Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 262: Beast Psychology?

Everly nudged Ethan’s shoulder with a soft but pointed motion, her voice dry with amusement. "You’re right. It isn’t very pleasant.

But it’s only a pain for you. For others, this selection can decide whether they land a foot in a major department or spend their first term sweeping sensor halls."

Ethan didn’t answer right away. He just gave her a sidelong glance—half resigned, half amused—because deep down he knew she wasn’t wrong.

In a place like Astralis, where subtle hierarchies were hidden behind clean walls and smooth words, the smallest early evaluations could quietly shape a student’s entire path.

Before he could reply, the pod began to slow.

The hum beneath their feet softened, and ahead of them, a new archway came into view.

This one wasn’t grand like the Hall of Presence, but it didn’t need to be—it had its own refined symmetry.

A wide circular plaza spread beyond it, flanked by three curved towers whose windows caught the afternoon light and scattered it softly across the stone.

The gold reflection painted everything in a muted glow, like someone had softened the world’s edges.

Their pod glided to a stop with a hiss so quiet it barely registered.

Waiting nearby was a young woman in a fitted uniform—shoulders squared, expression calm, a thin data pad resting loosely in her left hand like it weighed nothing at all.

"Sector Seven," she said, voice clipped but not unfriendly. "Unit 7A. Your wristbands will sync automatically upon entry.

All default amenities are preloaded. Initial briefing begins after activation."

Ethan nodded once. "Got it. Thank you."

The three of them stepped out of the transport together, their pace steady as they crossed the plaza.

Their footfalls were hushed against the polished floor, and for a moment, there was no sound except the faint breeze brushing past the towers above.

The building they approached didn’t feel like a dorm in the traditional sense. No school branding or decorative signage was trying to instill false warmth.

Everything about it was deliberate—clean, minimal, almost too perfectly neutral. It looked more like a quiet command center pretending to be residential.

The entrance doors opened before they could touch them, gliding open with barely a whisper. Inside was a wide, empty lobby.

Cream-colored walls, soft lighting. Only two elevators sat at the far end, their panels gleaming with silent readiness. No music. No welcome desk. No noise.

A soft sign above one elevator pulsed with their unit number.

The elevator opened before they reached for the button.

The ride was short—no hum, no jolt—just a smooth vertical shift.

When the doors parted again, they stepped into a private hallway. The lights here were slightly dimmer, gentler, reflecting faintly against the glossy floor.

There were no other doors, no other rooms—just one entrance at the end of the hall—unit 7A.

It was already open.

As they crossed the threshold, the unit’s system activated silently.

Soft lights flickered on one by one, trailing across the ceiling like someone guiding them forward.

The air adjusted to their presence, changing temperature by degrees, subtle but noticeable.

A wall panel blinked once, registering their bands and then displaying their names and tier permissions in muted white font.

The layout was simple. A wide living space formed the core, with three doors leading to what were clearly private rooms.

A sleek briefing zone took up one side—a long table, slim chairs, and a flat interface screen already active with their orientation files.

Ethan stood still for a second, breathing in the air.

It was clean, so clean that it didn’t feel filtered. It was just... natural and calm, like the room was designed to lower your pulse without saying a word.

He scanned the walls—there were no visible cameras, and there was no digital voice prompting them to smile or check updates. The design was clearly intentional.

Calm, quiet, detached. A place for high-functioning people who didn’t need reminding of their responsibilities.

Evelyn crossed to the screen first, her fingers moving with practiced ease. "Briefing files are loaded.

The assessment phase starts tomorrow morning. Until then, we have open access to the local archive, and elective registration is unlocked."

Everly dropped onto the soft couch with a casual groan of relief. "Then let’s pick something that doesn’t make me regret waking up. Preferably something not boring or mind-numbing."

Ethan arched a brow. "You really think Astralis has anything fun?"

She gave him a cheeky smile. "It’s the first week so we will know after some time."

Evelyn tapped a few more icons. "We’re limited to internal electives until the main assessment clears.

But two options are open for tomorrow morning—Combat Tactics 101 and Beast Psychology."

Ethan frowned slightly. "Beast Psychology? That’s a real class?"

"Yeah," Everly answered before Evelyn could. "It’s one of those cross-species behavioral electives.

Super useful if you ever end up dealing with active zones, wild borders, or negotiating with things that have too many teeth and not enough patience."

"Sounds pleasant," Ethan muttered.

Evelyn’s voice stayed calm. "It’s actually one of the smarter starting classes. You learn how to avoid dying before your power’s even relevant."

He nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I’ll take it."

"Same," the twins replied at once.

Evelyn locked in their selections.

"First class is scheduled at dawn."

Morning arrived quietly.

There was no alarm. No digital chime. Their wristbands simply glowed faintly thirty minutes before the sun rose past the outer towers.

By the time Ethan had changed into his assigned gear—form-fitting, charcoal-gray, durable, and clean—the air already held that crisp stillness that only came before a long day.

They walked together toward the east platform. The dome that housed Combat Tactics 101 was open-air and sat near a sharp cliff edge that overlooked a quiet drop into terraced forests.

The wind here was different. Cleaner. More alive.

Instructor Varra Kestrin waited at the center of the stone ring. freewebnoveℓ.com

She didn’t wear armor. Her shirt was rolled at the sleeves, her arms scarred in ways that spoke of experience, not edits.

Half her face bore a jagged line that ran through her cheek and toward her ear.

She didn’t greet them. Didn’t smile.

"Everyone’s here," she said flatly. "Good."

A sharp stomp from her heel activated the floor. A glowing circle lit up beneath her—eight meters across.

"This is your survival zone. If you can’t stay upright here, don’t expect the world outside to treat you better."

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