Standing between Michael and the future was Emox, a place that could either grant him the death he so desperately longed for or condemn him to continue living in the miserable nightmare he called life.
Quite the choice, wasn't it?
A towering Black man suddenly appeared on the stage.
"YES! BLACK!" Michael muttered, locking eyes with him.
For a brief moment, their gazes seemed to meet. The man was grinning, almost as though he had heard Michael's remark and found it amusing. There was something strangely knowing about his expression, as if he possessed information that the rest of the gathering had yet to discover.
Michael stared back, momentarily intrigued.
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, cutting through the conversations and silencing the crowd.
Every head turned towards the stage.
The man stood tall, his presence commanding attention as he addressed the aspiring students. There was no warm welcome, no lengthy introduction and certainly no attempt to make anyone feel comfortable.
He seemed to have one objective: to make sure everyone understood who was in charge.
"NOW, LET'S PROCEED TO THE FIRST CHALLENGE!"
He paused.
For a moment, the gathering fell completely silent.
Then came the announcement.
"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."
He looked away, seemingly uninterested in whatever dramatic spectacle was unfolding before him.
Honestly, what was the point of all this?
Another announcement. Another challenge. Another opportunity for people to prove how extraordinary they were.
How exciting.
Before anyone could react, the towering man vanished.
Just like that.
One moment, he was standing on the stage, and the next, he was gone. There was no explanation, no farewell and no opportunity for anyone to question him.
Only one final message remained.
"SEVEN IN THE MORNING."
A wave of unease swept through the crowd.
Whispers began to spread as the students tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed. Some exchanged confused glances, while others looked towards the empty stage, seemingly expecting the man to reappear.
Despite their extraordinary abilities, the students shivered.
They were gifted individuals, people who possessed powers that separated them from ordinary humanity. Yet, in that moment, none of those abilities could tell them what awaited them.
And that was the problem.
The unknown.
It was easy to feel powerful when you understood what you were capable of. It was another thing entirely when you had no idea what you were about to face.
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 into small groups, laughing, chatting and sharing their thoughts about what had just happened.
Some were discussing the announcement, others were speculating about the challenge, and a few seemed more interested in making new acquaintances.
He stood apart from them, observing their interactions with a quiet sense of bewilderment.
What exactly did they see in one another?
Why were people so eager to gather, laugh and exchange meaningless pleasantries? What made them so desperate to belong to something?
Perhaps it was human nature.
Perhaps people simply couldn't stand being alone.
Michael didn't know.
Nor did he particularly care.
At the end of the day, weren't we all just lumps of sand?
Different appearances, different personalities, different ambitions. Some were rich, some were poor. Some possessed extraordinary abilities, while others had yet to discover what made them special.
But strip away all those differences, and what remained?
Human beings.
Fragile creatures, desperately trying to convince themselves that their existence meant something.
Everyone was fighting to become the strongest, the greatest, the most successful. They wanted to stand above everyone else, to be remembered, admired and respected.
Some wanted power.
Others wanted wealth.
And some simply wanted to survive.
But 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. Each of us playing a role in a movie whose ending was already written, desperately trying to make our little performances worthwhile.
We chase dreams, build relationships, accumulate possessions and convince ourselves that tomorrow will somehow be better than today.
We fight, we suffer, we celebrate and we mourn.
And then what?
The curtains fall.
The movie ends.
And all that remains is a body six feet underground.
Michael was furious.
He couldn't understand how everyone could be so blind. How could they continue participating in the same meaningless cycle without ever stopping to question it?
Why did nobody challenge the world they lived in?
Everyone wanted to survive, yet nobody seemed interested in challenging the very things they feared. They were content to follow the rules, accept the circumstances and carry on as though everything made perfect sense.
They feared the unknown, but how could anyone hope to understand it while refusing to confront it?
How could humanity claim to seek answers when it was unwilling to question the very foundations of its existence?
It made no sense to him.
Perhaps that was the greatest joke of all. Humanity was constantly searching for the truth, yet so many people seemed perfectly comfortable living without it.
Michael shook his head.
"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.
He unlocked his phone and read the message.
She had postponed their meeting until tomorrow night.
Michael stared at the message for a moment, allowing the information to settle.
Then he looked up with a smirk.
Well, wasn't that something?
He had been contemplating death, questioning the purpose of existence and condemning the entire human race. Yet a simple message was enough to give him another reason to stick around.
How amusing.
"I was planning to die today, but I guess I'll live long enough to survive the CRIMSON NIGHTMARE."
He cracked his knuckles, his expression shifting into something resembling amusement.
Whatever awaited him at seven in the morning, he would face it when the time came.
For now, there was a game to play.
"Alright, folks. Time to play your stupid game called life."