Chapter 69 It was outright negligence
1452 Words
“Right now, we have an active crisis. Let’s not speculate about unconfirmed theories. I trust every one of you. Thank you all for your swift response tonight.”
Adam had suspected this long before. Ever since he’d received that crimson red envelope, his *Hearing of Everything* had whispered warnings of infiltration.
Back then, he’d assumed it wasn’t his problem—someone else would handle it.
But nothing ever came of it. No investigation. No follow-up. As if the whole thing had vanished into a void.
So tonight, he’d forced the issue into the open. If no one spoke up, this rot would fester—until it consumed everything.
Smith, for her part, acted as the emergency medic: she’d just staunched the bleeding before the wound could tear wider.
Whether Adam was right or not, internal paranoia during a live operation was the last thing they needed.
“Understood!” the leaders chorused, snapping back to focus. They nodded sharply and prepared to deploy.
The situation was messy and politically sensitive—but the immediate threat seemed manageable. After all, frenzied civilians, even under Deity influence, were no match for trained Level-4 and Level-5 operatives.
“Wait!”
Just as they turned to leave, Adam’s voice cut through the air again.
For some reason, everyone’s pulse spiked.
They hadn’t done anything wrong—yet they all braced, half-expecting another earth-shattering revelation.
Somehow, they’d already forgotten Adam was from *PR*. Instead, they felt… wary of him.
“This isn’t just about possessed civilians,” Adam said grimly. “There are Acolytes behind this.”
He picked up the marker again and drew additional circles—overlapping some of the original ones.
“In these locations,” he said, “I heard Acolyte voices.”
“They’re likely hiding among the civilians, counting on your restraint—knowing you won’t use lethal force on innocent people. They’re waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“So tell everyone: stay sharp. If things turn critical, prioritize your own safety above all.”
“And remember—even the areas I didn’t mark might still be compromised. Stay vigilant.”
The department heads exchanged grim looks. The threat level had just escalated dramatically.
The Special Ops leader—the same one who’d mocked PR earlier—stepped forward.
“Bro… what’s your name?”
“Adam.”
“Got it. Today, we owe you. No time to waste—we’re moving out.”
He clapped Adam on the shoulder, then shot into the sky like a comet. Clearly, another Level-5 or higher.
One by one, the others gave Adam brief nods of respect before launching toward their assignments.
Vice President Smith began issuing rapid commands to combat instructors, and waves of personnel surged toward the campus perimeter in organized squads.
Once everyone had left, Smith turned to coordinate logistics.
Adam hesitated, then turned to Diana, who’d remained silently at his side.
“I think… I can trust you.”
He lowered his voice. “That envelope I gave you—when you passed it to the President… did he say anything?”
Diana thought for a moment, then shook her head gently.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Then where is he now? With something like this happening on campus?”
Diana explained calmly:
“Unless it’s a full-scale existential threat, the President rarely intervenes in routine emergencies. Most incidents like this are handled by the six core student departments.”
“That’s why all department heads are already seasoned, high-level superhumans.”
“In most cases, even the Vice President is the highest authority on-site.”
Adam frowned.
This wasn’t just relaxed leadership anymore.
It was outright negligence.
Adam frowned, unable to make sense of the unease gnawing at him.
His *Hearing of Everything* granted him an almost absurd ability to gather information—but it also subtly sharpened his sixth sense.
When your mind is flooded with data it can’t fully process, your subconscious steps in.
That’s where “intuition” really comes from.
Like when he’d accepted that three-hour mission weeks ago—he’d known it was dangerous, yet deep down, he’d been certain he wouldn’t die.
But now? His gut screamed *danger*—even though there were no overwhelming enemies in sight.
The pressure was invisible, the threat undefined… yet it clung to him like a shadow.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed Diana speaking beside him:
“You didn’t even ask for money this time? Working for free now?”
Adam blinked, then shrugged, catching the faint amusement in her eyes.
“Well… I am getting credits, right?”
Diana nodded, not pressing further. Instead, she gently lifted off the ground.
“Never mind. I’ll go check things out too. If anything comes up, I’ll reach out.”
Adam: “?”
“You’ve never added my contact info. How exactly are you going to ‘reach out’?”
Diana’s heart skipped. *Shit.* Her mind raced.
“I meant… through the core departments’ group channel. I can message you there.”
“Oh.”
As Diana sped away, Adam walked toward the campus perimeter, lost in thought.
Orienta University—vast as a city—was now under siege from all sides.
Hordes of civilians, eyes vacant and movements jerky like puppets, clashed with students and instructors.
And the casualties were almost entirely on Orienta’s side.
The possessed civilians attacked without restraint—but the university’s forces held back, terrified of harming innocents.
Even seasoned superhumans had never faced a battle like this.
In the past, they’d stood unflinching against Deity-level projections—energy blasts that shattered cities, skies choked with apocalyptic presence.
Those who’d dared draw blades against Deities didn’t fear death.
Yet here they were—retreating, faltering, overwhelmed.
Not by superior strength or devastating power… but by their own conscience.
This wasn’t a fair fight. It was a trap wrapped in morality.
BOOM!
A thunderous impact sent several Special Ops veterans flying backward.
Their leader—a solid Level-4—clutched a bleeding gash on his arm, voice tight with disbelief.
“How is Deity-induced possession boosting them this much?!”
They’d tried repeatedly to subdue the attackers non-lethally. Every attempt failed. And with each failure, they took more damage.
Suddenly, a streak of light slammed into the ground between them and the mob—Adam.
Frost surged from his palms. In a blur, he appeared before one possessed civilian—then *stopped*.
But instead of freezing him, Adam’s hand flicked. A blade of ice materialized.
He clamped a hand over the man’s mouth—and slit his throat in one clean motion.
Without turning, he reversed his grip and drove the blade backward into a second attacker’s chest.
Both dropped before they could react.
If Adam had learned one thing from past battles, it was this: combat wasn’t about honor or technique. It was about ending threats—fast, ruthlessly, decisively.
And he had a terrifying knack for it. With every fight, his instincts grew sharper, his execution more precise.
At this point, he didn’t even know how to “spar” anymore. Only how to *kill*.
The Special Ops team finally found their voices—too late.
“Wait—*no!*”
But the bodies were already on the ground.
They’d expected a Level-5 powerhouse to turn the tide… not a merciless executioner.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the Level-4 shouted. “They’re civilians! They can be saved!”
A wave of frost exploded from Adam, flash-freezing the remaining attackers.
“These two weren’t civilians,” he said coldly. “They were Acolytes—hidden in the crowd.”
“If you keep holding back, you’re going to get ambushed. And next time, it might be *you* on the ground.”
“What?!” the Level-4 stared. “How could you tell?!”
“Since when do Acolytes wear name tags?” Adam shot back.
One of the other operatives approached an ice-encased figure, uneasy.
“Are these freezes safe? Regular people can’t handle extreme cold like this.”
“I’ve calibrated the temperature,” Adam replied. “They might get frostbite, but they’ll survive. That’s the best I can do.”
“But listen—your lives matter more than minor injuries. Acolytes are embedded in these crowds, waiting for you to hesitate so they can strike.”
“So from now on? Protect yourselves first. Then worry about the rest.”
With that, Adam launched into the sky, vanishing toward another hotspot.
From the moment he joined the fight, the tide shifted.
Acolytes had been having a field day—hiding among possessed civilians, exploiting Orienta’s restraint to land cheap shots on stronger opponents.
- Writer
