Michael stared, a twisted smile curling on his lips. Life had been monotonous, dull, until that girl that stupid girl snitched, exposing him to the world, revealing his vulnerabilities to the masses. And of course, this pathetic human race would relish in the weakness of others; that's what they always did. The fact no one questioned the girl only highlighted how mindless society was always believing whatever came from them, whether lies or truth. And the fools chasing him now? Men.
As Michael readied himself, one of the boys in the mob sped up. His voice trembled as he muttered, "I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't save her. I need to run." Blue veins pulsated across his skin, crackling with lightning. His eyes gleamed with terror as he sprinted, vanishing into thin air, quoting, "Don't run faster than your shadow."
But Michael knew people were predictable, stupid even. With all that speed, the boy wouldn't dare to be creative. Michael simply sidestepped, positioning his knife. The sound that followed was pure ecstasy—a slicing gush of blood mixed with the satisfying crackle of the air being torn apart.
The crowd halted, frozen in horror. Michael stood, his knife gleaming, clean and sharp. Far behind him, the boy stood, laughing. "So, you dodged the first strike—"
"Shut up, fool." Michael's voice was cold. "If you move, you die."
The boy ignored him, stepping forward. But his world flipped upside down as his head slowly separated from his neck, a fountain of blood spurting out like a ruptured pipe. **Beautiful**, Michael thought, laughing maniacally. So beautiful.
Some in the crowd trembled, terrified, while others remained unfazed—talents among them, no doubt. But how could a man without abilities kill someone they couldn't even track with their eyes? The tension in the air thickened.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the madness. The entire scene shifted, and they found themselves back in their original place.
"So, we have 149 left. Wonderful! We shall proceed. You've made it to EMOX, all thanks to that boy. Otherwise, I might have reduced your numbers out of sheer boredom," the voice drawled.
Michael paid no mind to the ramblings of the man overseeing the event. He didn't care about Emox. No, his focus was elsewhere. The girl. The one who betrayed him.
His eyes found her—short, dark-skinned, not even close to the finest, but it didn't matter. She was his target. Quietly, he approached, his steps silent, until he was just centimeters behind her. The girl turned, smiling.
"Oh my god, Michael! I've been stalking you. I want you so bad," she said, her hands roaming over him. "Wow, you have abs."
Michael's hand tightened around his knife. He had no time for this nonsense. She was a traitor, like all of them. The only person who mattered was his Beloved, not this insignificant girl. Still, he held off, curious if she had any last words worth hearing.
Just as his knife was about to cut her throat, a towering figure 7 feet tall, dwarfing Michael's own 6-foot frame—grabbed his arm. "I said, you're all in Emox now," the giant rumbled.
Michael's eyes locked with the man's. "I don't care," he spat, trying to strike again. Anticipating another interference, Michael flung his knife, knowing the man would reach for his arm. But the giant simply muttered, "Shift."
A force slammed into Michael, hurtling him backward with incredible speed. But a second before impact, Michael unleashed something he had been saving for a desperate moment. He threw two plates behind him, absorbing the blow and launching him back toward the giant and the girl. Gripping his knife with both hands, he cut through the air, angling straight for the girl, ready to kill.
The man muttered, "Shift" again, but this time, Michael tore through the invisible force, his bones shattering from the pressure, but his trajectory held. His blade pierced the girl's skull.
"Stupid monkey… protecting a stupid girl," Michael sneered, blood splattered across his face.