Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 272: Ardis Kyrelle

Chapter 272: Ardis Kyrelle

She said nothing, but her gaze stayed locked on the forming pattern.

Evelyn didn’t speak, didn’t shift her posture, didn’t raise her aura—but Ethan could feel it all the same. She had noticed it.

She had recognized something in what he’d done. And while she didn’t say a word, her stillness was an acknowledgment.

Not the result.

Of the origin.

Everly, standing just a step behind him with her hands on her hips and her weight cocked to one side, leaned forward slightly and grinned.

"Okay," she whispered, voice low but bright with amusement, "that’s hot."

Velrin didn’t react—at least, not right away.

But something subtle flickered behind her eyes. A shift.

Not approval, not emotion. Just the faintest tension in her jaw, like a quiet answer had been spoken to a question she hadn’t realized she was asking until that moment.

"Withdraw your fragment," she said calmly.

Ethan did as he was told. The pressure slipped away from his skin and nerves like fog lifting off water.

The lines of intent dissolved. The shimmer faded from the ring. But something inside him still buzzed—not like adrenaline, but awareness.

Velrin turned her back to them without further comment, already gesturing to the next trio.

"You will all submit your first intent reports by the next cycle," she added evenly. "Not measurements. Meaning. If you cannot describe what you are, your power cannot either."

There was no response. None was needed.

The room itself felt heavier now, as if everything in it had quietly shifted half an inch into something sharper. More real.

When the three of them stepped outside together, the hallway air felt... different. Not lighter exactly, but aware.

Like, even the walls were giving them a moment of quiet acknowledgment for what had just happened inside.

They didn’t talk.

Not even Everly.

They just kept walking.

—

The next class was held in one of the southern lecture towers—those strange, slowly-rotating structures that shifted alignment based on the sun’s position and atmospheric mana distribution.

This particular one had glass walls that filtered ambient energy, giving the entire corridor a soft amber glow and the faint smell of ozone.

A narrow sign hovered in front of the entry arch, words rotating slowly in clean script:

Superpower Law & Civil Argumentation

The classroom inside looked more like a court chamber than a traditional academic space.

Two sections of seating faced each other across a narrow center aisle, with a tall podium sitting between them like a silent referee.

There were no walls behind the seats—just a curved projection barrier that displayed legal precedents, public records, and timestamped events when called upon.

Professor Ryn stood to the left, her glasses catching a gleam of light that made them briefly opaque.

Her robe-like jacket looked more judicial than academic, and her presence was understated but commanding.

She didn’t wait for anyone to settle.

"Today’s prompt is simple," she said without looking at the room. "A tyrant saves a city. Millions live. Thousands suffer. Is he a hero, or is he a villain?" NovelFire

A low groan rippled across the classroom like a wave, students already bracing themselves for debate fatigue.

Ryn smiled faintly, but her eyes remained unreadable. "You’ll work in pairs. Arguments are to be logical. Precedent-based. Emotional framing is disqualified. Facts only."

Ethan got paired with a tall boy named Cael—buttoned-up collar, posture that screamed "debate club," and a constant tic of adjusting his cuffs like they were too tight on his precious brainpower.

He didn’t acknowledge Ethan beyond a small nod, as if already rehearsing how he’d carry the team.

Of course, Evelyn and Everly were paired together. This immediately made the opposing group visibly uncomfortable, which Ethan quietly found satisfying.

The debate began predictably. Cael took the lead, confident and polished.

"If a tyrant’s rule preserves more lives than it harms," he said, pacing slightly, "then moral judgment must weigh value over discomfort. Sacrifice for the many is not villainy—it is leadership."

Evelyn’s interruption was as calm as it was immediate.

"False premise," she said. "Preserving lives is not equivalent to preserving autonomy. Discomfort is irrelevant. Stability is not justification when consent is absent."

Cael blinked, off-balance. "But the population—"

"Did not choose him. Stability gained through suppression creates delay, not resolution. Your logic sustains tyranny, not justice."

Ryn looked up from her notes then. She didn’t stop anything. She just watched.

Everly, practically bouncing in place, leaned into her side of the podium. "If the tyrant never lets the people grow strong enough to govern themselves, then he isn’t protecting them—he’s controlling them.

That’s not heroism. That’s ownership with a better PR team."

Someone clapped once from the back before getting elbowed in the ribs by their seatmate.

Ethan said nothing.

Not because he didn’t have anything to contribute, but because he didn’t need to for the first time. The twins had it covered, completely and beautifully.

Cael stumbled through a weak closing statement, and Professor Ryn finally nodded.

"Point: team two."

They ended ten minutes later, with Cael sulking in silence and Everly whispering something snarky into Evelyn’s ear that made her blink, then crack a smile.

—

The final class of the day was across the plaza in a massive arcane dome used for high-risk spell testing.

The sign above the entry glowed brightly:

Orbital Spellcasting Mechanics

Inside, the space looked less like a lecture hall and more like a military-grade hangar.

A massive casting field was etched into the floor, layered with sensor panels, air runes, mana flow indicators, and overhead projection rings that tracked trajectory and spell velocity.

Instructor Draal stood to the side, arms folded across a sleeveless tunic that exposed forearms lined with jagged burn scars and tattooed runework.

He didn’t bother with a lecture.

"This session’s demonstration is orbit-stabilized chaining," he said. "You’re not expected to replicate it. Just understand it."

Then he gestured toward the entrance.

And someone walked in.

Tall. Poised. Platinum-white hair with soft lilac gradients at the ends, tied loosely behind her back.

Her steps were silent. Her aura—unraised. But her presence filled the space the moment she arrived.

Ardis Kyrelle.

She scanned the room once. Her gaze didn’t linger.

Until it landed on Ethan.