Chapter 87 Why is this so easy today
989 Words
Under the table, Adam had just discreetly pulled out the short rod. The moment it appeared, all the drifting energy in the room—subtle, collective, and charged with longing—rushed into it like water into a dry well.
It vanished without a trace. No surge, no backlash. Just… gone.
Adam felt it all through his palm. He snapped his head up, scanning the crowd.
Faith energy.
Was this it? The raw, desperate yearning of ordinary people who refused to accept their powerlessness—was that a form of faith?
And clearly, many of them had already been exposed to Deity-tainted influence, which had amplified that hunger into something volatile.
Every face in the audience was twisted with anger—like they’d been lied to, robbed of something owed to them.
Kenny’s polished, bureaucratic answers only poured fuel on the fire.
“Just answer us directly—*is there* a way for ordinary people to gain superpowers after birth?”
“Even if it’s dangerous, we have a right to know!”
“Are you hiding it because you’re afraid your superhuman privilege will disappear?”
Adam subtly guided the rod, feeling the energy flow. The more extreme the emotion, the stronger the contribution. Waves of invisible power surged into the artifact, layer by layer, deepening its resonance.
But something else surprised him.
As he absorbed the energy—all of it, without filtering—the crowd’s emotional intensity seemed to… calm.
Like a storm losing its wind.
The audience’s fury rose in waves, crashing toward chaos—only to dissolve just before boiling over. Again and again.
Even Kenny noticed. Why is this so easy today?
Adam glanced down at the rod. A connection had formed—instinctive, almost primal. It felt like he’d been born knowing how to wield it.
The power within wasn’t explosive. It was *seductive*. A whisper in the mind, a spark to dormant desires.
He realized, with a chill: *If I wanted to, I could make every single one of them lose their minds right now.*
“This power…” he murmured, tightening his grip, “is terrifying in the wrong hands.”
Used wisely, it could unite millions. Used selfishly? It could drive the world mad.
*All it takes is a single ember of desire—and this thing can turn it into an inferno.*
---
Far from the venue, crouched on a stone step in a shadowed alley, three Acolytes huddled around a bronze censer.
They frowned in confusion. One tapped the artifact sharply.
“What the hell? Is this thing broken?”
“Blasphemer!” snapped the one holding it, eyes blazing. “Dare you question the Lord’s divine gift? A Sequence Weapon *cannot* fail!”
“I’m not questioning the Lord—I’m questioning *you*!” the other shot back. “How are you even using it? Nothing’s happening!”
The censer-bearer sighed in frustration.
This *was* a genuine Sequence Weapon—meant to amplify unrest, stir chaos, and generate headlines. But nothing worked. Every time the crowd neared rioting… the tension just vanished.
It was like watching a tidal wave pull back before hitting shore.
“How?!” one growled, stomping the ground. “These fools should be screaming by now!”
“Should we do something ourselves?” another suggested.
“Are you insane?!” the leader hissed. “There’s a Super Elite on-site! And that damn clown up there—” he glared at Kenny, who was grinning like an i***t on stage—“he’s far more dangerous than he looks.”
“Something’s off. Someone among them is countering us. We just don’t know who.”
He scanned the stage—eyes passing over Adam without pause.
*A kid half-asleep at the table?*
*If he’s the one stopping us, I’ll smash my own head in with a brick.*
“Let’s go,” he muttered. “Staying here is pointless.”
---
And so, unbeknownst to both Acolytes and PR teams alike, Adam played the silent hand.
A storm had gathered—ready to explode—and yet, curled in a corner like he was napping, Adam had quietly unraveled it all.
And while no one noticed, his broken, unassuming rod drank deeply of the crowd’s faith.
In that single session, the Sequence Weapon’s power leapt a full tier.
Now, holding it, Adam felt like he’d gained a new ability entirely: the power to shape human emotion itself.
---
After the event, the organizers couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. They dispatched the finest fleet of armored vehicles to escort Adam’s group back to Orienta University.
Not out of respect—but because they never wanted to see Kenny’s smug face again.
Adam arrived back on campus dusty but unharmed. Perfect timing—he could still catch lunch at the cafeteria. Free food was free food.
He’d expected a low-effort PR gig. Instead, he’d stumbled into another mess.
*At least now I can relax for a bit.*
But something felt… off.
Students kept glancing his way, whispering, pointing.
*Did I get famous or something?*
Clang!
A massive metal tray slammed onto the table beside him, piled high with food.
Levin’s hulking frame dropped into the seat next to Adam, his face still looking like it belonged on a most-wanted poster.
The surrounding tables emptied instantly.
“You little punk,” Levin growled. “Enroll and then vanish for days? Playing hooky already?”
“Got pulled into a mission. Couldn’t help it,” Adam said.
“Hmph. You fall behind, you catch up yourself. I’m not babysitting.”
Then Levin’s expression twisted—like he was wrestling with something deeply uncomfortable.
He leaned in, voice dropping to a near-whisper.
“That… *Adam Training Regimen* everyone’s talking about—”
“Is it real?”
“Does it actually work? Where the hell did you even learn that?”
Adam: “Wait… what???”
- Writer
