Tommorow, Stuck On Repeat

3214 YEARS AGO IN CHOREES

Micheal stood on the edge of the eastern island of Choreees, staring into the abyss below. The sound of the wind howled around him, a constant reminder of how high they were above the rest of the world. Choreees was made up of three distinct lands, each a floating island connected by massive, rope-like bridges as thick as giants.

To the west lay the Land of Flames, a fiery wasteland of endless infernos that earned its nickname, "Hell 2.0." Few dared to tread there. To the north was the Land of Snow, where a perpetual blizzard blanketed the region. This was the domain of CORE, the tyrannical ruler of Choreees, who resided in an imposing, ice-encrusted castle. Finally, to the east was the Land of Paradise, where Micheal now stood. Paradise was true to its name: warm, temperate weather, luxury at every turn, and an unsettling, enforced perfection.

But for Micheal, even paradise felt like a prison.

He stared out at the seemingly endless sky, his mind swirling with thoughts of despair. Once, this floating world had been ruled by a noble king, a leader who had united the three lands. But the king was dethroned and killed in what CORE called an "accident." The scientist-turned-dictator had seized power, dividing the islands and its people into stark contrasts: prosperity for some, misery for others.

CORE was no ordinary tyrant. Obsessed with achieving superhuman abilities, he had mutated his own body through grotesque experiments, gaining the power to alter his form at will. These experiments extended to the people of Choreees, who were subjected to horrific tests in the name of "progress." Many died or were left crippled, while those who survived were often granted unnatural powers—or cursed with debilitating side effects.

CORE's rule was absolute. He implemented brutal laws, including a mandatory execution for anyone over the age of fifty, claiming it was to preserve resources. He forced citizens to fight in bloody arenas for his own amusement and imposed crushing taxes that left the lower classes destitute. To make matters worse, he had cloaked Choreees in secrecy, making it invisible to the outside world. The only way to reach Choreees now was through the Presence Eyes—a unique ability that allowed individuals to sense and connect to the islands, much like tuning into a signal. But even that was rare and unreliable.

Micheal sat on the edge of the cliff. He hated CORE. Hated what he had done to their home. Choreees was nothing more than a floating nightmare disguised as paradise.

The thought of escape flickered in his mind like a fragile candle. Could he leave this place? Could he even dream of freedom? He jotted his thoughts into a small notebook he carried, a habit that helped him cope with the crushing weight of it all.

"Yo, Micheal."

The voice startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. Turning, he saw Doug approaching. Doug was dressed in his usual attire: a worn leather jacket over a black shirt, matching pants, and a beanie that barely contained his unruly hair.

"Yo," Micheal replied, his voice heavy.

Doug walked up to stand beside him, gazing out at the endless expanse of sky and clouds. "You know the selection is today, right?"

Micheal's eyes widened. "It's today?"

Doug nodded solemnly. "Yep."

Micheal exhaled sharply, turning his gaze back to the abyss. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Let's just hope we're not selected."

Doug nodded again but said nothing.

The selection was a cruel tradition. Citizens were chosen at random to participate in CORE's experiments. Those who survived might gain powers or status, but for most, it meant death or permanent disfigurement. The entire process was a grotesque gamble, one that few escaped unscathed.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind howled between them, carrying with it the weight of their unspoken fears. Micheal's thoughts raced. Could he escape before his name was called? Could he do anything to fight back?

But deep down, he knew the truth. In Choreees, there was no escaping CORE. Not yet.

"Let's just hope," Micheal muttered again, more to himself than to Doug.

The two stood there, silent and still, as the looming shadow of the selection hung heavy over their heads.

Suddenly, a group of guards appeared behind Doug and Micheal. Their heavy boots stomped against the ground, the sound echoing ominously in the air. Micheal didn't need to turn around to know why they were there. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

"You've been selected," one of the guards announced, though it wasn't really necessary. Doug and Micheal had dreaded this moment for as long as they could remember.

Without another word, the guards motioned for them to follow. Resigned, Doug and Micheal exchanged a glance before falling in line. The trek to the Land of Snow was grueling. The icy wind whipped at their faces, and each step on the frost-covered ground sent a chill straight to their bones. The towering castle came into view, its jagged spires gleaming under the dim light of the perpetually overcast sky.

The castle itself was an unsettling marvel. Built entirely of ice, its walls shimmered like glass, reflecting distorted images of those who approached. Candles lined the hallways, their flames casting eerie shadows on the frozen walls. The heat from the candles was no match for the bitter cold that permeated every corner.

Micheal's breath fogged in front of him as they entered, joining seven others who had also been selected. Fear etched deep lines into their faces, and Micheal could feel their unease mirror his own. The ice pricked at their skin like needles, the cold so intense it felt alive.

They were led into a dimly lit chamber. The room was cavernous, yet oppressive, with its frigid air and the faint drip of melting ice echoing off the walls. Seven chairs stood in a semi-circle, each flanked by tall glass tubes that glowed faintly with a pale, blue light.

The guards forced them into the chairs, chaining them down tightly. The metal cuffs bit into Micheal's wrists, leaving no room for escape. He scanned the room, noting the frightened faces of the others as they squirmed in their restraints.

Then came the sound of footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, and menacing, the steps grew louder with each passing second. The guards snapped to attention, their stiff postures betraying their fear. Micheal's heart raced as he strained his eyes to see who it was, though deep down, he already knew.

The figure emerged from the shadows, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight. CORE.

His slicked-back hair gleamed faintly in the pale light, and his inverted, peach-colored eyes glowed like those of a predatory beast. Thin, dark veins crisscrossed his face, pulsating faintly, as though something unnatural coursed through his body. He wore a sleek, all-black suit that clung to his unnaturally angular frame, topped with a black fedora that cast a shadow over his already haunting features.

The room fell silent as CORE stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the chained captives. His mere presence seemed to draw the heat from the air, making the cold even more unbearable.

A sudden grunt broke the silence. An old man among the captives strained against his restraints, forcing himself to the ground, chair and all, in a desperate attempt to bow. The others followed suit, their chains rattling as they struggled to lower themselves in submission.

Doug hesitated but eventually did the same, gritting his teeth as he forced himself down.

Micheal, however, remained seated, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto CORE.

The ruler of Choreees stopped in front of Micheal, his eerie eyes narrowing. The tension in the room thickened as the two stared each other down. Micheal could feel Doug's pleading gaze on him, silently begging him to bow. But Micheal didn't move.

A faint, almost amused smile played on CORE's lips as he tilted his head slightly. "You…." he said, his voice smooth but dripping with menace.

Micheal gulped, his throat dry and constricted. He clenched his fists to stop them from trembling, but it was no use. Fear coiled in his gut like a snake ready to strike. Despite this, the words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

"CORE… you… abomination," he muttered, his voice shaky but audible enough to carry through the freezing air.

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. Eyes widened, and a hush fell over the captives as they stared at Micheal in disbelief. His own breath hitched as he realized what he'd just said. He bit his tongue, instantly regretting his outburst.

CORE remained motionless, his expression unreadable. His eerie, inverted eyes locked onto Micheal, showing neither anger nor surprise.

Then it happened.

An invisible force swept through the room—a presence so oppressive it felt like death itself had entered. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as if the oxygen had been sucked away. A sickly, metallic scent filled the chamber, the unmistakable stench of decay.

Micheal's chest tightened as the overwhelming sensation washed over him. It was as if every cell in his body screamed at him to flee, yet his legs refused to move. The sheer force of the presence made his vision blur, distorting the edges of reality.

One by one, the others and the guards began to collapse. Their bodies slumped in their chairs, eyes rolling back as they fell unconscious. Even Doug, who had always been the strong one, couldn't withstand it.

Within moments, the room was silent save for Micheal's ragged breaths.

CORE stood unmoved, his gaze still fixed on Micheal. His piercing eyes felt like they were cutting straight into his soul, dissecting every thought, every fear. The faint smile on CORE's lips returned, though it carried no warmth—only malice.

Micheal felt his knees weaken, his body trembling uncontrollably. The oppressive weight crushed him, making it impossible to think, let alone move. He tried to speak, to apologize, to beg for mercy, but no words came.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the presence vanished. CORE blinked once, and the crushing force lifted.

Micheal remained frozen in place, his chest heaving as he struggled to process what had just happened. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion.

Before he could fully register it, darkness crept into the edges of his vision. His body, overwhelmed and drained, gave out. The last thing he saw was CORE's cold, unflinching stare before everything went black.