Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users - Chapter 177

Chapter 177: The Literary Exams Are Over
“A recent study on sub-district governance found that 41% of urban wards with rotating superpower patrols saw a rise in long-term civilian cooperation, while 72% of wards with static garrison forces showed increasing distrust over a five-year period.

Why do you think this occurred? Provide a simple analysis in less than 500 words, and suggest a deployment method that balances authority with social integration.”

Ethan’s fingers barely paused.

He explained that rotating patrols kept power from being tied to one place. People didn’t feel like they were being watched by the same faces every day.

It built a rhythm—authority that came and went, instead of hovering over them.

He suggested a low-profile patrol model. No loud uniforms. More civilian-trained operatives with basic social understanding. Still capable. Still armed. But easier to approach.

Not fear. Not dominance.

Just presence.

That was the balance.

The screen dimmed slightly after that. A soft pulse ran through the desk as if the system was asking him silently if he wanted to continue.

He tapped once.

The next batch of prompts began to load.

He didn’t react much. Just sat up straighter, rolled his shoulders once, and kept going.

He answered each one without stress.

The prompts came faster now. Shorter. More focused.

Some were about specific cities Ethan had studied.

Others were hypothetical situations—how to protect a resource hub during an uprising, how to detect beast migration patterns using population drift data, how to prevent corruption inside border inspection units when powerful clans controlled the routes.

He answered them all in a clear, simple, and structured way.

The minutes ticked by. The soft sound of other students typing or writing continued around him, steady and quiet.

And then, the desk buzzed again.

The screen faded.

And in its place, a floating projection of a small creature popped into view.

It looked like a plush animal—round ears, big glasses, soft white fur, a little academic cap tilted slightly on its head, and a long wooden ruler in one paw.

It hovered politely in front of Ethan, blinked twice, then pushed up its glasses with its free hand.

The classroom stayed quiet as everyone was still busy with their own exam, but Ethan’s focus was on the cute animal.

This was the academy’s test AI.

It was built with one purpose: grading.

It looked cute, almost cartoon-like, but everyone knew it was one of the most advanced education-based artificial intelligences in the world.

They called it Dr. Quill.

Officially, it was known as the Quotient-Integrated Learning and Logic unit—a full-scale AI trained on decades of historical, political, and power-related documentation.

It was created because too many human evaluators had been caught favoring the “right” families, quietly bumping up scores behind closed doors.

Some were bribed, some were threatened, some just played favorites.

After too many quiet complaints, ignored audits, and years of whispered favors, the education board reached its limit.

They didn’t pretend not to see the problem—they just waited, observed, and collected proof. Once the pattern was undeniable, they acted.

What followed was years of development: a new grading system that couldn’t be bought, bribed, or convinced.

An AI with layered encryption, adaptive reasoning, and no internal override once an exam began.

The rule was simple.

And if someone could crack into the AI to give them a perfect score, then they were already smart enough to deserve one.

So far, no one had cracked it.

The cute little professor hovered in front of Ethan’s desk, a small animated sweat drop forming above its head. It wobbled slightly, as if overwhelmed by the depth of his answers.

Then after a few more minutes, it ‘tidied’ itself—fixing its glasses, patting down its fur, tapping the ruler against a small notepad that didn’t exist, and nodding once.

The projection flickered.

Then a small animation played.

Dr. Quill gave a tiny wave toward Ethan.

And the final score appeared above the projection, bright and simple.

Perfect.

There were no bonus markers. No special fanfare. Just a clean display of the result.

Ethan stared at it once.

Then gave a small nod.

That was expected.

He didn’t show much reaction because anything less than that would’ve been surprising.

He stood up.

Picked up his bag.

Slid the chair back quietly.

Some students noticed one by one. Some looked up, some didn’t, but no one said anything.

He walked to the front of the room and exited just as calmly as he’d entered.

Meanwhile, the hallway was still quiet, and fluorescent lights still hummed. Some other exam rooms were still full.

Some students were just beginning to hand things in, while others were locked in concentration, heads down, expressions tight.

Ethan didn’t look at anyone.

He just walked.

When he turned the corner toward the main lobby, two familiar figures stepped out from a room across the hall.

The Moonshade twins.

Evelyn and Everly.

Both were wearing their academy uniforms—neat, pressed, and tailored just enough to keep elegance without flash.

Evelyn walked with her usual quiet grace, a thoughtful calm in her eyes. Everly walked with a light step and a soft smile, the kind that made her look like she already knew what Ethan was thinking.

When they spotted him, they smiled.

Both of them.

Same moment. Same timing.

They didn’t say anything at first.

They just walked toward him.

Their steps matched. No rush. No hesitation.

Ethan stopped in the middle of the corridor.

Everly was the first to speak. “How’d it go?”

Ethan tilted his head slightly. “Perfect.”

Evelyn’s smile widened just a little. “As expected.”

He looked at them. “You two?”

Evelyn gave a small nod. “Clean.”

Everly stretched her arms lazily. “Not bad. A few of the later prompts were annoying, but nothing crazy.”

They fell into step naturally.

No one rushed.

The halls slowly started to fill with students who had finished their tests. Some were talking in hushed tones, and others were walking alone.

But Ethan, Evelyn, and Everly just moved quietly through the crowd.