Chapter 74 Was up all night playing online games
1142 Words
Levin blinked twice, making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He locked onto Adam, who stood there like he hadn’t a care in the world—completely unaffected, even bored enough to yawn.
Something was seriously off. Even if his ability granted resistance, yawning in the middle of a psychological trial? That wasn’t just unusual—it was borderline disrespectful.
*You couldn’t possibly have stayed up all night playing online games… could you?*
He studied Adam for a few more seconds, then deliberately turned his gaze away, refocusing on the rest of the class.
In just ten minutes, nearly a dozen students had already collapsed. The strikingly beautiful assistant—stockings, glasses, and all—rushed over to drag them aside before the mental strain permanently scrambled their minds.
Only the strongest remained standing: the elite cohort, mostly assessment-free admits with proven potential.
Henry was among them—barely.
He was trembling, drenched in sweat, vision blurring at the edges. Through sheer will, he managed to flick his eyes sideways—and caught sight of Adam.
There he was, eyelids half-closed, letting out another lazy yawn like he was waiting for a bus.
Henry nearly cursed out loud.
*Are you kidding me?! We’re dying over here, and you’re fine?!*
The sheer absurdity of it actually dulled some of the terror clawing at his chest. He muttered under his breath, voice cracking:
“Boss… you’re a literal monster. Seriously, not even fazed?”
Adam glanced over at Henry—pale, shaking, barely human-looking—and leaned in slightly, whispering:
“You know, I don’t get why you’re all being so obedient. Why not just drop to the ground and fake a blackout? Problem solved.”
Henry: ?!
His pupils shrank to pinpricks. His brain short-circuited.
*Wait… that’s… allowed?*
Why did Adam’s lazy logic always sound so bizarrely brilliant? Was that actually possible?
After a split-second of internal debate, Henry decided: *Screw it.* He flung himself backward like a sack of bricks—nose nearly broken on impact.
But seconds passed… and no one came to help him.
Because Levin had heard every word.
“Leave him,” Levin barked to the assistant. “Let him lie there.”
He kept scanning the others, while the assistant shot Henry a look of quiet pity.
*Why is no one helping me?!* Henry wailed internally.
Minutes dragged on. His body and mind were genuinely fraying at the edges now—but still, no rescue.
*Boss, you’ve doomed me!!!*
Muttering incoherent syllables, Henry finally blacked out.
In an instant, Levin teleported beside him, grabbed him by the collar like a drowned mutt, and hurled him outside the training zone.
“Hmph. Trying to cheat?”
“Alright,” Levin boomed, voice cutting through the haze. “First session’s over.”
The crushing pressure vanished.
Like wheat flattened by a hurricane, every student collapsed in unison—gasping, trembling, drenched in sweat. The sensation had been like drowning in a nightmare; now, freed, they gulped air as if surfacing from deep water.
Adam, the only one still standing, blinked in mild awkwardness—then quickly sat cross-legged on the ground to blend in.
But Levin strode straight toward him and gestured for him to rise.
“Your name?”
“Adam.”
“Hmph. You’ve got grit. But you dared to yawn in *my* class? That’s pushing it. Give me a reason.”
Levin flashed his trademark menacing grin—the same one he used to scare rookies into obedience.
“Sorry,” Adam said, deadpan. “Didn’t sleep well. Was up all night playing online games.”
Levin froze.
His fearsome expression faltered. “…Should I… applaud your honesty?”
“Nah, no need, sir,” Adam replied with a shrug.
Levin just stared.
“…What’s your superpower? Some kind of mental resistance?”
“Me? My ability is *Energy Chain*.”
Levin didn’t say another word. He turned on his heel, walked to the front of the group like a man nursing a grudge, and watched the students recover.
They’d barely caught their breath for five minutes when Levin barked:
“On your feet!”
Groans rippled through the crowd. They weren’t ready for this intensity. This wasn’t school—this was worse than military boot camp.
“Get up! Stop whining like a bunch of toddlers!” Levin roared, voice sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re *superhumans*! You’re supposed to protect the world—not hide behind it!”
“While you brats were sleeping last night, do you even know what happened?”
“Orienta University was attacked. Your seniors, your instructors, your President—they stood in the line of fire so you could sleep soundly in your beds.”
“And you,” he shot a glare at Adam, “have the nerve to brag about pulling an all-night gaming session?!”
Adam: …
“You think you’ve got time to waste? The world is changing faster than you can blink. The UHG meets daily. When the crisis hits—and it *will*—you won’t be students anymore. You’ll be soldiers.”
“You think I’m rushing you? That this is some ‘accelerated’ or ‘brutal’ training?”
“No. This is *basic curriculum*.”
“Everything we do here has one goal: so that when you face a Deity, you can stand—not collapse, not kneel, not beg.”
His words hit like hammer strikes. Every student snapped to rigid attention, posture sharp, eyes forward. The lazy slouches and whispered complaints were gone. They looked like a unit now—disciplined, focused, transformed.
Levin gave a slow nod. This was exactly why the university assigned him the role of the “villain”—to strip away their privilege, their softness, their illusions of safety.
“You can be pampered at home. But the battlefield? Acolytes? Deities? They won’t care.”
“What comes next will be harsh. Brutal, even. But it’s what every one of you will face.”
“You will see blood.”
“And speaking of defiance—” Levin’s eyes narrowed, scanning the group—“I just caught myself a troublemaker. Adam. Step forward.”
Fifty-five heads swiveled in unison toward Adam.
Levin never reviewed student files beforehand—he believed in judging them raw. But the name “Adam” had already spread through campus rumors.
Adam walked up calmly.
“Actually,” he began, “last night wasn’t just gaming—”
“Hold that thought,” Levin cut in sharply.
Their eyes locked.
Levin’s irises flickered with crimson light.
Instantly, Adam was plunged into a vision: mountains of corpses, rivers of blood, the stench of iron thick in the air. A voice echoed in his skull, cold and probing:
“Have you… ever killed people?”
- Writer
