Chapter 73 Psychological conditioning—begins now!
1124 Words
Silence.
A heavy, uneasy quiet settled over the group. The instructor’s dramatic entrance had successfully made every student’s eye twitch.
*Is this really a teacher? Did he wander in from the wrong movie set?*
Their eyes drifted downward to the massive iron rod still vibrating in the ground. It had sunk deep into the earth, spiderwebbing cracks radiating outward from the impact point.
*A teaching rod?* That thing could straight-up kill someone!
Satisfied by the stunned silence, the dark-faced giant gave a slow nod.
“My name is Steve Levin. I’ll be leading your first class this semester—though I wouldn’t exactly call myself a ‘teacher’ in the traditional sense.”
He scanned the group, his expression souring slightly. “You all look so damn obedient. Honestly, I was hoping for a troublemaker—someone bold enough to challenge me.”
“But fine. It saves time. Still… do any of you actually believe you’re just ordinary students?”
“This is a university for warriors. Warriors who will one day stand against Deities.”
“If you don’t want to be the first corpse on the battlefield, I suggest you drop the lazy, careless attitude—starting today, and every day you’re here.”
He took a single step forward, his towering frame pressing down on them like a physical weight.
At every Opening Ceremony, upperclassmen got to haze the freshmen. After a year of training at Orienta, most students saw massive leaps in their capabilities.
“Since no one’s stepping up to test me,” Levin continued, “I won’t need my teaching rod—for now. Let’s jump straight into today’s lesson.”
“First question: What kind of instructor do you think I am?”
Silence.
Levin’s intimidation had been too overwhelming. No one dared speak—no one even believed this hulking, murder-adjacent man was actually faculty.
Levin, clearly expecting this, didn’t flinch. He casually pointed at Serena, who stood in the front row.
“You. What’s your guess?”
Serena didn’t hesitate. “I’d say… a combat instructor?”
“Judging by appearances is foolish—but common,” Levin said with a sharp shake of his head. “Wrong.”
“I’m your *psychological instructor*. Here to provide mental conditioning.”
Then, he flashed a grin so unnervingly wide it bordered on grotesque.
“In a moment, I suggest you all lock your knees… and clench your sphincters.”
“Try not to embarrass yourselves.”
As he spoke, a stunningly beautiful woman with glasses stepped calmly from behind him and stood at his side.
“Meet your teaching assistant,” Levin announced. “Call her Miss Jephson. Her job is to keep you from losing your minds—because I *do* respect your potential… which means I won’t hold back.”
His words sent a ripple of tension through the students. Muscles tensed. Breathing hitched.
*What the hell is he talking about?!*
But Levin paid no mind to the psychological trauma he was inflicting. He kept going.
“I’m sure you’ve all done it—before a big test, in a crisis—you’ve whispered things like ‘God, please help me’ or ‘May the heavens protect me.’”
“Well, from this moment on, that stops.”
“Because the very beings you once prayed to? Those are the ones you’ll be fighting.”
“From now on, you are marked, forsaken, and utterly alone. Nothing will save you. From this day forward, you must become your own masters!”
“Alright. Psychological conditioning—begins now!”
Without warning, Levin’s eyes snapped wide open—and a crushing aura of sheer terror erupted from him, engulfing every student.
The air itself seemed to thicken into liquid, then solidify. Breathing became impossible.
Every student buckled slightly under an invisible weight—as if a mountain had been dropped onto their shoulders.
Their pupils dilated. Rational thought vanished. Only one sensation remained: primal, soul-deep fear.
It came from nowhere and everywhere at once—no real threat, just an overwhelming dread that clawed up from the core of their being.
In that instant, they saw visions:
—An ink-black ocean, hiding leviathans beyond comprehension.
—An abyssal maw, endless and hungry, swallowing all life.
—A starless void, where countless crimson eyes watched them from the dark.
The terror wasn’t physical—it was existential. Each student could hear their own heartbeat pounding like war drums in their skulls.
Levin paced slowly, face unreadable, watching them struggle.
“The most critical ability a superhuman can have isn’t muscle or superpower—it’s the mind.”
“If you faced a real Deity right now, you’d probably fall under its influence without even realizing it.”
“That kind of soul-level pressure awakens the instinct to submit—to drop to your knees and worship.”
“A superhuman must cultivate an *invincible will*. Even arrogance is better than cowardice.”
“But here’s the paradox: when you stand before a true high-tier Deity… you are insignificant.”
“So your task is impossible—and necessary: you must forge an unbreakable spirit… through repeated, crushing failure.”
Though his words sounded callous, Levin’s eyes never stopped scanning the group, tracking every tremor, every flicker of breaking resolve.
Suddenly, one student collapsed to his knees, clutching his head, trembling like a terrified child.
“I can’t—I can’t! Please, no! I’m sorry—I messed up!”
Levin exhaled sharply. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes—gone in an instant.
“The first to break… and it’s a guy? Guess that thing between your legs is just for show.”
But no one cared who’d fallen. Everyone was drowning in their own nightmare.
Then—Edward roared.
His body surged upward to two and a half meters, his eyes blazing crimson as he locked onto Levin with feral defiance.
Levin gave a faint, approving nod—but his tone remained scathing.
“Using your superpower to resist? Decent. But still all bark, no bite.”
Then, his gaze snagged on something… off.
Someone—was yawning?
*Did I just see that? Who the hell is this kid?*
And more importantly—why hadn’t he noticed him before?
Adam, of course.
His *Demigod’s Body* granted natural resistance to oppressive auras. Plus, he’d stood face-to-face with actual Deities before—so this psychological assault barely registered.
And deep down, Adam carried his own brand of invincibility: the quiet certainty that he was the most unique being in existence.
He’d even been running his *Stealth* ability this whole time, deliberately staying under Levin’s radar.
But that sleepy, half-hearted yawn?
It shattered Levin’s composure completely.
- Writer
