Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users - Chapter 119

Chapter 119: They Are Inside An Illusion.
Meanwhile, outside the simulation.

Under the dim blue lighting of the control room, the air stayed still except for the low hum of cooling fans and the soft rhythm of fingers tapping across a keyboard.

Dozens of curved screens wrapped around the room’s far wall, each displaying a different section of the active simulation.

Forests, deserts, ruins, shorelines—all brimming with students navigating their trials. Beasts lurked. Terrain shifted. Everything was alive with movement.

At the center of it all sat Mr. Halden.

His gaze flicked across the monitors, taking in every movement, every grouping, every moment where a student hesitated, reacted too late, or made the right call.

His fingers didn’t stop moving either—typing out notes, timestamping footage, tagging team responses for review.

Group 3: Engaged too early with zero recon.

Group 5: No communication on regroup. Likely breakdown.

Group 9: Strong solo reaction, weak follow-through.

Click. Tap. Type.

Nothing surprising yet.

Then his attention shifted to a screen near the center of the wall.

Team 14.

Desert biome. Now approaching a forested edge.

Four girls, weapons drawn. Tight formation. Steady pace.

Evelyn’s group.

From the simulation feed, everything looked normal. There were clean transitions, no panic, and no issues.

The girls had just dealt with a water-based threat, and now they were heading toward what looked like a shaded grove just ahead.

But Halden didn’t rely on what the surface simulation showed.

He pressed two keys and switched to the instructor overlay—a diagnostic layer only visible to staff. What loaded up next wasn’t the forest.

It was sand.

The same spot where the girls had first spawned.

They hadn’t moved.

Not even a step.

All four of them were still standing in a perfect circle, their boots half-sunken into the desert floor.

And right beside them stood the real center of this test.

A massive scorpion-type simulation beast—its body low to the sand, unmoving. Its long tail curved upward and outward.

At its tip, four thin wires extended like tendrils, connecting directly to the headgear worn by the girls.

The wires glowed faintly with the soft shimmer of simulation energy.

It wasn’t a trap.

It wasn’t an error.

It was an illusion.

Mr. Halden didn’t flinch. He just kept typing.

Illusion Active.

Scorpion Model – Type C

Initiation: Successful

Players: Stable

Time Elapsed: 34 minutes.

He opened a second window and pulled up the projection feed—the vision the students were currently seeing inside their heads.

A wide beach.

A body of water.

Dangerous mimic creatures are hidden in the shallows.

And just ahead, a patch of green trees drew them forward like a destination.

It all looked real.

Sound, movement, resistance, even simulated temperature.

But it wasn’t.

It was an advanced visual and cognitive loop designed to test reactions under false assumptions. It was part of a higher-level evaluation trial that was rarely deployed at this stage.

He typed again.

Team 14 engaged with the illusion environment. Evelyn correctly identified the mimic-class aquatic threat.

Other team members showed a delayed but adaptive response.

Team cohesion is improving. Emotional pressure to be increased in next phase.

He paused, watching closely.

On the illusion feed, the team had slowed. They were now just past the shoreline, moving through simulated sand toward the tree line.

Their formation had changed—spread wider, more cautious.

He noted that, too.

The system responded on its own. Based on internal data tags tied to each girl’s personal background and memory imprint, the terrain ahead of them was already shifting.

It was no longer just a beach.

The land ahead was morphing.

Becoming something more familiar.

More emotionally charged.

He tapped open another panel. The terrain parameters read:

Memory Anchor Terrain – Phase One: Light Emotional Stressor.

Source Data: Evelyn.

Halden leaned back in his chair and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. He didn’t break focus.

So far, everything was moving as expected.

The illusion was clean. Their vitals were steady. The scorpion model hadn’t glitched.

He noted that Evelyn should receive minor credit for recognizing the mimic piranhas. It wasn’t obvious; most students would’ve walked straight into the trap.

But just as he went to return to another feed, something shifted behind him.

Not a sound.

Not a word.

But he felt it.

Someone was standing there.

Watching.

He didn’t turn right away—his hands continued typing, logging more data for Team 8, who had just triggered a ground trap in the ruins sector.

But the presence didn’t leave.

No footsteps.

No voice.

Just quiet stillness.

Eventually, Halden glanced slightly to the side, catching only a faint shadow reflected on the glass of one of his monitors. The figure behind him was tall, motionless, and observing the same screen he was.

Evelyn’s team, but then he felt that it was more than just her team, but he was not sure.

As he cannot tell which monitor the figure was looking at other than Evelyn’s, as it is not hard for powerful superpower users to do that.

But he did not think there was anything wrong as he knew that everything inside this school is under the principal’s perception, so if the principal did not say anything, then there is no problem..

However Halden didn’t ask who it was.

He just returned to his notes.

Whoever it was, they weren’t interfering.

They were watching, just like him.

The girls continued their illusion-projected path, stepping closer to the loaded terrain ahead.

What they believed was real—trees, water, safety—was nothing but another trial—a test of instinct, judgment, and emotional reaction.

Halden’s final note before leaning back again:

Continue monitoring.

No forced override needed.

Team 14 is stable. Simulation progression within tolerance.

He looked once more at the actual view—the four girls standing silently in a circle of sand, unmoving, their helmets glowing faintly under the scorpion’s tail threads.

And then at the projection—the illusion of movement, of survival, of progress.

Halden folded his arms.

They were still inside the beginning.

The real test hadn’t even started yet.

And from the corner of the room, the silent observer stayed exactly where they were.

Watching.

Waiting.

Saying nothing.

But very, very present.