Lieutenant Hale, determined to help Angelo grow, pulled every string she could to bring in someone who might understand the strange nature of his powers. That man was Dr. Elias Grant—an eccentric but brilliant researcher, known as much for his radical theories as for his obsession with the unknown. He was infamous for pushing ethical boundaries in the pursuit of truth.
At first, Grant wanted nothing to do with Angelo.
"I'm not wasting my time babysitting a walking weapon," he said flatly. "I study anomalies, not ticking time bombs."
But Hale knew exactly how to tempt him.
"Think of how much data you'll get, Elias. Think of the breakthroughs. If you help him harness his powers, you might be the first to uncover what he really is. You could write the book on him. Hell, maybe even a dozen books."
That got his attention.
Hale escorted him to Angelo's room. The moment they stepped inside, they stopped in their tracks.
Angelo sat cross-legged on the floor, calm and focused. In his hands, something shimmered into being. Slowly, a knife took shape—not summoned from nothing, but constructed piece by piece. Metal particles gathered and bonded like they were obeying silent commands. Within seconds, the blade was complete.
Grant blinked. "By all the laws of science… how did you do that?"
He practically lunged forward.
Startled, Angelo offered a sheepish smile. "I got bored after reading all the books, so I saw a knife on the desk earlier. Got curious. I tried making one like it from memory. Took a few tries, but it worked—mostly. The balance is off."
"You made that?" Grant marveled, snatching the blade like it was a sacred artifact. "What is this even made of? You synthesized this with no tools?"
Angelo shrugged. "It's not perfect. Feels hollow inside. Like it's missing something real."
Hale raised a brow. "Wait—what do you mean, 'after reading'? I gave you five books. It's barely been an hour."
"I finished them," Angelo said plainly. "All of them."
Grant laughed. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," Angelo replied. "I memorized them. Want to test me?"
Hale narrowed her eyes and picked up a random book. "Explain Bernoulli's principle."
Angelo answered without pause. Word for word. She flipped pages, tried another book, then another.
Every time, his answers were perfect.
Grant's jaw tightened as he muttered to himself. "Perfect recall… comprehension… and now material reconstruction? He's not learning—he's absorbing. No… more than that. He's adapting. Evolving."
Hale crossed her arms, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Still don't want to help him?"
Grant's eyes were wide, fascinated. "I want to dissect his mind and build a university inside it. But yes—I'm in."
Angelo chuckled awkwardly. "Should I be concerned about that last part?"
Grant ignored the comment and extended a hand. "Dr. Elias Grant. Your new tutor, mentor, and favorite source of headaches."
Angelo shook it with a smile. "Angelo Walker."
The following days were intense—but not dull.
Grant bombarded him with books, diagrams, theories, and devices. To his delight (and growing horror), Angelo soaked it all up. He read with genuine excitement, asking questions faster than Grant could answer. Learning wasn't a chore to him—it was a thrill. Like unlocking hidden doors in his own mind.
"It's like a game," Angelo explained one afternoon, poring over a physics textbook. "Every time I understand something, it clicks. And sometimes, I just… know how to use it."
Grant stared. "You enjoy this?"
Angelo grinned. "Why wouldn't I? Every bit of knowledge feels like another piece of the puzzle."
He wasn't wrong. After reading about electromagnetic waves, he accidentally emitted a pulse that disrupted the lab's lights. After studying fluid dynamics, he manipulated a stream of water with eerie precision.
One evening, Grant stayed late, watching Angelo sketch in a notebook. The boy's face was lit with quiet excitement. The page wasn't covered in symbols or abstract scribbles—it was a detailed chemical formula.
"What's that?" Grant asked, leaning in.
"I was thinking about fire," Angelo said. "My fireballs are hot, but not hot enough. So I looked up compounds that burn hotter. Found one."
Grant read the name written at the top: Dicyanoacetylene.
"If I can recreate the molecular structure while forming the fire, I might be able to boost the temperature. Enough to overwhelm regeneration—even in something like a Watcher."
Grant stared. "You're talking about combustion enhancement… through mental synthesis. Do you have any idea how insane that is?"
Angelo finally looked up. "Not really. But it feels possible. The more I understand, the stronger I become. It's not just power—it's application. Knowledge shapes it."
Grant took a slow, reverent breath. "You're not just a weapon. You're a forge. Feed you the right ideas, and you'll build new ways to burn the world down."
Angelo's eyes sharpened. "Only the parts that deserve it."
And somewhere deep inside, the chaos stirred, pleased by how brightly the forge now burned.