiracy theorists or hacker types with way too much time on their hands. Still, it was more help than we’d had before. We stayed there until eleven o’clock, hammering out theories, sharing details, and watching him tinker with his endless collection of computer screens. After that, Jade and I finally left, but the night wasn’t over. Because we didn’t exactly use those next three hours for rest. Or anything productive. Instead, we embraced like we wanted to take as much from each other as possible before the world tried to rip us apart again.

And despite all the problems stacking up like a bad game of Jenga, if life had less of them? I’d scream it was bliss. By the time I finally made it home and collapsed into my bed at four o’clock, I was completely wrecked. I was wrecked in the best way possible.

And then, Eight a.m. hit me like a truck.

"This is why normal people have sleep schedules," I muttered to myself.

A text notification buzzed on my nightstand. I grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen.

Jade: Did you reach home safe?

Oh, I forgot to reply last night. She’d be worried, I typed fast before swinging my legs off the bed and planted my feet on the floor. I ran a hand through my hair and blinked blearily at the faint sunlight bleeding through my window.

I groaned as I scratched at my cheek, trudging toward the washroom like a sleep-deprived zombie. The cold splash of water on my face helped—a little. Just enough to stop me from collapsing back into bed and surrendering to the void. Freshening up didn’t take long. After a quick brush, I stood in front of the mirror, giving myself a once-over.

No black eyes. No bruises. No sign that I’d gotten into a fight with anyone—or with life itself.

A small victory. My hair, though? That was another story. It had gotten long. Naturally wavy, falling past my face in uneven strands like water pooling in messy ripples.

I blamed Jade entirely.

She’d once said she liked long hair—and though I normally didn’t care much about mine, she’d requested it. And that was enough for me to give it a shot. I wouldn’t admit it out loud—not in this lifetime—but now that I was looking at myself in the mirror, I had to admit…

It didn’t look terrible. Actually… it looked good. Almost too good, if I was being honest.

Was this the power of Jade’s influence? Was this how it started? One minute, I’m growing my hair out, and the next, I’m wearing rings and accessorizing like I have my life together?

No.

Not today. Once I was dressed in an oversized sweater and jeans, I strode downstairs. The house was quiet. Aunt Grace had already left for work, as usual, and wouldn’t be back until three or four.

That meant the whole house was mine. Which meant breakfast was my responsibility.

I sighed. Disgusting.

Still, I wandered into the kitchen, hunting for food like I was on some grand expedition. I yanked open the fridge. Stared inside.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Nothing had magically appeared, which meant I was officially out of luck. I drummed my fingers on the counter. Cereal? Toast? Last night’s leftovers? I squinted at a lone apple sitting in the fruit bowl like it owned the place.

“…Guess I could eat that,” I muttered to myself.

It was all perfect. Until the doorbell rang.

I froze mid-bite, glaring toward the front door as if I could scare off whoever dared disturb me. The one rule of my mornings—don’t interrupt me while I’m eating—shattered like glass. I clicked my tongue, muttering curses under my breath as I stood up and made my way to the door.

My perception shifted and I scanned the Likeness of the door as I approached, painting faint hues over the entrance. No danger. No urgency. Just an ordinary presence. A delivery, maybe.

Aunt Grace probably ordered something—something that just had to arrive while I was enjoying breakfast.

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open.

Instead of a delivery guy, Leo stood there, brows furrowed and expression sour. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and without so much as a greeting or permission, he brushed past me and entered the house like he owned it.

“Sure, come right in,” I muttered sarcastically, shutting the door behind him. “It’s not like I was eating or anything.”

Leo ignored me, his footsteps heavy as he stomped into the living room. “We need to talk,” he said curtly, turning to face me. His expression was serious, almost grim.

I raised an eyebrow, irritation mixing with curiosity. “You could’ve knocked and waited for an answer, you know.”

He ignored that, too, and I knew something was up. Whatever had brought him here wasn’t small talk or one of his usual complaints. Sighing, I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “Alright, what is it?”

Leo glanced at me, his jaw tight, as though he was debating where to start. Finally, he exhaled and said, “It’s about my meta nature. I think I’ve... formed it.”

I stared at Leo for a moment, his words sinking in. “You’ve formed it?” I repeated, the surprise in my voice clear.

It wasn’t every day you heard someone announce they’d crossed the threshold into becoming a metahuman. Slowly, my surprise turned into something warmer—a genuine happiness that settled in my chest.

“That’s huge!” I said, a grin spreading across my face as I stepped forward, patting his shoulder. “You’ve crossed the line, man. Congratulations. That’s no small thing, you know? When’s the party?”

Leo didn’t respond the way I’d expected. Instead of excitement or pride, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked at me with a sulking expression that wiped the grin right off my face.

The thought immediately crossed my mind: Maybe it wasn’t what he hoped for.

It was a common enough story. Not every meta nature was flashy, powerful, or even useful.

In fact, most of them weren’t. The majority of metas fell into the “useless abilities” category—powers that offered little more than party tricks or frustrations. And judging from the shadow in Leo’s eyes, I had a sinking suspicion his nature wasn’t what he’d dreamed of.

“It’s not what I imagined,” Leo muttered finally, his voice low.

The spark of happiness dimmed, replaced with curiosity and caution. “What do you mean?” I asked, my tone careful. “Tell me more. What group? What’s the ability?”

Leo shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting between me and the floor like he wasn’t sure where to start. I leaned back into the couch, giving him the space he clearly needed.

“Take your time,” I said calmly.

It was rare to see him like this—vulnerable—but whatever had happened this morning was serious enough to rattle him.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his messy hair before speaking. “It all started almost three weeks ago,” he began hesitatingly. “I woke up one morning and just… felt it. This weird itching, all over my body. Not like a rash or an allergy—deeper than that, like something crawling under my skin. It was that bad, but constant.”

“At first, my dad thought it was nothing. He figured it’d pass, but it didn’t. It got worse. So he took me to the hospital. They ran their tests—bloodwork, scans, the whole nine yards—but nothing came up. That’s when they referred me to the MMD.”

The Meta Monitoring Division. It made sense. They were the first stop for anyone experiencing the formation of a meta nature

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“They ran all kinds of tests,” Leo went on, his voice growing more animated, as though reliving the frustration. “Scanners, monitors, questions I didn’t even understand. I had to stay there for two days. Two whole days with wires stuck all over me. They even put something in my body—some device that would monitor my location from now on . Like, seriously, where’s my privacy?”

He scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. “Anyway, after all that, they said my meta nature was forming and my Meta Aspect was under normal. Everything was fine. They told my dad to stay calm and wait for the ‘good news.’ Like we were supposed to sit back and smile through it. They said symptoms vary depending on the type of meta nature you’re developing, so there was nothing to worry about.”

I listened carefully, watching the way Leo’s hands fidgeted against his jeans. His voice dipped slightly, quieter now. “Except for the itching, everything was fine for a while. It never went away, but I got used to it—mostly. And then…” He paused, his shoulders tensing as if the next part was harder to say.

“Then it happened today,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a whisper. “When I woke up this morning, everything was wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘wrong’?” I asked gently.

He looked up at me, his expression somewhere between disbelief and lingering horror. “At first, I thought the room had changed—like everything was suddenly bigger. The walls, the bed, even the damn ceiling. But it wasn’t the room.”

Leo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice unsteady. “It was me. I was smaller. Like—like I’d shrunk or something.”

I frowned slightly, processing his words as he pushed forward, his tone rising. “But then it got worse. Way worse. I turned my head, and I saw…” He broke off, his jaw tightening as if forcing himself to say it aloud. “I saw myself. My actual body just lying there on the bed, completely still. Silent. Like a corpse.”

He shuddered, his hands clenched into fists against his knees. “And when I examined myself, I was a freaking porcelain doll. I freaked out. I didn’t understand what was happening. I was standing on my own chest, North. Standing there—like I’d crawled out of myself. And there was this… this red hole.”

He motioned to the center of his chest with trembling fingers. “Right here. Small but deep, like something had tunneled its way out of me.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. His description was unsettling in a way I hadn’t expected, but I kept my expression neutral. He needed calm, not someone freaking out with him.

“By then,” Leo continued, his voice tighter, “my dad had already burst into the room. He saw me—both of me—standing on top of my own chest like some horror movie scene. I could hear him yelling, totally panicking, but what was I supposed to do? I was just as freaked out as he was! I didn’t know if I was dying, or dead already, or—hell, I didn’t know what to think.”

He took another shaky breath, as if trying to steady himself. “My dad ended up calling the emergency MMD line. We both just… waited. Him pacing around the room like a madman, and me—little me made up of porcelain—just standing there, looking at my lifeless body, too scared to move.”

“After about ten minutes or so, there was a knock at the door. My dad practically sprinted to answer it, and these three people from the MMD just... dropped into our house. Like they’d done this a thousand times before. Calm, professional—too calm, really. They didn’t say much, just opened up their suitcases and started unloading all kinds of machines.”

“You know those little scanners with lights? Those. Wires. Tubes. Pads. Stuff I don’t even have names for. They were slapping all of it on me—well, on big me, my body still lying on the bed. It was like watching them work on someone else, except that ‘someone’ was me.”

Leo shook his head, his voice tinged with disbelief. “It took them two hours, North. Two hours of silent testing, recording god knows what while I just stood there on my chest like some kind of ghost. My dad was pacing the whole time, throwing questions at them—‘What’s wrong with him?’ ‘Is he dying?’—but they didn’t answer him. They just kept working.”

I didn’t say anything, but the image he painted was unsettling—him standing there, doll-sized, watching as his lifeless body became the center of attention. I couldn’t imagine how surreal, how terrifying that must have been.

“Then,” Leo said, taking a steadying breath, “they told me to ‘focus’ and ‘clear my mind.’ Like I was supposed to just meditate while looking at my dead body lying there.” He scoffed angrily. “I don’t know how I did it, but somehow, I did. I quieted my thoughts. I don’t know if it was out of exhaustion or desperation, but... I managed.”

“And that’s when it happened,” he said, looking at me directly. “An answer popped into my head, out of nowhere. Like someone whispered it to me.”

“What answer?” I asked.

“Perfect Porcelain,” he said quietly, watching my reaction.

I frowned, the term clicking in my mind like a long-forgotten puzzle piece. “Perfect Porcelain? That’s a Hive meta nature.”

Leo nodded sharply, confirming it. “Yeah. How did you know?”

But he continued, “The MMD agents dug through their database the moment I said it. It’s rare—at least from what they told me—but it’s exactly what you said. Perfect Porcelain grants people... meta like dolls.”

Leo muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “But how the hell is someone supposed to know what their meta nature does? It’s not like it comes with a pamphlet explaining it. I thought forming a meta nature would be like—like unlocking a superpower. You wake up, and bam, you’re shooting fireballs or running faster than light. But instead? I get this.” He gestured at himself

I stayed quiet, letting him vent. He wasn’t wrong—most metas were left to fumble in the dark until they figured out how their nature worked.

“Anyway, we brainstormed for a while—me, my dad, and the three MMD agents. They were throwing out theories, asking me questions I didn’t have answers for. Like it was a group project. I was already feeling light-headed, like my whole body was just... coming apart. I kept thinking I’d crumble into pieces.”

“That’s when one of the agents suggested something… different. She told me I should try crawling back into the hole. Into my chest.”

My brows lifted slightly, but I didn’t interrupt.

He shuddered visibly. “At first, I refused. Who wouldn’t? That hole was… wrong. It looked alive. Small, dark, like it wasn’t meant for me. But my dad—he encouraged me. Said it was the only way to stop whatever was happening. And I—” Leo’s voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on. “I had to. I could feel my limbs going weak, like I was being pulled apart.”

He paused, swallowing hard, as if he could still taste the memory. “So I did it. I crawled in.”

I stayed perfectly still as he described it.

“I…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I climbed onto my body and… into the hole. It was small at first, but as I moved forward, it opened up more—like it wanted me to crawl inside. The space was dark, wet, and sticky. It felt alive. I could feel this pull, like something was waiting for me deeper inside.”

“Then I felt them. Tiny, hair-like tentacles growing out of my porcelain body. I couldn’t see them, but I felt them. They moved, pulsed, and reached for me. At the same time, I felt the hole in my real body—my chest—do the same thing. It was like they were connecting, like...”

“Like they were pulling you back in,” I finished for him quietly.

“Exactly,” Leo said, swallowing hard. “That’s when it happened. The moment the tentacles connected, I started feeling… anchored. Like I was being pulled back into myself. The darkness around me started to fade, and I suddenly felt everything again—my heart beating, my lungs filling with air—but it was different. Like I wasn’t really in my body anymore, just watching from behind a window.”

His hands clenched against his jeans again, knuckles going pale. “I’m still feeling it now. Even sitting here. It’s like my body isn’t mine anymore—I’m just the driver, staring out from behind the glass.”

I could tell by the look on his face that this was more than frustration—it was fear. His meta nature wasn’t flashy or conventional. It wasn’t something he could show off or easily explain. It was strange, unsettling, and—if I was being honest—terrifying.

“You’re not broken, Leo,” I said finally, keeping my voice steady. “Whatever’s happening, your meta nature is still developing. Abilities tied to Hive constructs are mostly straightforward. But then they're complex, Intricate Hive natures. They are powerful, like Perfect Porcelain.”

He glanced up at me, his eyes still shadowed with doubt. “Then why does it feel so wrong?”

“Because it’s new,” I said, keeping my tone steady and measured. “Your body and mind are adjusting to something entirely different. Don’t forget—you wanted something you could use to fight villains, and to enter the League of Legends. With this, you’ll have everything you need to achieve that. And hey, you should be grateful you didn’t end up with some useless meta nature like sneezing glitter, changing room temperature with your mood, or making your clothes fit no matter the size.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of Leo’s lips. My words seemed to strike a chord, and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “Yeah,” he said, nodding a little. “I have friends in school with abilities like that. They hate talking about it.”

“Give it time,” I added, my voice softening. “We’ll figure this out—together. You’re not alone in this.”

Leo exhaled deeply, his eyes finally meeting mine with a flicker of trust. “Thanks. That actually helps.”

I smiled back, but there was still a weight in the air. “When you’ve calmed down and feel ready,” I said, carefully watching his reaction, “I’d like to see your meta nature in action. No pressure, but if we’re going to figure this out, I’ll need to understand how it works.”

Leo’s gaze faltered, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d show you today, but... my dad’s taking me to the MMD branch in a few hours. They’ve labeled me a red alert.” His voice dipped, frustration evident. “They’re going to install some kind of safety and security system in my body—something to track my location in case I ‘pose a threat.’”

I frowned, keeping my expression neutral but feeling the weight of his words. “A red alert?” I repeated. “I guess that makes sense, considering what happened. Perfect Porcelain’s... unique. It’s not powerful in the traditional sense, but….It’s definitely something they’ll want to monitor closely.”

“How is that fair, though? They’re acting like I’m already a villain or something.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I get it—the danger, the risks. But still, it’s like they don’t trust me to control it.”

“It’s not about trust, Leo,” I said gently. “It’s about precaution.”

“They’ve probably seen powers like yours spiral out of control before, and they’re trying to prevent that from happening—not just for your sake, but for the public’s. When there are people out there with the ability to level entire cities in a fit of anger, the government has to do everything in its power to keep normal citizens safe, even if it means backlash.”

I paused, watching his reaction, before continuing. “You—and others like you—should already be grateful they haven’t locked you up in some secure facility, given the potential danger your ability poses. Right now, you might not seem like a threat, but once you begin to fully understand your meta nature, that could change. You might become very dangerous—whether you intend to or not.”

Leo nodded reluctantly, then glanced at me. “What about you? What’s your designation?”

“White,” I said simply.

Leo tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “White? What does that even mean?”

I leaned back slightly, folding my arms. “There are different designations for meta nature,” I explained. “Each one represents the potential risks or uses of someone’s ability. Red alert, like yours, is given to people with meta natures that could knowingly harm others—offensive or destructive abilities. It doesn’t make you a bad person; it just means your meta nature could be dangerous if used the wrong way. Make sense?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, still frowning but clearly paying attention.

“Green alert is for Bio-type meta nature,” I continued, “people whose abilities are focused on biology, restoration or protection. Think medics, surgeons, people who can repair damaged tissue or even boost someone’s immune system or some could even create new life forms.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds... useful and fin.”

“It is,” I said. “Then there’s black alert—those are the people whose meta natures are dangerous to themselves and others. Black alerts usually require constant monitoring because their powers are unpredictable or inherently unstable.”

Leo grimaced. “That sounds... rough.”

“Blue alert is the opposite—normal, everyday meta natures. Low-tier abilities that don’t pose a threat. Things like fixing folds in fabric, warming water, or making things glow faintly. They’re harmless, and the people who have them usually don’t get caught up in any of this meta politics. Most of the population falls in this category.”

“And white?” Leo pressed, leaning forward slightly.

“White is... different,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “It’s given to people whose meta natures are still a mystery. Abilities that aren’t fully understood, either because they haven’t been tested enough or because they’re... unusual. The system doesn’t know how to classify them yet, so it puts them in a holding category.”

Leo stared at me, his expression unreadable. “So, you’re a mystery?”

I shrugged. “That’s one way to put it. My meta nature doesn’t fit neatly into the categories they’ve built. It’s not destructive, not healing, not mundane. It’s... complex.

Leo stared at me, his expression unreadable. “So you don’t know everything your meta nature can do either?”

“Nope,” I said to curb his curiosity. Though I didn’t add that I also fell into Silver Alert.

Leo seemed to think about this for a long moment. “Are there any other designations?”

“Yellow alert,” I added. “That’s for people with meta-natures tied to knowledge, info or strategy. Think seers, people with super intelligence, or abilities that enhance memory or prediction. Then there’s purple, which is rare—those are meta natures that can influence emotions or mental states. Mind readers, dreamwalkers, stuff like that.”

“Purple sounds creepy,” he muttered.

“It can be,” I agreed, smirking slightly. “But every designation has its ups and downs. What matters is how you use it.”