CHAPTER THREE
Standing between Michael and the future was Emox, a place that could grant him the death he so desperately longed for or condemn him to continue living in this miserable nightmare.
A towering Black man suddenly appeared on the stage.
"YES! BLACK!" Michael muttered, locking eyes with him.
For a brief moment, it felt as though the man was staring directly back at him, wearing a grin that suggested he knew something Michael didn't.
Then the man opened his mouth.
"MONKEYS! PALE CHICKENS! DOG-EATERS! I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE! YOU'RE ALL HERE TO ENTER EMOX, AND FROM THIS MOMENT ON, YOUR FUTURE IS IN MY HANDS!"
His voice thundered across the gathering, silencing the crowd.
"NOW, LET'S PROCEED TO THE FIRST CHALLENGE!"
He paused.
"CRIMSON NIGHTMARE."
Michael rolled his eyes.
"Who the hell is this Black monkey yarning on the stage? I could be spending this time thinking of ways to die, but instead, I'm stuck listening to this old fool. God, I'm tired of this life."
Before anyone could react, the towering man vanished.
Only one final message remained.
"SEVEN IN THE MORNING."
A wave of unease swept through the crowd. Despite their extraordinary abilities, the students shivered. Whatever awaited them was unknown, and for all their strength, the unknown was something they feared.
But not Michael.
Me?
We?
Nah. I walked away.
Outside, Michael watched as the others gathered in groups, laughing, chatting and sharing their thoughts about what had just happened.
He stood apart from them, quietly wondering what they saw in one another.
At the end of the day, weren't we all just lumps of sand?
Everyone was fighting to become the strongest, the greatest, the one who would survive. And for what?
We all die eventually.
That's life.
We spend our days struggling to survive, entertaining God as though we were characters in some sick cosmic joke, starring in a movie whose ending was already written. And when the curtains finally fell, all that remained was a body six feet underground.
Michael was furious.
How could everyone be so blind? How could they continue participating in the same meaningless cycle without ever questioning it?
Everyone wanted to survive, yet nobody seemed interested in challenging the very things they feared.
They were terrified of the unknown, but how could anyone hope to understand it while refusing to confront it?
"As far as I'm concerned, the human race is the dumbest species on Earth. They don't even know their own truth. What a joke."
His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.
Michael glanced at the screen.
It was Almada, the girl who had wanted to meet him.
She had postponed their meeting until tomorrow night.
Michael stared at the message for a moment before looking up with a smirk.
"I was planning to die today, but I guess I'll live long enough to survive the CRIMSON NIGHTMARE."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Alright, folks. Time to play your stupid game called life."