Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 217: Astralis University’s Dean

Chapter 217: Astralis University’s Dean

Astralis University wasn’t built into a mountain.

It was its own floating continent.

From a distance, the campus looked like a massive spiral of towers, platforms, and city-sized structures suspended in the sky. A silent fortress of learning, untouched by weather, drifting just above the clouds.

The central university hub rose layer by layer, with glowing rings orbiting the tallest spires. Some moved slowly in fixed paths; others hovered still, pulsing with soft light that flickered with system updates and shield realignments.

Around that central cluster were dozens of floating cities, each one shaped differently. Some were sleek and industrial, all sharp angles and blinking lights.

Others glowed with softer colors, like garden sanctuaries or glowing temple districts.

A few looked like they had been pulled from underwater dreamscapes—domes made of translucent material that shimmered with rainbow-touched mist.

Bridges of light and clear skyrails connected the outer cities to the main hub. They crisscrossed through the air like veins, always active, never congested.

The airspace moved constantly, but never felt busy. Floating pods moved between towers with silent propulsion.

Docking platforms hovered in formation, held in place by gravity stabilizers and anchor fields.

Every zone pulsed with faint power signatures, but the systems were tuned too tightly for any chaos.

It didn’t look like a school.

It looked like a throne city. Like a place built to raise future rulers, strategists, and sovereigns.

Near the center, anchored into the upper layers of the spiral, stood the Core Wing. It wasn’t the tallest structure, but it was clearly the oldest.

Its wide archways were framed with silver inlays, and its walls were partially covered in long, flowing vines—plants that shouldn’t have survived at this altitude, but did anyway.

Further back, almost hidden behind what looked like a faint distortion barrier, was a smaller building.

Lower ceilings. Smoother edges. Private walkways wrapped around clean gardens and trimmed flora.

The windows stretched long across the walls but were tinted just enough to make the interior unreadable.

Few students passed near it.

Even fewer were allowed inside.

This was the administrative building.

And at the very top, looking out over the eastern horizon, sat the Dean’s office.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted.

The hum of shield barriers and pod traffic disappeared the moment the door slid shut. Everything outside became background noise.

It wasn’t silence, exactly—but it was something still. Something calm and held in check.

Sunlight filtered through the angled window panels, casting long rectangular shadows across the smooth black floor. The light didn’t flash or bend unnaturally. It came in clean and soft.

Along one wall stood several shelves, stocked not with awards or display items, but with old scroll tubes, bound notebooks, and data-sealed journals. Simple. Functional. Quietly important.

Near the far window, Ardis stood.

She didn’t move, but the soft breeze coming through the slightly opened glass made her silver-and-violet robes shift slightly around her legs.

She looked like she belonged in the room, but not like she was comfortable. Her back was straight.

Her gaze was focused outside. But her shoulders held a tightness that wasn’t there yesterday.

She hadn’t spoken in minutes.

But she was thinking.

That much was clear.

Across from her, seated behind a curved darkwood desk, the Dean looked up from the panel she’d been reviewing. She studied her niece for a moment, then spoke.

"You’re angry," she said. Not sharply. Just calmly. Like someone stating a fact.

Ardis didn’t turn. But her voice followed.

"I’m not," she said quietly. "But I should be."

It wasn’t a threat. Just a truth.

The Dean closed the panel and leaned back in her chair, hands folded.

"Because I didn’t tell you?"

Ardis gave a single nod.

Still staring at the skyline.

"I would’ve prepared differently. I wouldn’t have asked so many questions if I already knew the answer."

The Dean didn’t try to interrupt. She just waited a beat, then said softly, "You’re right."

No excuse. No deflection.

Just honesty.

"He wasn’t part of the original plan," she continued. "His name wasn’t on the mentorship list until the final ranking shift came in. That shift was... not expected."

At that, Ardis finally turned.

Her eyes—soft lavender with gold specks near the iris—met her aunt’s directly.

"Because of the riot."

The Dean nodded. "And also because of him."

There was no hesitation in her voice—no question in her certainty.

"He passed the Forbidden Zone trial. He made it through the beast tide. His ranking jumped. And then... Lilith called."

That name didn’t scare Ardis. But it did stop her thoughts mid-step.

Lilith Nocturne wasn’t someone whose name came up casually. Ever.

"You told me we don’t accept personal favors here," Ardis said. "Not even from the Superpower Association. So what made this different?"

The Dean stood slowly and stepped away from the desk. She walked around until she stood beside Ardis, near the same window.

"This wasn’t a favor," she said. "It was a promise."

Ardis narrowed her eyes slightly. "To whom?"

"To Lilith," the Dean said again, softer now. "Years ago. Before I was Dean. Before you were chosen as a mentor.

She brought him here once. Ethan. He was just a boy back then. Maybe seven. Maybe younger."

Ardis’s brow shifted. That part she hadn’t heard before.

"You met him?"

"Briefly," her aunt said. "Lilith didn’t explain her reasons. But when she left, she said, ’One day, he’ll be part of something bigger.

Bigger than I can see. When that day comes, do not block him. Do not question him. Just give him space. Let him build what he needs."

There was a pause.

Ardis didn’t speak right away. But the shimmer around her faint tails pulsed once, fading slowly as her breathing calmed.

"So you accepted," she said eventually, "because of that promise?"

The Dean shook her head.

"I accepted because of you."

That earned a shift in posture.

Ardis tilted her head.

"Me?"

"You’ve waited," her aunt said. "Refused every mentee. Outscored every evaluation. Passed the instructor trials without flaw. But you kept saying the same thing—’not the right match.’"

"Because they weren’t," Ardis replied.

"And now?"

Ardis didn’t speak.

But she didn’t argue.

Instead, after a quiet moment, she said, "He’s calm. Not too proud. Not too soft. Just... aware."

The Dean allowed a small smile.

"You noticed it."

"There was something in the way he stood," Ardis continued, almost to herself. "The Moonshade girls didn’t walk behind him like subordinates.

They followed because they wanted to. Like he didn’t lead them, but they still waited for his steps."

The Dean returned to her desk, tapping once to reactivate the sealed panel.

"He doesn’t chase power. But he doesn’t avoid it either. That’s rare."

Ardis glanced toward the panel, then asked one final thing.

"Even if this wasn’t about a promise... you wouldn’t have picked me to guide him at first, would you?"

The Dean looked up.

"No," she said. "But now—there’s no one else I’d trust more."

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