Staring at the brand-new walls served as a grim reminder to the students that, had it not been for Bola's intervention, they would all be dead—casualties of a clash born from entirely opposing ideologies. As the students filtered through the corridors toward their dorms, Iyi burned with quiet fury. Michael simply didn't care about Elizabeth; he had literally killed her, yet she still harbored feelings for a guy who relentlessly placed himself above everyone else.
The corridors buzzed with movement. Emox was rigidly structured by year, each block separated and reinforced to withstand escalating tiers of destructive power. Inside the first-year block, Michael stewed in frustration, letting his surging emotions completely take the wheel. He was pissed. I was pissed. Look at him, and look at the rest of them—all disgusting. Might as well destroy myself with them. I killed even Elizabeth, and unfortunately, I don't feel an atom of guilt.
"Of course you don't feel an atom of guilt," a seductive feminine voice purred.
Michael recognized the voice instantly, choosing to ignore it entirely. To keep his temper from boiling over, he turned and walked away, even as a relentless internal voice screamed in his head: Kill them, they don't like you. Unbeknownst to Michael, his right eye had shifted in color. Suppressing the violent static in his mind, he made it to his room, grabbed a knife, and jammed it straight into his brain just to forcefully shut down his senses. Death was all Michael craved anymore.
Across the grounds, the rest of the students finally reached their quarters. Inside the girls' dorm, Nmesoma—better known as Precious—stared down at a horrifying sight. A dark-skinned girl with a gaping hole in her skull lay dead on the floor right in front of her. Precious's eyes glowed a vibrant pink as she activated her ability: prophecy cast upon the corpse of Nome. Nome, the girl who had loved Michael to death, only to die by his hand despite him hating her until the very end.
"I command you to be his nightmare, to haunt his dreams," Precious whispered, her voice echoing in the confined space. "I want you to infect his mind until all he can think of is me."
At her command, Nome's lifeless body twitched and rose. [Go to the previous chapters to find out who Nome is.] .
Nome smiled blankly at Precious and replied, "Yes, my lord." Instantly, the corpse dissolved into fine dust, whispering into the air as it vanished, "Michael, I'm coming for you."
Back in his own room, Michael sat at his study desk, forcing himself to dive deep into the mechanics of energy usage. Every single one of his fights pushed the absolute threshold of death because his tactical ability to predict and study opponents still fell short against heavy-hitters. Vincent had practically killed him, forcing Michael to rely on newfound energy and a desperate self-destruction attempt; a clash with Zion would have ended the exact same way if Emma hadn't intervened.
A sudden, sharp knock broke his concentration. Michael stood up to open the door—and a fist came rocketing straight toward his face.
Michael barely managed to dodge the sucker punch as his roommates watched in absolute shock.
"You can't keep treating her like that, Michael."