"HELL AT MY DOOR "
Eye to eye with death itself.
A sharp, broad, double-edged Excalibur jutted from the figure's shadowed robe, his eyes glowing a deep, merciless crimson as I lay prostrate on the cold floor of an empty temple—somewhere near the nave. I clung to fear like armor. My chest was bare, my breath unsteady, and in my arms I held something… no, someone.
A girl.
Her eyes sent a torrent of electricity through my scalp—like staring at heaven without blinking. Yet her aura carried something darker, something ancient that rattled my soul.
"She will kill you," the figure intoned, his voice deep and ritualistic, like a Gregorian chant echoing inside stone walls. "The curse of heaven and the creeping serpent of the abyss. Give her to me… and I will leave."
Paralyzed by her gaze, caught somewhere between terror and awe, I knew one thing: choosing her would cost me everything. Mama always said, "When you fall, let it be heard."
"Sorry, knight in shining armor—or whatever the hell you are—but even God knows I don't give a damn."
Fearless—or stupid—I dared him to strike. It felt like speaking directly to the devil.
"Love," he mused, voice dripping like poison, "such a curse coated in rubies. You will die like your master. A test of love has made you foolish… bold enough to speak back. I almost like your style."
His eyes burned with a desire for annihilation.
"Brace yourself, seed of the cross."
The light around him darkened, rage blooming like wildfire.
"Burn it to the ground."
The corpses of death obeyed. They tore through the dust and rose, the world collapsing around me—
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I jolted awake. Hyper-reality dissolved. That sound could only mean one thing: the campus bus.
My room looked like a zoo committed a crime scene—clothes everywhere, TV on mute, metal scraps scattered across the floor. The bus horn wailed, dragging me out of paralysis.
If you can't change reality, change the background.
I blasted my Spectra speaker, trying to fake a sense of order.
"What the— I never ironed."
Already late, I wiped down my dirty trousers, shoved kitchenware into closets, kicked clothes under the bed, and stuffed trash between couch cushions. Everything looked almost presentable—except one shoe. Easy fix: kick it behind the door.
In record time I masked the chaos, sprayed cologne, brushed my teeth, and broke Martha's legendary three-minute shower record. My hair was a mess, but who cared? I bolted out the door.
Of course, I'd forgotten my project report. And the actual project. Going back? Not happening. I scribbled a fake report using some random YouTube video on classified military tech. Half the class used ChatGPT for their assignments anyway.
Welcome to Kingstone College and Academy—the country's most elite institution for brilliant minds… and the fancy fortress Dad insisted I attend. People here ate hamburgers with forks. I was the party animal in a kingdom of robots.
"When the inverse of sine r is equated to the tangent of angle theta, following the law of reversibility of light…"
The professor's voice smothered the lecture hall in logic. Physics was the air he breathed. I slipped inside as quietly as I could—almost.
Two hundred heads turned as I stepped on Andrea's squishy stress ball.
"I expect total silence," the professor said with his razor-sharp British accent, finishing a diagram. "And Mike, before you sit… why don't you give us a quick update on your project?"
A one-way ticket to hell.
"Actually, sir," I croaked, "I think the whole class should present."
"If you took my wife to the labour ward, then dare keep giving a damn."
His accent was really starting to hurt. No escaping now.
"Good morning, class," I began, staring into the void.
"Good morning, Michelangelo Jaden," they droned in unison.
Andrea smirked. Girls giggled. Nerds prepared to pounce. Mama always said: Pray hard to keep the devil away.
"Michelangelo…" the professor said, crescent-moon grin sharpening. "We're waiting."
"Creep!" Andrea shouted. "We all did ours. You shy or something?"
Adrenaline spiked.
"My report is right here," I said. "One of the greatest breakthroughs in history. Not some elementary science-fair project—this will redefine warfare and rewrite humanity."
"A toaster," Andrea deadpanned.
Laughter erupted.
"If your mama had bought you a brain…" I shot back without thinking.
Silence. The professor's cold stare bored into me.
"No hard feelings," I muttered. "Anyway—"
"Stop," he snapped, voice dropping an octave. "I told everyone last Monday to bring their inventions. You come empty-handed, insult a classmate, and embarrass my lecture. Foolish. Your mother naming you Michelangelo was a mistake. Replace the 'angel' with 'demon.' That's what you are—the burden of this class. You never belonged here."
His words struck harder than expected. The class murmured. My vision flickered. Old nightmares surfaced—whispers, shadows.
"Sir, look—his eyes. There's blood," the class nerd said.
"As long as I don't see it," the professor replied, "he presents. Or he's out of my class for good."
I gripped the desk, dizzy. Something inside me shifted, like another mind waking up.
I tore the fake report in half and started speaking from some place I didn't recognize.
"I built an armor—sleek, flexible. It absorbs fifty kilowatts of kinetic energy and releases double. A walking transformer with angelic wings, powered by an infinite source."
"That's it?" the professor scoffed. "My grandmother could do that."
"What's the power source?" Mikey asked.
I smiled. "The Emerald Diamond."
The room fell silent. I paced, spitting out advanced physics I barely understood. Even the professor looked up, shock flashing briefly across his face. Nerds scribbled like mad.
"That's impossible," he finally said. "How could someone like you—knowing your family—accomplish that?"
"I like your mindset," I said. "It helps me understand my own potential."
He laughed dryly. "You're brave, Mike. A wager, then. Let's see what you do next… 'teacher to be.'"
He slid a document across the desk. Something compelled me to sign.
"The boy who lost the bet," he mocked, voice strangely deeper.
I signed in red. Whoever lost would leave the school—no complaints, no witnesses.
A siren blared. Students stampeded out, knocking me down. Alone in the empty hall, I saw auras creeping in—dark at the edges, then blinding white to my right. Both vanished.
My knees buckled. I collapsed, trembling, staring at the door.
Then—
In a single blink, she appeared.
The girl from my dreams walked into the classroom.
"Is this the physics class?"
Her voice froze me where I stood.