Even though he was just a trainee police officer, his responsibility was to catch illegal crossers, the so-called mutants. But... he had no intention of exposing the other party at all.

He just had a bit of brute strength, while the other party... was clearly on a higher level!

After all, no matter how strong someone is, it's impossible to make a corpse go to school and read books like a normal person without being discovered!

So... mutants definitely aren't limited to just the "destruction" level.

No matter how strong, no matter how obvious their destructive power, compared to those who can set fires or flood places, it's still a notch below.

He exhaled, suppressing his racing heartbeat, and continued to look up at the sky.

At this moment, almost all the students in the school had come out. Besides himself and Emily Harris, there was no sign of anyone else—not even David Bolton’s shadow could be seen.

It seemed that even among the muscle-type contestants, even the mirrors looked down on them a bit...

With only two shadows, did that mean there were only three mutants in the whole school? The few who went crazy last night didn’t show up for class today.

They must have been controlled as well.

As for whether they were in the hospital or had been killed, it was hard to say.

Not all mutants are so lucky—some survive crashing into a wall, but others die even faster after doing so.

Just like a news story he saw this afternoon: a young man overseas was possessed during parkour, and then... lost control, crashed headfirst into a wall, and died on the spot.

During evening self-study, the people crowding around the deskmate finally got their fill and dispersed, leaving things quiet.

Looking at the table full of snack wrappers, David Bolton beamed with joy.

What, mutants don’t eat?

If you want me to share my mutant experience, sure! Bring me good food, otherwise, no way.

So, in just a few class periods, he became the kid with the most snacks in the whole school.

“William Carter, want some?”

He tore open a bag of fries, smiling at his deskmate.

“No thanks...”

Seeing the other’s mouth covered in oil, William Carter was speechless.

Could it be... this guy’s eating ability really mutated?

Because everyone’s attention was on the mutants and people were on edge, John Thompson, who was supposed to teach during evening self-study, announced another self-study session.

After reading for a while, his head started to ache and he couldn’t concentrate at all. He put down his book, just about to take another nap, when he suddenly remembered the voice that rang in his head after killing David Bolton’s mirror image at the hospital.

He hadn’t paid attention before, but thinking about it now—could it be that after killing an illegal invader, the other’s ability didn’t transfer to David Bolton, but to himself?

Not to mention setting fires or flooding places—even if his fingers could get thicker, that’d be pretty cool. He’d win every finger-flicking contest for sure!

As for eating...

Forget it.

He didn’t want to lose control of his figure.

Sitting at his desk, he took a deep breath, focused his mind, and checked his whole body... It seemed like nothing had changed.

Soon, he looked conflicted.

“The voice appeared in my brain...”

He had only taken the body-tempering serum, which made him a bit healthier, but he hadn’t truly mutated, nor did he have the spiritual sense or mental power from fantasy novels... Without X-rays, it was impossible to see if there was any change in his skull.

“Right, what about a mirror?”

If this thing could show what the naked eye couldn’t see, could it also help check what was going on in his head?

Thinking of this, he didn’t hesitate anymore and turned to his deskmate: “Stop eating, let me use your mirror!”

“What for?”

Unexpectedly, his usually macho friend wanted a mirror too. David Bolton was stunned for a moment, then noticed something off, squinting his eyes: “Wait... when did your skin get so good? Don’t tell me...”

William Carter’s heart skipped a beat.

Could this idiot have realized he mutated too?

After all, the nightmares he’d had for three years—others didn’t know, but this guy knew a bit.

“I...” He was about to explain when his deskmate leaned in and whispered, “Be honest, did you put on powder too?”

William Carter: “???”

Powder? Your sister’s powder!

Wait!

What does “too” mean?

The corner of his mouth twitched. William Carter looked closely at his deskmate and saw a faint layer of powder on his face... No wonder he always carried a mirror and acted so vain. Speechless.

He finally found an excuse to brush off the other’s questions. Only then did William Carter open the mirror and hold it up to his head.

The reflection in the mirror and his image in the sky were exactly the same: 360 dim light spots covered his skull. If you didn’t look closely before, you’d never notice them.

At this moment, it was as if one of them had been lit up, clearly brighter than the others.

What was this?

He looked around and, seeing no one was paying attention, let his police uniform slowly appear on his arm. He reached out and touched the bright spot with his finger.

“Boom!”

A roar sounded in his mind, and he felt dizzy. He didn’t know if he was dreaming or if his consciousness had left his body. In an instant, it was as if he’d entered a pitch-black room.

Then, he saw the light spot appear before his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, William Carter walked up to it.

Only then did he realize—it really was a mirror, about the same height as himself.