The professor continued his lecture, his calm, resonant voice filling the hall with details of centuries past.
James, acting like the model student he tried to be, paid close attention—or at least as much attention as he could manage while absorbing the bizarre timeline of this world's technological advancement.
One thing immediately stood out to him: weapon technology had evolved at a terrifyingly faster pace than everything else.
During the era of American slavery, for instance, infantry units were already equipped with semi-automatic rifles capable of rapid fire, alongside early, primitive iterations of heavy rotary guns.
Yet, despite that military sophistication, if someone developed a simple kidney stone back then, the medical treatments available were still borderline barbaric.
Looking at it from a normal civilian perspective, the priority made zero sense.
Why push firearms technology into the future while basic living standards and healthcare lagged so far behind?
Now that James knew the supernatural world existed, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
It was a matter of sheer survival. Somewhere in the 1400s, a secret coalition of monster hunters or shadow organizations had likely accelerated military engineering just to keep humanity from being entirely consumed by night creatures.
He made a mental note to ask Caius about the exact history later; for now, his curiosity remained thoroughly piqued.
While James manually scribbled in his paper notebook, the surrounding students took notes using their neural cybernetic implants.
A sea of soft, translucent blue holographic screens hovered above their desks as their eye-chips automatically transcribed the lecture.
The more studious classmates, like Abby Croft in the front row, even had their ocular recording features active, capturing high-definition video feeds to review later.
It was a remarkably convenient tool—one James secretly envied—but the thought of getting surgery to place a microchip behind his own eyes made his skin crawl. He wasn't about to put electronics inside his body.
There were dozens of commercial and military-grade implants available on the market designed to make daily life effortless, though the high-end hardware used by armed forces was far beyond anything seen on a college campus.
A few seats over, Michael was also pretending to take notes.
In reality, he didn't need to study a single word—he had lived through the era.
Back in the 1860s, Michael had already been in his mid-thirties by human standards.
Human warfare had always been relatively boring to him, but it provided the ultimate smoke screen for rogue vampires to kidnap targets and feed freely.
When mortal armies were tearing each other apart, no one questioned a few extra bodies going missing in the mud.
The historical Hundred Years' War—the famous conflict that actually stretched on for 116 years—had been an era of pure, unadulterated bliss for powerful night-dwellers.
Periods of widespread chaotic bloodshed were precisely when vampires could amass immense power unnoticed.
Of course, Michael didn't care much for ancient power plays at the moment.
As a vampire, his raw strength naturally deepened as he aged.
Besides, he carried the bloodline of a noble branch family, and in vampire society, blood lineage was everything.
As the lecture came to a close, Professor Blackthorne stepped out from behind his podium.
"Do not forget," the professor announced smoothly, his clear voice cutting through the rustle of packing bags,
"you have an online unit evaluation due later today by precisely 11:50 PM."
A collective, quiet sigh swept through the auditorium as students nodded in understanding. James, on the other hand, froze in sudden panic.
He hadn't studied a single page of the recent material.
Before he could spiral, Blackthorne's icy eyes locked onto him.
"As for you, Mr. James, your requirement for this specific evaluation shall be deferred until your backlogged coursework is completed."
James let out a heavy sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders dropping instantly.
"Thank you, Professor," James said respectfully.
He quickly gathered his belongings, zipped his paper notebook into his heavy backpack, and walked out into the corridor alongside Michael.
As the two of them stepped through the archway into the bustling hallway, Professor Blackthorne stood quietly by the podium, his sharp, light eyes tracking James's departing back.
Earlier that morning...
Unbeknownst to James as he had left his residence for campus, a lone figure stood concealed beneath the shadow of a high-rise building a few hundred yards away.
Raising a compact, encrypted communicator to his mouth, the stranger spoke into the line with cold precision:
"Target located. Proceeding with observation."
Back in the present, Professor Blackthorne stood alone in the darkening lecture hall. He closed his eyes, leaning his weight onto his ornate dark metal cane, and exhaled a long, quiet breath of genuine relief.
He checked the face of his antique pocket watch, his expression guarded.
Human... he still smells entirely human, the professor thought to himself.
When James had walked into class earlier, Blackthorne had braced for the absolute worst.
Confirming the boy was alive and relatively unscathed lifted a staggering emotional weight from his shoulders; he wouldn't have been able to look her in the eyes if harm had come to the youth.
Calming his posture, the dignified educator smoothed down his embroidered trench coat.
The boy was safe for now, and that was all that mattered in the short term. But he would need to monitor him much more closely moving forward.
Next year was a leap year, and astronomical calculations predicted the appearance of a rare Blue Moon—a time of intense supernatural instability.
He could not afford to leave the hybrid unguarded.
Meanwhile, completely oblivious to his teacher's heavy inner turmoil, James walked with Michael down the breezy outdoor walkway heading toward the campus gymnasium.
"Man... my brain feels like it just went through a heavy-duty meat grinder," James groaned, reaching up to rub the aching muscles at the back of his neck.
"And I still have Advanced Mathematics right after this. Today is going to be an absolute nightmare."
Michael, strolling casually beside him with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark trench coat, looked like he didn't have a single care in the world.
"Look on the bright side, Master—at least you were granted proper grace time to catch up," Michael purred teasingly.
James's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening at the term. "Shush with that 'master' stuff. It's getting on my last nerve."
He held out his hand demanding. "Also, hand over your history notes. I need to copy everything."
"As you wish," Michael replied smoothly, retrieving a slim digital data drive from his coat pocket and dropping it into James's palm.
James checked the course portal on his phone and winced. "Fifteen missed assignments... I am so extraordinarily cooked."
"You will manage," Michael said, looking immensely entertained by his friend's suffering.
"Easy for you to say! You're not the one drowning in a month's worth of missed homework!"
Michael offered a bright, entirely unbothered smile. "You still have an hour before your next lecture begins. That is more than enough time to begin your frantic scribbling."
James groaned again, clutching the data drive tightly. He had a massive mountain of work ahead of him, and the day was only getting started.
Arriving at the cafeteria, James paused, blinking as he looked around.
He hadn't even realized they had walked all the way over here.
The campus dining hall was absolute bedlam.
Heavy wooden tables were packed tight with students, the ambient air a loud storm of clattering trays, laughing, and overlapping conversations.
In the corner, a group of freshmen was loudly arguing about their midterms, while a pair of guys at a high-top table debated the latest competitive balance patch for a popular online fighter.
The wide food courts offered everything from a greasy fast-food grill spitting out smash burgers and golden fries to a sushi bar, a deli line, and a hot bar serving mystery casseroles.
"So, big back, what are you eating?" Michael asked, a lazy smirk gracing his features.
James shot his friend an annoyed glare. "I do not eat that much." He genuinely felt like punching Michael right in his smug face.
"You ate more than me to begin with," James said dryly.
"Maybe before, but now you probably eat more than a horse," Michael countered under his breath.
He remembered sitting back at the pack base and single-handedly devouring a massive mountain of seared meat.
His appetite had shot through the roof lately. Speaking of which, he didn't feel terribly hungry right now, so he assumed his body was still running off those dense energetic reserves.
What baffled him even more was that despite inhaling all those calories, he hadn't gained a single pound of unwanted fat.
Add that to the endless list of questions for Caius once I figure out how to get back, he thought dryly.
"Is it a crime to like meat?" James muttered, only to instantly realize his terrible mistake the second the words left his mouth.
He saw the wicked, unhinged gleam flash in Michael's eyes.
"Don't even try it," James snapped, cutting him off before the vampire could launch into another wild line of banter.
Michael put his hands up, looking completely heartbroken. "You are so mean, you know that?"
James ignored him. As long as Michael wasn't running his mouth with unhinged commentary, everything was fine.
Stepping up to the hot food station, James grabbed a tray and began selecting his items.
He went straight for a thick slice of extra-cheesy pepperoni pizza and a side basket of seasoned fries—classic comfort food to get him through the rest of the day.
Michael, meanwhile, casually bypassed the food entirely and poured himself a dark, steaming cup of black espresso from the high-end coffee bar, because of course he did.
When they reached the checkout registers, Michael simply walked right past the cashier without a care in the world. James pulled out his phone, unlocking the screen to pull up Apple Pay.
The tired-looking student working the register scanned the tray. "Let's see... fries and a slice of cheese pizza. That'll be nine dollars and fifty cents."
James glanced at his tray, paused, and then turned to grab a cold bottle of Pepsi from the display cooler, sliding it onto the counter next to his plate.
The cashier tapped the screen again. "That brings it to twelve dollars and fifty cents."
James winced internally. Jeez, paying three extra bucks just for a soda? College campus food prices are an absolute scam.
DING
The digital reader chimed, confirming the payment. James grabbed his tray, snagged a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser, and waded through the crowded dining room toward an empty booth.
Michael was already sitting there comfortably, leaning back against the vinyl seat as he took a slow sip of his black coffee.
As for why Michael hadn't paid a single cent? Simple: his ancient vampire family was literally the largest private financial donor to the entire university. Michael essentially had an unlimited free pass to everything on campus.
He could probably get half the faculty fired on a whim if he felt like it—the guy held a ridiculous amount of power in this school.
Thankfully, he was far too lazy to actually use it for anything serious.
The two friends settled into the booth and began eating—or rather, James inhaled his slice of pepperoni pizza while Michael casually sipped his black coffee, watching the chaotic lunchtime crowd.
Around them, the dining hall buzzed with noise.
The clinking of silverware, the hum of fluorescent lighting overhead, and the distant hiss of the espresso machine blended into a steady background roar.
A few tables over, a group of nursing majors was furiously studying flashcards, while a guy near the tray-return station accidentally dropped his soda, drawing a chorus of ironic applause from nearby freshmen.
James took a large bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully as he watched Michael cradling the hot ceramic mug.
Now fully aware of his friend's true nature as an ancient vampire, James couldn't help but wonder if the undead even derived any actual sustenance from human food.
"Does coffee even do anything for you?" James asked, dabbing grease from his chin with a paper napkin.
Michael tilted his mug, letting a soft swirl of steam rise between them.
"It's quite delicious, actually. Plus, it keeps my core temperature somewhat acceptable in these air-conditioned rooms."
James raised a skeptical eyebrow. "As if you actually need the warmth."
"Hey now. You have a literal coat of supernatural fur built into your DNA—I have dark roast espresso," Michael replied smoothly.
James didn't currently have his wolf form active, but he let the logic slide. Whatever kept the vampire's world turning.
Michael leaned back against the red vinyl seat, his bright blue eyes narrowing with a familiar, dangerous playfulness.
"Besides, if you are truly curious about the gifts of a superior species—"
James let out a heavy groan, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Continue down that path and you're going to start sounding like an actual aristocrat supremacist."
Michael looked mildly offended, crossing his arms. "You really take all the fun out of a simple conversation."
James shrugged, completely unbothered as he reached for a handful of fries.
"Just calling it like I see it." He paused, leaning forward across the table, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
"Anyway, what are the actual perks of being a vampire? Aside from the boosted physical stats, obviously."
Michael's demeanor shifted instantly, delighted to have an attentive audience.
"Well, apart from the obvious strength and agility enhancements, we possess a few specialized traits."
James was all ears. "Like what?"
"Low-light vision, for starters," Michael offered.
"Already got that," James dismissed casually.
His hybrid night vision was entirely passive; the moment ambient light dropped past a certain threshold, his pupils would dilate in a split-second flash, granting him perfect clarity in the dark.
Michael tried again. "Thermal perception?"
James yawned, tossing another fry into his mouth. "Got that too."
Michael let out a soft, theatrical sigh, resting his chin on his gloved hand.
"Yes, fine, our bloodlines share a great deal of overlapping predatory traits. However... I can see the precise pathway of your blood vessels right now."
James stopped chewing, looking up sharply. That was definitely new.
Michael's smile widened upon seeing James's genuine interest. What James didn't realize was that Michael's mind was actively working behind the scenes.
Because James had been infected for less than a full year, he was still within the magical grace period where his underlying beast strain could technically be overwritten.
Michael was quietly taking mental notes, waiting for the right moment to make his pitch.
"I refer to it as the Predator's Eye," Michael explained, his tone dropping an octave into a low, smooth whisper.
"It can be invoked consciously, though most vampires first unlock it when they are pushed to the brink of starvation."
James tilted his head, holding his slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. "So what does it actually look like from your side?"
Michael leaned in slightly.
His round, human pupils suddenly narrowed into razor-thin cat slits, the bright iris glowing with a faint, iridescent crimson hue.
From Michael's perspective, the vibrant colors of the loud cafeteria faded into muted grayscale.
Superimposed over James's chest and arms was a complex, glowing network of bright crimson lines tracking every major artery and vein.
Around his heart, the crimson glow deepened into a dark, thrumming pulse, highlighting the densest clusters of warm blood.
"It is a specialized visual spectrum," Michael murmured, his slitted eyes focusing intently on James's neck. "It makes identifying vital strike points utterly effortless."
James stared at him for a second, then casually took another bite of his pizza. "Oh. So it's basically a bootleg Byakugan."
Michael opened his mouth, ready to launch a furious defense of his ancient lineage, but closed it abruptly. He bit his lip, wrestling with his pride, before deciding to argue the point anyway.
"It is entirely different!" Michael huffed, his pupils expanding back to normal as he broke the spell.
"I cannot see your skeletal structure or your internal organs! As I clearly stated, it merely highlights the fluid dynamics of your circulatory system!"
James finished chewing, wiped his fingers, and gave Michael a flat, deadpan look. "Like I said. Bootleg Byakugan."
Michael closed his eyes, taking a long, deliberate breath to compose himself. He had him there, and he hated it.
"Enlighten me then," James continued, leaning back. "What else do you have in that toolkit?"
Michael let out a defeated sigh, taking another sip of his espresso. "We possess spatial shapeshifting—specifically the ability to disperse our physical mass into dense, controllable mist, or reform into secondary animal aspects."
James nodded along. "Aren't you guys pretty much limited to turning into bats, though?"
Michael paused, his cup hovering inches from his lips. His tone turned mockingly defensive.
"And what, pray tell, did bats ever do to offend your delicate sensibilities?"
"Nothing," James said with a shrug. "I'm just not trying to copy Batman's entire aesthetic."
Michael raised an eyebrow, about to tease him, before remembering James's actual background as an orphan.
A wicked, sophisticated smirk returned to his pale face.
"Heh. Even if you possessed the ability to shift into a creature of the night, my dear James, you could never hope to emulate the Dark Knight."
James crossed his arms, looking at his friend suspiciously. "And why is that?"
Michael set his coffee down with an elegant, delicate clink against the saucer, leaning forward with an air of refined, mocking nobility.
"Because, my tragically impoverished companion, the Caped Crusader possesses astronomical capital—whereas you are so utterly destitute that your financial portfolio borders on a comedic tragedy."
James winced, dragging a hand down his face. "Jeez. I know my bank account is hurting, but you don't have to wax poetic about how broke I am."
Michael's grin grew impossibly wider. "Frankly, I am astonished you haven't auctioned off your formidable physical services to the highest bidder simply to afford tuition."
"I have self-respect, thank you very much," James snapped, shooting him an annoyed look.
"Nonsense," Michael purred, swirling his coffee. "You simply haven't hit rock bottom yet."
James shook his head, taking a sip of his Pepsi to wash down the pizza. "Well, so far, your pitch hasn't sold me on this whole vampire gig."
A/N Chapter was supposed to come out wednesday, but, 12 am came, and if there is one thing i will stick by, its the fact that upload will only come during monday, wednesdays and fridays, if not one of those days, then it not being uploaded.
Anyway, i think next 4 chapters in school before he return to the pack.
Vote with powerstones