In retrospect, I may have gone in the wrong direction for this one

Nodding slightly, he casually tapped into his keyboard for a few seconds before relaxedly lifting himself from the office chair. "Follow me, please." With a subtle confidence, he strode, leading her down a winding series of confusingly interlinked hallways, skipping numerous compacted cubicles and sparsed offices. She peeped curiously through some of the open doors, observing lecture hall rooms filled with studiously studying students. Is there anyone I know? Eventually, he stopped, and as if by some heavenly coincidence, so did she. An entirely white meeting room, undoubtedly modernistic in its flavored abstract design, awaited her. His escorting complete, the man seated himself behind a rectangular desk, lightly glancing at the computer off to the side before staring back at her. "I'm Eli Parks, nice to meet you, Setia." She stared at his outstretched hand, then his mysterious smile. "H-Hello, as well!" She exclaimed with an amplifying enthusiasm before, as per his ordered gesture, seating herself upon the padded chair.

"Setia Evans?" A kind, masculine voice interrupted her stuporous transition from flight to reality, she swiveled her head towards the computer desk, instinctively attempting to muster a beaming smile towards the friendly fellow. "Oh." Her pupils dilated fiercely upon seeing his dazzling smile, those strikingly milk-chocolate-ty eyes, in tandem with that marvelously smooth voice. Her eyes rested tentatively upon his cropped black hair before shyly gravitating to the small, curious piercing in his nose. Whilst staring intently at that small metallic bead, she managed to mumble: "Hello, I have an appointment with Elijah Parks at 7:30?"

Setia clutched her peat coat, almost strangling her neck in an ineffective attempt to repel that pervasive freeze. Her umbrella twisted, snapping for its refusal to yield against Hermes' wrath. Sloshing through ankle-engulfing puddles as she traversed the stormed walkway, she tried to sprint, but in reality jogged limpingly towards a stereotypically modern building. Pushing, before tripping slightly as a large set of glass double-doors retreated inwards, she left a trail of streaming water upon the lobby floor, but she had finally acquired refuge.

Yess I like this one. CRACK. A javelin from the heavens, lightning; it flashed, illuminating the early morning sky, staining it with hues of midnight blue. A heavy downpour cascaded, angel's tears turned into wrath, they pelted, weathering the exposed cement of the downtrodden sidewalks. Students scrambled, deserting the cobblestone streets with stimulated haste as they searched for cover, the elements are ever so destructive.

hehehehehehe, guess what i'm going to do. With an almost surprising carefreeness and confidence, she tossed the keys to her [insert car] (I know nothing about cars) into a GUCCI purse (idk) while donning a warm, snuggly hooded sweater onto her slim shoulders—She was determined to act.

After glancing about, she wiped her eyes and awakened with the intensity of a struggling master's student who's simultaneously searching for related work—so with a terribly splitting headache. She sighed, but eventually reached for her books, stacking them carefully, in opposition to her slumber-induced chaos, upon the mahogany desk next to a stack of wonderful red envelopes. Well, wonderful if wonderful means terrible. The envelopes were all, without exception, labeled "FINAL NOTICE," eviction nigh inevitable according to her current trajectory. Another sigh, so many sighs, would she really have to do that? About a week ago, she'd received an "invitation" from the psychological research department, an experiment that promised $5000 to participants. Suspicious? Oh, tremendously! But they wouldn't lie, right?

"HUUUU," (cough I'm not sure how to describe a gasp) a sharp intake of air. She jerked up from her sweat-matted mattress, pushing formerly-comfy blankets onto the carpet floor, before running her fingers through that long, curly black hair. It was thick yet in absolute chaos, a terrible nightmare. 4.45 AM. Groaning heavily at her alarm clock's indifferent self-expression, she reached for her glasses. Leaning her body until her arm could finally reach the bedside table, she clumsily stuffed the glasses above the dark crevices beneath her eyes. Insomnia? Better, studying. Though not technically an insomniac, perhaps her sleep debt is equally exaggerated for, in her everlasting pursuit of learning, she had once again fallen asleep, clumsily sprawling her study books across a dirtied floor.

Peering hesitantly into the impending abyss, Setia suddenly flinched. Tendrils. Black shadowy tendrils reached, grasping for her—"AHHHHH!" They slithered at her feet, crawling up her legs, a flickering tongue, coiling about her wrists; she was helpless but ever-entrapped. Oh, how she tried, clawing against the ground in life-saving ferocity, rendering her nails bloody and ragged, but it was no use. Tears and blood, utterly useless when one is too weak; she could only look on helplessly into the abyss upon a menacingly undead face. Its glowing red eyes expressed a savage otherworldly beauty and seared themselves into her spiritual consciousness, laughing sinisterly for they had claimed her soul. And she fell. Crooked yet ancient and demonic fingers reached, pulling against their chains, but they reached her and pulled. "I will have you.." The voice whispered, caressing her mind with its corruptive embrace. She fell.

I hope you're not offended, but I felt kinda inspired by this, here is a possibility: Darkness—interrupted, a crackling flame coaxed beads of sweat from her formerly-pristine brow. Cacophonous laughter echoed, striking before rebounding against the looming cavernous edges, a scarlet shadow hovering within the fire's marked boundary. A distinctly tangy scent, brimstone: thick and pungent. Setia raised her arm, the only shield against a h***scape of residual embers and flickering demons.

Wait a moment, isn't it "cacophonous"?

I'm liking the premise, though I feel that a lot more descriptions could be added. This is a very different world from the one we live in, so why not describe the superpowers in more detail? Also, it's personally hard for me to imagine that the MC is 25-years-old given the thinking that we've been exposed to, but perhaps this will be explained later. I am enjoying the story so far, a lot of things are happening, which is nice.

Can be more specific. Hard, tiring, exhausting, painful, okay! But what is he actually doing? Punching sand? Carrying 100 lbs on each arm? Tell us more

Maybe you can add a fun fact like how everyone likes to name their attack or maybe... the human genetic code literally has names for attacks? good thing to later explain maybe and seem profound

Alright i know you want to leave things to imagination, but it's okay to put some more scaffolding for us readers here i feel

can put more description. how about gestured irritatingly?

Aren't the later batches usually better? Will this be explained

Can describe it more. flaming right hand? The crimson sparks that emitted from his clenched fist?

Can rephrase for more sophistication. Instead of "You seem to have an answer for each of my questions." Can be something like: "By your repeated frowning, I can see that you've already closed your mind to actual science and don't mean to truly heed my advice..." That wasn't too sophisticated either, but you get what i mean

Hmm this makes the mayor seem less intelligent...