A transmission, a distribution—as he absorbed it all.
Her tears soaked his shoulder, and with them, the unbearable weight of loss.
Michael took in the pain, the anguish of the grieving mother.
For all his disdain toward humanity, Michael-Ozor was still human, bound to the frailties he loathed yet could not escape.
The students watched in silence.
The same boy who had mercilessly slaughtered their peers now stood before them, embracing a grieving mother.
It was an image beyond comprehension.
Admiration and envy mixed among the crowd, though none could truly understand Michael.
Elizabeth, standing among them, murmured, “He really is complex.
I thought I understood him… but his mind is beyond anything human.”
Far to the right, Precious stared, her face pale with shock.
“You’ve changed.
You’re not the boy I broke.
You’ve become unbreakable—impossible to decipher.”
Above them all, Bola hovered, a twisted grin pulling at his lips.
His voice oozed mockery as he muttered, “Well, Remmy, your son truly is a spectacle.
A shame you’ll never see it.”
Michael released the mother from his embrace.
He leapt back to the ground, landing softly, as though weightless.
His gaze swept over the students, piercing through the wall of silent judgment.
Without a word, he walked toward Elizabeth.
Stopping before her, he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.
Before she could respond, he turned away, leaving her standing there, her thoughts in disarray.
The students parted as Michael moved through them, their eyes following him, but he didn’t care.
Their stares were insignificant, their opinions weightless.
His thoughts, sharp and unyielding, turned inward.
“Why would Bola do all this?” he pondered.
“He doesn’t care about any of this.
Was he testing me?
Trying to measure my response?”
He stopped suddenly, glancing upward toward the man who floated smugly above.
Michael’s lips tightened, and a cold resolve settled in his eyes.
“Then I’ll test him.”