***
Ray's perspective:
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Paragon
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School of Metahumans
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After waking from our slumber, we washed up and made our way to the School of Metahumans, which was located a fair distance from our dormitories.
The classroom resembled a typical academy lecture hall, albeit slightly larger than average. It could seat over three hundred students comfortably. Considering that Paragon attracted metahumans, aliens, fishfolk, vampires, and werewolves from across the globe, even three hundred seemed like a modest number.
Werewolves, for instance, were a tribal people. Their numbers were comparatively fewer. Their ancestors had chosen not to pursue intellectual advancement, believing their primal instincts were what defined them—the apex predators of their kind. John may have lost that wild instinct under the influence of me and Alfred, but in return, he'd cultivated something else. A different kind of instinct. Sharper. More human. And potentially more lethal.
We took our seats near the top rows of the amphitheatre-style classroom. It was designed like a wide semicircle, each row elevated above the one in front, granting everyone a clear view of the instructors and the massive board at the front.
The back row was mostly empty. In the original story, Samuel used to sit there too—but I suppose something had changed this time around. Currently, he was seated in the middle section, surrounded by a few of Roger's friends.
Reinhardt, Risa, and John seemed like they were going to join us, but for some reason, they veered off and chose seats in the front-middle rows instead.
"What are those guys up to?" Moriarty muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched them settle in. They were close enough to keep an eye on us, but just out of range for casual conversation. It felt intentional.
Other students continued to trickle in, and before long, the room was nearly full. Just moments before the class began, Sylvia slid into the seat beside us.
"Congratulations on becoming a member of the student council," I said, my gaze fixed forward.
"Thanks. But why didn't you compete for it?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Syl, you already know I'm not fond of taking on responsibility for that many people. Sure, it would've given me a lot of authority, but it would've also eaten into my training schedule and study time. Honestly, I just don't find it all that appealing," I replied with a shrug.
"You're lazy," Sylvia teased, chuckling softly.
"It's—it's just a preference," I muttered, slightly flustered.
"You really chose a bad day to take over, you know?" Ryuk chimed in, and Moriarty nodded solemnly in agreement.
A soft hiss broke through the ambient noise as the classroom door slid open one last time. The silhouette of a sharply dressed man appeared in the frame. He was a frail-looking young man, likely in his early thirties, with curly black hair, warm brown eyes, and pale skin. A tailored grey suit hugged his slender frame, exuding an air of precision and professionalism.
"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to your first class at Paragon," the man said, stepping fully into the room. "I'm Dr. Ian, and I'll be your physics and homeroom teacher for this semester—and the ones that follow."
Though no visible microphone was attached to him, his voice carried effortlessly through the large hall, reaching every corner with perfect clarity. It had a crisp, steady quality—neither too loud nor too soft. Just enough to command attention.
"And I'm sorry to say," he continued, "but I'm a man of few words. I hope my brief introduction will suffice. I've already taken note of all your names, and I'm pleased to see that none of you decided to skip your very first class."
"So, without further ado, let's begin our first lesson," he paused briefly, offering a tight-lipped smile.
"He seems likable enough," Moriarty murmured under his breath.
Dr. Ian turned to the board and, without another word, began to draw. Two round objects appeared—planet-like in shape—with wave-like patterns rippling between them in a continuous motion.
"Today," he said, tapping the board with a slender piece of chalk, "we'll begin with an interesting topic: Zone Resonance."
He underlined the words with a practiced flourish before continuing.
"Zone Resonance is a phenomenon that has drastically altered the geographical structure of numerous planets. This began shortly after the advent of Dimensional Travel, which disrupted the natural frequency balance between worlds."
He paused, allowing the information to settle.
"This disruption didn't just shift landmasses or climates—it brought chaos. Planets sharing similar frequencies began to collapse into one another, forming what we now call Danger Zones."
He faced the class, his expression grave.
"These Zones claimed millions of lives in the early days, when we had no means to counter their effects. But in that tragedy, we also found opportunity. The unique properties of the Zones forced us to evolve—especially in terms of technology."
"But… why are these Danger Zones confined to a specific area?" Dr. Ian asked, turning to face the class. "Why don't they simply expand indefinitely? What restricts them to a single part of the planet?"
Silence.
No hands rose.
"Time," he said at last, answering his own question with a calm finality. "These Zones are governed by a time limit. They don't last long enough to engulf an entire world."
He returned to the board, drawing concentric waves around one of the earlier planets, then slicing through them with a horizontal line.
"You see," he continued, "the moment a Zone forms, the planet itself begins to fight back. It instinctively tries to stabilize. The natural frequencies of the world—its equilibrium—begin to resist the intrusion."
He paused and looked over the room, as if waiting to see who was following.
"This resistance limits the spread. The planet contains the anomaly by cancelling out the unstable frequency that caused the Resonance in the first place. It's not perfect, and it's not always successful… but it's enough to prevent total collapse."
"Now then," Ian said, clasping his hands together with a soft snap. "Let's talk about the alien life forms that get transferred over during a Zone Resonance."
He stepped aside from the board, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"Although a Zone Resonance can occur at any time, we can sometimes predict where it will happen—and how much area it might affect—by using frequency readers," he explained. "These devices help us evacuate civilians and secure the immediate vicinity."
He paused, letting the words settle, then sighed lightly before continuing.
"However, what we can't predict is the number—or the strength—of the alien life forms that arrive through these disturbances."
A faint murmur ran through the class, barely audible, as the weight of that truth sank in.
"As a result, there's no surefire way to prevent the damage these entities cause… unless we immediately deploy an energy barrier around the affected zone to contain them."
He turned and began writing on the board again, this time listing colored classifications.
"Currently, there are five levels of Danger Zones," he said, tapping each label as he explained:
"Yellow Zones – These are relatively stable and can be explored by D-Rank individuals and above."
"Orange Zones – More hazardous. They require organized groups of C-Ranks to ensure safety."
"Dark Orange Zones – Highly dangerous. Even B-Ranks may struggle here. Only A-Rank operatives and above are permitted entry."
"Red Zones – The second-highest level. Only S-Ranks are authorized to enter."
He paused for dramatic effect before marking the final category in a darker hue.
"Black Zones – The most catastrophic of them all. Only the Emperor's Second-Class Army is allowed to explore these. Anyone else… would be walking into certain death."
A hand rose from among the students seated in the middle rows.
"Yes, Mr. Ashcroft. Ask away," Ian said, leaning casually back against his desk, granting permission with a nod.
"Sir, didn't the First Shadow of the Emperor stabilize a Black Zone when he was just an S-Rank?" Samuel asked, his tone genuinely curious. The question hung in the air, a direct challenge to Ian's earlier statement.
Ian raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. "I believe you've confused this with History class," he said dryly.
A ripple of laughter spread through the room at Samuel's expense. But before it could grow louder, Ian cut it off with a sharp glance.
"But," he continued, "to answer your question: yes, the Shadows of the Emperor have always possessed extraordinary strength. Even in their youth, their combat ability far exceeded the official ranks they held. So no, Samuel, you're not entirely wrong."
He looked around the room, his expression stern.
"But let me make something clear. Do not compare ordinary individuals to the Emperor's Shadows. They are… anomalies—exceptions to the rules that bind the rest of us."
Ian straightened, his voice now firmer, cutting through the classroom.
"And as for the rest of you—don't laugh at someone for asking a question. I'm sure more than a few of you were thinking the same thing. If Samuel hadn't raised his hand, one of you likely would have."
Several students shifted awkwardly in their seats, avoiding eye contact as their earlier amusement turned to quiet shame.
"It's not a sin to be curious," Ian added, his voice calm again. "Curiosity is where learning begins."
"And that's all for today. If you have any more questions, ask me in the next class," Ian said, his voice cool and matter-of-fact.
He glanced at his Codex before turning toward the exit.
Without another word, without even glancing back at the sea of students behind him, he strode out of the room, his footsteps silent against the smooth floor.
"Did we have to note that?" Sylvia asked, breaking the silence, her voice low as she peeked toward the door to ensure Ian was truly gone.
"…Yes?" I replied, blinking at her in confusion.
She let out a long sigh before dropping her forehead dramatically onto the desk with a muted thud.
"…Sigh…"
With clear reluctance, she sat back up and pulled her textbook from her bag, flipping it open with the slow, defeated resignation of a soldier marching to battle.