The students stared at Michael.
The tall Black man stared back.
Shock was written across their faces. Some struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed, while others instinctively stepped away from Michael, as though standing too close to him might make them his next target.
Did he not care?
This was Emox, a place where anyone could be killed without a second thought. A place where the strong were expected to survive and the weak were nothing more than inconveniences.
Yet Michael had just murdered someone in front of everyone.
And he didn't appear remotely bothered.
But what was even more shocking was the Black man's reaction.
Instead of immediately punishing him, the man stood before the crowd, his expression firm.
"I AM GENERAL BOLA. I SHALL BE THE ONE INSTRUCTING AND TRAINING YOUR SET. WELCOME TO EMOX!"
His voice thundered across the gathering.
"ANYONE WITH A FLAME-TYPE ABILITY SHOULD BURN THE BODY. THANK YOU."
He paused, allowing his gaze to travel across the students before settling on Michael.
"MICHAEL OZOR, FIND ME."
And with that, he left.
Just like that.
Michael watched him disappear, casually wiping the useless girl's blood from his face. He wasn't particularly surprised. Of course they wanted to see him. Humans were always so predictable. Whenever they encountered something they couldn't comprehend, their first instinct was to control it. And if control proved impossible, they would simply try to eliminate it.
How boring.
"Not a chance," he muttered.
"I'm not meeting some Black monkey. If he wants to see me, he should come to me or erase me. After all, who doesn't want to die?"
He glanced at the blood staining his fingers before wiping them against his clothes.
What an exhausting day.
As the echoes of General Bola's voice gradually faded, another figure stepped forward. This time, it was a woman.
"Welcome to Emox," she announced, her voice carrying across the gathering. "You'll be teleported to your assigned rooms. Get acquainted with your roommates, because you have a long journey ahead of you."
She paused.
"Oh, I almost forgot to mention something."
Her expression remained perfectly composed.
"You cannot leave this institution until you graduate."
Silence.
For a moment, the students simply stared at her, seemingly waiting for the rest of the explanation.
Then the reactions began.
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"What do you mean we can't leave?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even Michael, who had spent most of the day wishing for death, looked genuinely stunned.
What?
He turned towards the woman.
"What do you mean I can't leave? That wasn't the agreement!"
His voice grew louder.
"You bastards! I didn't sign up for this! I only lived to hear what Almada has to say and move on!"
He clenched his fists, his frustration mounting.
Was this some kind of joke?
He had come here expecting to complete whatever ridiculous challenges they had prepared, perhaps awaken an ability, and then return to his life. He hadn't agreed to spend an unknown number of years trapped inside some institution.
He glared at the woman.
"STUPID GENDERS OF LIARS! BOTH YOU AND THE MEN SHOULD DIE!"
He muttered the words bitterly, barely containing his irritation.
Before he could say anything else, his surroundings began to distort.
And then he vanished.
When Michael opened his eyes again, he found himself standing inside a massive room.
His gaze travelled across the unfamiliar surroundings.
High-tech gadgets occupied almost every available corner. Six beds were arranged along the walls, each accompanied by a desk and a desktop computer. The room was spacious, with enough room for everyone to move around comfortably, yet something about it felt strangely confining.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that he couldn't leave.
He scanned the room.
Five other students stood around him, all seemingly adjusting to their new surroundings. Their belongings had materialised alongside them, bags and personal items scattered near the beds.
So these were his roommates.
Wonderful.
Michael looked down at his own bag, picked it up and began walking towards the nearest bed.
He barely made it a few steps before someone stepped into his path.
"Who do you think you are, choosing first?"
Michael stopped.
A boy stood before him, looking rather displeased. His expression suggested that he had already decided Michael was someone worth challenging.
Michael stared at him for a moment.
Then he sighed.
What now?
Without bothering to respond, he turned around and walked towards a bed in the opposite corner.
Unfortunately, peace was apparently too much to ask for.
The boy disappeared.
A moment later, he reappeared directly in front of Michael, wearing a smug grin.
"Not so fast."
Michael's eyes narrowed.
Teleportation.
Another one.
"What's wrong with you people?" he muttered.
He attempted to walk around him, but the boy teleported again, appearing at his side. This time, he reached out and tried to shove Michael.
Stupid humans.
Especially stupid ones.
I could end this in seconds.
Michael's patience finally snapped.
The moment the boy's hand made contact, Michael caught him by the neck. Before he could react, Michael drove him backwards, slamming his body against the iron frame of a nearby bed.
The metal rattled violently.
The boy gasped.
Michael didn't give him time to recover.
He drove a sharp kick into the boy's groin.
The student doubled over, his hands instinctively moving towards the injured area. His expression twisted in agony as he stumbled backwards.
But then he vanished.
Michael's eyes followed the empty space.
There it was again.
He anticipated the boy's next move.
The instant the student reappeared behind him, Michael twisted around, bringing his knife across in a swift motion.
The handle struck the boy with a sharp crack.
His eyes rolled backwards, and his body collapsed onto the floor.
Unconscious.
Finally.
Michael lowered his knife and exhaled.
The entire room had gone quiet.
His five roommates, who had initially seemed more interested in establishing their own positions, now stared at him with wide eyes.
Some looked frightened. Others appeared intrigued. One or two seemed to be reconsidering whether challenging Michael was worth the trouble.
Michael glanced at the unconscious boy.
Then at the others.
Well, this was awkward.
He slipped his knife away and straightened his clothes.
"Right. I'm Michael Ozor."
He looked around the room, addressing everyone.
"I don't indulge in stupid human acts, but that doesn't mean I'm an emotional murderer."
He paused, glancing briefly at the boy on the floor.
"At least, not yet."
Nobody said anything.
Michael shrugged.
"So, let's forget about the irrelevant individual lying on the floor and choose our beds. Welcome to Emox, my roomies."
He picked up his bag again, seemingly satisfied that the matter had been settled.
For a moment, he stood beside his chosen bed, staring at nothing in particular.
What a ridiculous place.
He was trapped in an institution full of people with extraordinary abilities, surrounded by idiots who seemed determined to make his life more difficult.
And for what?
He wasn't interested in becoming powerful. He wasn't interested in making friends or impressing anyone. He simply wanted to get through this nonsense.
His thoughts drifted towards her.
His Beloved.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
"I just want to see my beloved," he murmured.
He was already tired of everything.
One of the boys finally broke the silence.
"So, what's your name?"