"It hurts…"
The thought never left Ren's mind. It wasn't just pain—it was his entire existence.
The constant agony of his failing body.
How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months?
Time had lost all meaning within the sterile white walls of the hospital.
The same blank ceiling.
The same buzzing machines.
The same hushed voices from the hallway, whispering as if he couldn't hear.
"He's not going to make it much longer."
"It's best to keep him comfortable."
"Poor kid."
Ren clenched his teeth, fingers clawing at the stiff sheets as a wave of pain surged through him.
There was no relief. Nor was there peace.
This wasn't living. This was torture.
His gaze drifted to the machine beside him—the one pumping air into his lungs, keeping his useless body tethered to this cruel world.
He wanted out.
Not because he was weak. Not because he was afraid.
But because there was nothing left.
The doctors couldn't save him. His body wouldn't heal. His future had already been erased.
"I just…want it to stop."
His fingers trembled as he reached for the cord.
His heart pounded as his fingertips made contact.
He took one final, shaky breath.
He was done.
With a resolute pull—
HISS
The machine exhaled its last breath. The beeping slowed, and the air grew thin.
And for the first time in a long while, Ren felt something resembling relief.
"It's over…finally."
His vision darkened as his frail body sank into the mattress.
His mind drifted, slipping into quiet emptiness.
Darkness swallowed him.
An infinite abyss.
Weightless.
Silent.
No sound. No pain. No self.
This was peace.
This was—
No.
It cracked.
The void shattered, a wrenching force pulling him from the abyss.
He gasped for air, lungs burning as if he'd been drowning.
Then—
Ren's eyes snapped open.
His fingers twitched, sinking into the ground beneath him—not sheets, not a mattress.
His breath hitched as he sat up, taking in the nightmare that surrounded him.
"Wh-what the…" His voice cracked.
This wasn't death.
This wasn't right. The crimson sky twisted overhead, flickering with embers that never fell. Jagged, blackened trees loomed in every direction, their bark peeling like charred flesh.
"No…no, no, no. This isn't real," He whispered, eyes wide in shock. "I was...I was in the hospital. I was dying. I was—"
He paused, and swallowed hard, fingers clenching around his throat.
His breathing was too even, too steady.
"I can…I can breathe?"
The agony that had defined his existence for so long was gone.
When he stood, his legs shook beneath him as if they hadn't borne weight in years.
He froze, staring down at his body. Instead of the hospital gown, he wore a tattered cloak, its ashen fabric frayed at the edges.
"Where am I? What is this place?"
His voice trembled as he spun in place, trying to comprehend this world.
He should have been dead. He had made sure of it.
And yet…here he was.
Then—a growl, low and guttural. Behind him.
A shiver ran down his spine.
As he turned to the sound, they emerged from behind cover.
Glowing red eyes.
Not one. Not two. Dozens.
Wolves—or what had once been wolves. Their bodies stretched too thin, ribs protruding through matted fur. Jaws hung open, too wide, lined with jagged, rotting teeth. Their eyes, burning ember-red, never blinked. They weren't just hungry. They were starving.
Ren took a slow, shaky step back.
The leading wolf lowered its head, black saliva dripping from its maw.
As he turned to flee, the wolves lunged.
He didn't even have time to scream before the first set of fangs sank into his shoulder with a gruesome crunch, sending him stumbling to the ground.
Ren gasped in agony, hand shooting out instinctively to pull free.
But the wolf's teeth were embedded too deep.
A second jaw snapped onto his leg, shaking its head to tear at flesh. Another clamped his forearm, crunching through muscle.
"Get off—!" He pleaded, words lost in a scream as a wolf clamped onto his ribs, cracking them with sickening force. The air left his lungs in a cruel rush.
One other wrenched his left arm back, tearing it from the socket.
The pain surged as the pack tore into him from all sides.
Snapping bones.
Ripping muscles.
Claws raking flesh.
Searing agony flooded his senses as hot blood spattered the ground.
"Please! Please! Get off! Get off me!"
His mind went blank as something sharp gouged into his stomach, a snout burrowing into his organs. His ribs cracked further as the wolf shook his chest violently. Through its bloodied teeth, Ren saw it—his own heart, still beating, still pumping blood.
"I can't! I can't…"
He choked on his own blood as his body was torn apart.
Then—a final snap.
A crushing bite to the skull.
And then—the wolves stopped.
Above, somewhere in the crimson sky, a swarm of crows tore across in disjointed patterns.
The wolves ears pricked as though sensing something.
Suddenly, the pack fled, following the crows' path as if an unseen threat had arrived.
Alone now, Ren struggled to breathe, blood pooling beneath him.
He should be dead. He had felt them tear him apart. He had felt death. But he wasn't.
Not yet.
His body—broken, shredded—was regenerating, slowly and painfully.
Shattered bones grinded back into place.
Muscles and tendons stretched over, snapping into position.
Ren clenched his teeth, gasping for air.
"Stop!" He pleaded. "Please…"
But the healing didn't stop.
At this point, it couldn't...
His body forced itself to live—even against his will.
When it was over, Ren was collapsed, tears streaking down his newly structured face.
He hadn't been brought back to life.
He had been forced to live.