[Time until Resurrection: 00:00:10]

[System boot up needed for Resurrection]

[System boot up at 99%]

[Searching something of value as compensation]

[Detected something of Value]

[Using most recent memories as compensation]

[System boot up Initialising]

[System protecting host's psyche]

[Commencing resurrection]

 

The feeling of resurrecting from nothing was horrifying. The pain would deal unrecoverable damage to someone's psyche. The best way to describe it would be feeling like you're being melted down and printed through a searing hot tube.

Dean was built up in layers. Being yo-yoed between death and living. Dying from shock of having no skin and gasping for air as his unfinished lungs suffocated him.

This process repeated until everything was brought back into place.

 

[Resurrection complete]

 

After the process was finished, Dean awoke with a hazy head. He breathed in deeply, filling his empty new lungs.

His eyes were unfocused. His surrounds only blurred colours. The wood was a fresh sensation for the touch of his fingers. He was like a new-born experiencing everything from the beginning.

His breaths were deep; his lungs welcoming the air.

Dean slowly sat himself up, his weak muscles fighting against him.

Only his sense of touch helped him see. His eyes merely a useless decoration.

A chill ran across Dean making him shiver.

He had nothing over him.

Dean soon realised he was stark naked in an open wooden box.

He flexed his fingers in a mesmerised trance.

Testing out his fresh newly built body, all the mistakes and years of wear were washed away.

 

[System booted up]

 

A black window appeared in front of Dean's eyes. Though everything else was blurred and still coming into focus, the text and window were clear as day.

 

[Applying Beginner Gifted Skills]

[Only one Beginner Skill available]

[Please choose one of the Three Skills]

Gallantry Lv 1

Axe Handling Lv 1

Rational Thought Lv1

 

Dean was shocked, it hadn't been long since he had left his post at the gate to go home for the night. The rest after that was fuzzy, only flashes of distorted images of him walking down a strangely lit tunnel.

Did he get drugged and left stripped naked in a wooden box? Then to top it all off, he had his awakening like this. Why else would he be seeing a window outside of the Gates?

Is that why he was in so much pain? Was it a strange mix of awakening and being drugged, high as a kite?

What sort of gang go around drug people, strip them naked and then leave them in wooden boxes?

What is the world coming to?

And what the hell does Gallantry mean? How do you even pronounce that?

"Ga..."

 

[Gallantry Lv1 Skill has been selected]

 

Dean coughed out his guts. His brand-new vocal cords have never been used, the strumming of them made him retch.

Dean didn't mean to choose the skill; he didn't know what it even meant. He just wanted to try and pronounce it. As if that would help.

His body was strange and sluggish.

They must have been some very strong drugs.

It took him a great amount of determination and willpower to even sit himself up. How is he going to get home in this state?

His head was heavy. He had no strength to hold it up. The most he could do was move his eyes without much effort.

His surroundings soon came into focus.

He was in a small chapel, the place empty of people.

The front doors were held wide open. A chilling breeze drifted through the chapel, stroking Dean's bare skin. The box he was in wasn't a box, but an open coffin.

If anyone were to find him now, they'll label him as a pervert with a strange sexual obsession for playing dead.

He could see it now: 'local youth butt naked playing dead on holy grounds. Religious protest or fetish?' on the front cover of the Times News.

Why him? He had a test to study for. What did he ever do to deserve this?

He tried to place his hand onto the side of the coffin, but his hand-to-eye coordination had gone down the gutter from the Resurrection. His control over his body comparable to as if he was adjusting to driving a new car.

He missed the side of the coffin by a solid inch, tumbling out of the coffin. His face recoiled off the wooden floor, blood trickled from his nose.

His body tumbled and rolled down the aisle. He was left on his stomach in the middle of the chapel.

This was worse, if he actually does get found out like this, his reputation would be ruined.

He was like a dead fish, his legs slow and numb. He was only able to tuck his knees in.

His bum hung high in the air.

"Well, what do we have here?"

"Shit." Dean coughed.

Dean's life was over. He had been found naked with his bum literally sticking up in the air.

He's going to be homeless and known for the rest of his life as a pervert who has a religious sexual obsession. Would the news reporters believe him if he told them he was drugged and stripped naked by a gang? Maybe...

But left in a chapel? Who would do that in a such a well-respected place?

"I-it's not what it looks like." Dean replied with his voice rough and coarse.

"What should it look like?"

An ice-cold hand touched his thigh, it startled him and started Dean's body into action.

"Woah, Woah! Stop!"

He jumped to his feet, covering himself with his hands and arms. The shock of the ice-cold hand snapped him back into full control of his body.

"I'm not some sort of pervert! Someone drugged me!"

Dean saw two men. One stood tall, while the other was hunched over.

The tall one smirked, "Drugged?"

Dean has seen the man before. He's a host of a popular tv show 'Two minutes with the dead.'

He wasn't much of a fan and has only seen clips on YouTube that a friend shown him.

That friend was an avid fan, she had tried to get in for weeks, she wanted to say a proper farewell to her deceased ex.

"He's an Awakened that has the power to bring back the dead! Wouldn't it be a dream to talk to Paul again? To say a proper farewell after the crash?" She said, her coffee cup clutched in her hand, her eyes were bright, connected to an enthusiastic smile.

She sent him a text after months of no contact between the two, it wasn't that they both grew apart, just that they grew up.

Both of them sat in a loud Starbucks, the sound of the steamer chimed as the barista ground coffee beans for customers.

Dean has never been a fan of the hot drinks that came from there, but she wouldn't accept no, and brought him a drink as a kind gesture.

That was ages ago, Dean hadn’t seen her since, but he remembered the way her eyes lit up at the idea of talking to Paul.

"You're that guy from tv, right?" Dean asks him, grabbing a cloth from over a bench that was near him.

"A fan." He smiled.

The host was a man in his early thirties. He looked good.

He was well built and had a healthy tanned complexion.

His hair was slicked back and greased. His eyebrows trimmed, sitting on top of a five o'clock shadow. The man wore a white that was tucked into black trousers, the top buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his chest.

His dress shoes were clean and polished.

The host of the show 'Two minutes with the dead' had an air of the upper class, the fame treating him well. It was evident with the expensive Rolex watch that sat on his wrist.

He lived a life Dean could never dream of.

"Would you like an autograph?" He smirked, clicking to his companion, signalling him to come over. His companion approached him slump, their complexion was an unhealthy pale shade.

The host's companion searched their jacket and pulled out a notebook. He held it out to the host.

The host smiled at Dean and pulled out an expensive pen from his pocket, signing his signature onto a page of the notebook with skill and speed. Showing that he had written it thousands of times before.

He slid the pen back into his pocket and tore the page out, handing it back to his colleague.

The slump man headed to Dean with the signature in hand.

As he held out the signature for Dean to take, the man pulled something from his back and swung it at Dean.

Dean jumped back, his arm cut by the blade.

 

[Gallantry Lv1 Activated]

[Your mind has prepared for battle; your courage has increased]

 

The cut on Dean's arm burned as the blood dripped down his skin.

"Why did you jump back?" The Host laughed.

A window appeared in front of Dean as he gripped his bleeding arm.

 

[Mission: Last Man Standing]

Difficulty: F

Clear conditions: Be the last human alive in zone.

Time limit: 1 hour

Rewards: 100 points

Failure: Death

 

"Shit."