Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 253: We Were All Normal Before

The Hall of Presence hadn’t moved.

Neither had she.

The Dean stood in the center of the platform, feet square, coat still, hands relaxed at her sides. No flicker of power. No theatrics. Just silence stretching far enough for breath to catch and thoughts to sharpen.

Then, finally, she began to walk.

One step. Then another.

Her heels didn’t echo. The stone beneath her didn’t muffle the sound—it absorbed it. Like the hall recognized who she was and made space for it quietly.

She walked toward the edge of the platform.

No spotlight shifted. No change in lighting. Just her voice.

"There was a time," she said, "when no one had powers."

Still calm. Still even.

"No gifts. No abilities. No cults. No Forbidden Zones crawling with beasts."

She let that settle. A few students blinked, unsure whether she was speaking metaphorically or literally.

"We had cities. Satellites. Governments that argued over water and oil. We used to fight over borders and broadcast it across the sky."

She looked up, toward the dome above, where light shimmered softly across the silver-blue curve like memories trying to reflect themselves.

"Then came the meteor shower."

She stopped walking.

"It was supposed to pass by harmlessly. Just a light show. Something pretty. A once-in-a-lifetime sky event."

She turned slightly, not for effect, just continuing the arc of her thoughts.

"But it didn’t pass."

Her voice stayed steady. Clear.

"It curved. Veered. Shifted without warning. No gravity field. No mass interaction. No known law of physics could explain it."

A pause.

"But it happened anyway."

She resumed walking. Measured. Even.

"Theories flooded the air—divine judgment, alien intervention, hidden weapons. But no one had time to answer. Just time to act."

She took another step.

"So the governments panicked. Fired nuclear countermeasures. Every major power launched what they had at the fragments."

A breath.

"They succeeded. On paper."

Her eyes moved across the room again, steady.

"They shattered the meteors. Turned them into debris clouds."

Her voice lowered slightly.

"And in doing so, they made it worse."

Still no reaction from the Hall. But every ear was locked in now.

"It didn’t rain fire. It rained something else."

She stopped again. Not centered. Not edge. Just where her body paused.

"Particles. Dust. A shimmer that looked beautiful coming down. It drifted into forests. Into oceans. Into the lungs of every living thing."

She glanced upward again.

"It didn’t kill us."

A pause.

"It changed us."

Her eyes moved across the seats, not looking for someone, just making sure they were still listening.

"They gave it names. Ether. Spirit Fog. Mutation Bloom. But no one could explain it. And no one could stop it."

Another quiet beat.

"Some humans changed overnight. Some became stronger. Others became... different."

She didn’t explain further. She didn’t need to. Everyone here had grown up hearing fragments of those stories or seeing the consequences firsthand.

"Animals mutated faster. Birds became hunters. Wolves grew scales. Plants developed responses—sharp, fast, and chemical.

Entire mountain ranges collapsed, and the flow of rivers was reversed. And the sky itself... twisted."

The silence grew heavy.

"Civilization collapsed within two years."

Not shouted. Just said.

"Over ninety percent of the population vanished."

Her hands stayed at her sides. She didn’t flinch.

"Some were taken by beasts. Others are affected by the changes. Some simply couldn’t keep up."

A long pause.

"The rest clung to whatever was left. Cities with walls. Towns with too little power. Bunkers with filters that broke within weeks."

Her voice stayed even.

"Astralis was not the first to rise. It was the last."

Another breath.

"One of three universities created by the last collective effort of humanity. Not to protect. But to prepare."

Then she said it again, plainly.

"Power was not a gift."

The Hall didn’t move, but something shifted anyway.

"It was a debt."

A weight settled into the air, not heavy, but definite like a door closing.

She raised one hand slowly, not to perform, but as if she was remembering what the sky looked like in those days.

"A shimmer. A soft rain that lasted three days. It fused with the soil, with the air, with everything."

Her hand lowered again.

"It changed us."

The lighting dimmed slightly, not dramatically—just adjusting to the tone. Shadows softened. Lines became clearer.

"Some humans gained powers. Not many. But enough to shift the balance."

A few students shifted their shoulders. Not fidgeting. Just grounding themselves.

"Animals changed first. Then the land. Then us."

She paused, letting the stillness speak.

"There was no time to adapt."

Then she moved again.

"Within the first year, sixty percent of humanity was gone."

The number landed flat.

"In the second year, it passed ninety."

No drama. Just the truth.

"Old governments tried to hold on. Failed. Systems collapsed. Entire regions became Forbidden Zones."

A low hum vibrated underfoot again. The Hall itself responded. Not loudly. Just reminding them it was listening, too.

"The survivors weren’t better. They weren’t chosen. They were just... alive. Fast. Lucky. Stubborn."

She slowed as she returned to center.

"They took what was left. Salvaged what still worked. Made deals with the powerful. Formed cities."

She stopped.

"And Astralis was built."

Not declared. Just placed.

"It wasn’t the first megastructure. It was the last."

She looked at them all now.

"Of the three, only two remain."

Still no projection. No music. No fanfare.

"Astralis wasn’t built to shelter the strong. It was built to sharpen the survivors."

She didn’t lift her voice. It didn’t need lifting.

"You are not special for being here."

She paused.

"You are fortunate."

A beat longer.

"And fortune is not a foundation."

She stepped forward again.

"This university doesn’t offer. It demands."

Her voice didn’t change. But the tone did.

"It requires growth. Pain. Proof."

She let that settle.

"This campus is surrounded by cities built and managed by students. They create their own systems. Their own safety. No one steps in."

Then the reminder.

"You will receive Astralis Points."

A pause.

"They cannot be bought. They cannot be gifted. They are earned. And they can be taken."

No rise in pitch. No dramatic pause.

"Points determine everything. Housing. Food. Missions. Labs. Mentors."

Her gaze swept the Hall.

"To safety."

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