Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 195: Federation Level Clearance Required

Chapter 195: Federation Level Clearance Required

The younger staff looked confused.

"Tell us what?"

The evaluator spoke as if he were remembering something deeply buried. Not just a moment, but a truth that most people didn’t learn until it was too late.

"That there’s a difference between a fighter and someone who was born to make others kneel."

They didn’t understand it yet. Not fully. But the screen made it clear.

Ethan pivoted, clean and sharp. His blade flashed across the beast’s side—not wild, not rushed. Just right.

The creature roared again.

But this time, it wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t even fury.

It was fear.

And not the kind that came from pain.

It came from realization.

Because somewhere in its primal instincts, buried deep in whatever it used to judge threats, something was screaming that this wasn’t a normal fight.

And it was already too late.

No one in the control room was speaking anymore. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained.

It was the kind that came when people stopped trying to understand and just accepted what they were seeing.

The drone feed zoomed in further. Ethan’s face stayed calm. Focused. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t even look tense.

He just looked like he was where he needed to be.

The beast tried again, lunging in a tight arc, claws sweeping wide.

Ethan didn’t flinch. He stepped under the strike and turned his shoulder just enough that the edge of its paw brushed his cloak. That was all. The blade in his hand didn’t even rise.

Not yet.

He let the beast pass. Let its own weight throw it off balance.

Only then did the blade move—a quick, sharp slash behind the knee.

The creature stumbled, caught itself, then growled low and deep. Blood matted the fur along its side, now dripping faster.

It charged again.

Ethan was gone again.

He didn’t blur. He didn’t vanish.

He just moved like someone who already knew what the next five moves would be.

"That’s not student-level," someone muttered under their breath.

"It’s not even bronze-tier style. Look at how he’s positioning."

"That’s how silver ranks fight," said another voice, older this time.

But no one corrected him. They all saw it.

Every move Ethan made had a reason. He wasn’t using strength to overpower the beast. He wasn’t even relying on speed.

He was cutting space, folding angles, and baiting every reaction.

It was quite dominant.

He didn’t need to roar. He didn’t need power-ups.

He just needed time.

And the longer the fight went, the worse it became for the creature.

By now, the creature’s forelegs had slowed. Each step dragged a little more. It tried to stay fast, but the bleeding from the earlier strikes was adding up.

It tried to pounce again. Mid-air, it twisted, hoping to catch him on the turn.

But Ethan didn’t dodge like before. He didn’t even back away.

He shifted left—barely—and raised his blade with both hands.

The timing was brutal.

One clean arc across the beast’s chest.

The metal tore through muscle and hide, not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to stagger. The beast hit the ground wrong, skidding through leaves and dirt.

Ethan stepped forward once. That was all it took.

The air shifted again. Still no aura. No burst of power. But the pressure thickened. You could feel it even through the drone feed.

"That’s presence," the old man said quietly. "He’s done waiting."

Ethan’s next slash wasn’t defensive.

It was a warning.

Straight across the beast’s snout.

The creature roared again, snapping its jaws and twisting to land a counter, but Ethan was already stepping in. The blade dipped low, then shot up from below, scraping across the ribs in a shallow curve.

Then he spun, quick and tight, leaving another gash behind the shoulder.

By now, it couldn’t keep up.

It was still strong. Still dangerous. But not faster. Not smarter. Not anymore.

The pressure kept growing.

Even through the screen, the staff felt it. Some leaned back slightly in their chairs. Others stared, forgetting to blink.

Then came the final movement.

The beast tried again—one last pounce.

All its weight. All its strength. A roar loud enough to rattle trees.

But Ethan met it.

Feet planted. Blade angled low.

He didn’t block.

He redirected.

A twist of the wrist.

A shift of the hips.

Then—one clean, sharp strike.

Across the neck and down through the shoulder.

Not showy. Not exaggerated. Just precise.

The creature didn’t even cry out this time.

It stumbled mid-air, landed on two legs, then collapsed before it could rise again.

The screen froze for half a second as the drone tried to reorient.

The beast didn’t move anymore.

Ethan stood there, posture calm, sword lowered.

He wasn’t breathing hard.

He wasn’t hurt.

He looked down at the fallen monster once—just once, then turned without fanfare.

And started walking.

The drone followed him, hovering low.

The staff in the outpost barely made a sound. Someone finally exhaled. Another muttered something that sounded like, "That’s not normal..."

Then the real shock hit.

The vice director nodded once. "Alright. Bring up his file. I want to know who signed off on this zone entry."

An operator turned to his console, fingers moving fast.

The screen flashed.

ACCESS DENIED — PRIVILEGE LEVEL RESTRICTED

The room froze.

The vice director frowned. "Run it again."

Same result.

Another screen showed the same message. Locked. Higher clearance required.

Someone on the far side of the room said what most of them were thinking.

"That means someone above regional director level locked his file."

The old man in the coat raised a brow. "That’s Federation clearance."

Vice Director Hannick stared at the blank access screen for a moment, then looked back at Ethan’s feed.

Still calm. Still walking. Not a single scratch on his body.

He said nothing. Just nodded once.

"Keep this feed running. Archive every second. And notify the upper tent."

"But sir—"

"Don’t argue. Just do it."

Another alert buzzed from the side.

"Zone 9 is flaring. Large beast movement again."

"And Zone 14 just sent a rescue request."

The room snapped back into motion. Orders flew. Teams deployed. Other names came up—Sera, Mei, Evelyn—handling their zones, keeping students safe.

But the center screen stayed locked on Ethan.

As he disappeared into the trees again, one of the younger staff leaned forward, voice low.

"What is he?"

The evaluator smiled faintly but didn’t reply, knowing that Ethan’s growth rate and calmness in this situation would likely lead him to become a powerful superpower user sooner or later.