Chapter 1 - Rising from the Dead
Don't you hate it when Final Destination happens to you? I sure did.
My death came from a fan. I was sitting on a couch and chilling when one of the screws decided to quit its job and sent a fan blade toward me. The sharp edge broke through the cage and cleanly sliced my neck.
So, yeah, I dropped dead. Dying from suffocation and blood loss at the same time sounded fancier than getting slammed by a truck-kun, but I digress.
I don't know how, but my consciousness left my body instantly. When I come to my senses, I see the world, or something similar, from space. My vision descends as though I were a rocket flying straight to Earth. I travel through the atmosphere and reach the clouds. Mountainous terrain greets me as soon as I exit the cloud mass.
I can't move. I keep looking down as the ground comes closer.
The landscape gets clearer. I see a field full of dead bodies and a massive pit full of corpses. Crows and vultures flock in the sky, but they don't seem to detect my presence. I fly through them.
And then, I fall into that mass grave.
There is no pain or collision. My vision gets sucked into something, and my vision warps into the first POV.
I feel heavy. My eyelids are heavy.
Something presses on top of me and my limbs.
The stickiness and wetness crawl on my skin. It feels like a billion ants are parading on me.
I open my eyes.
It is pitch black.
I wake up in a body that I somehow possess. As soon as I regain my full senses, the putrid odor of rotten blood and human flesh hits my nose. My sensors urge me to rise to my feet, but I can't move. The weight of the corpses on top of me presses me against the floor. My hands, arms, legs, stomach, and feet are all numb as if sharp needles had been repeatedly piercing my skin.
I cannot breathe!
It dawns on me. If I am resurrected, this body has already been buried!
I have to get out!
I push the dead bodies aside and dig my way up.
Blood and unknown flesh fall on my face as I swim my way up. The saltiness and bitterness of human blood fill my nose and mouth. I spit everything out as I inhale every bit of air.
My arms and back graze something sharp, and I feel the cut. I assume that metal armor, blades, or shrapnel might have scratched my skin, but I have no time to bother with those.
A second feels like hours. A minute feels like an eternity.
My lungs compress and expand, demanding more air. My chest is burning, and my heart clenches itself so hard that I can't think straight. Using the last bit of my strength, I punch the bodies above me.
I pray. I hope that I'm not digging the wrong way.
After crawling over another body, my eyes perceive lights. My face caught a glimpse of the wind.
I open my mouth wide and gasp for air.
I survive!
God, that was too close!
I thank God that the mass grave isn't properly buried.
From this point, I get to take my time to catch a breath. After minutes of struggle, I reach the surface.
Upon standing up, I look down to where a thousand bodies are piled up. I deeply inhale once more.
The air is not clean. It is so dusty, smelly, and rotten that I almost vomit. Fortunately, there is nothing in my stomach. I'm unsure whether I should thank the former owner of this body or pity him. The poor bastard was starving before his death.
I may have survived the suffocation and being buried alive, but the danger is far from over. I glance at my arms and legs.
There are cuts and wounds. Rotten blood from these corpses might have gotten into my blood vessels.
Yeah, these wounds are going to rot soon. I need an antibiotic ASAP. Moreover, I need food.
Because of how malnourished this body is, I struggle to stand straight. Crows and vultures give me a weird look as though I were a piece of fried chicken coming back to life and walking out of the kitchen.
It takes me several minutes to adjust to my new vision and body balance. I'm no longer numb, but I'm thirsty and hungry. I start looking for food.
No living human is within sight, only corpses, crows, and vultures. Obviously, I'm not desperate enough to eat human corpses or poke a hornet's nest by capturing a crow. Hundreds of crows will swarm and kill me on the spot if I harm one of them.
Surrounding the mass graves is the aftermath of a big battle. Broken armor, arrows, wooden shields, and spears litter the field. As for armor and usable tools, they might have been cleaned by the victor army because I don't see any.
I look down. My two bare feet and bloody body attract a lot of flies and worms from the muddy ground, soaked in red liquid. I find myself wearing a crude yellowish tunic with a hole in the stomach area. A yellowish rag coiled around my neck.
Pulling the rag-scarf out from my neck, I inspect it, spreading it wide. I discover a rat symbol on the scarf.
The color is faded, but I recognize it.
"Ah, shit."
The image brings back a lot of memories, reminding me of an NPC faction from a hack-and-slash video game I used to play.
I have no problem with this being a game world. Rather, I have no F to give. I just wanna live.
The insignia belongs to a country, Avaritia, that promotes slavery. They occasionally dispatch troops to foreign countries to abduct young women and children to become their slaves.
I hurry and toss the scarf and my yellow tunic away before someone from the other factions sees me. I'd rather walk around half-naked than wear the Avaritia faction's uniform.
Walking one step at a time, I drag my feet away from the mass grave and corpses. Along the way, I stumble upon the body of a soldier from another faction. He wears intact leather armor, but there's a metal javelin stuck in his chest.
I yank the javelin out. The spear shaft is made of crude iron or something, since it is as heavy as a standard barbel on Earth. The javelin tip, however, is detached and is stuck in the dead body.
I put the useless shaft away and loot the body, replacing my dirty clothes and pants with the uniform of that soldier. After putting on a set of hay boots, leather pants, and leather armor, I search for more bodies for supplies or food. Unfortunately, these troopers don't carry supply pouches or belongings.
I want to search more, but my stomach growls, stopping me from being a loot goblin.
My mind wanders. I start thinking of random food and the good life on Earth.
"I wish I could just break some jars and spawn some turkeys."
I can't help but think of Musou games that I played before my death. In that game, players could break some objects to find food items, which replenished the player's HP bar. I doubt I could miraculously find one here.
Although my logical side doesn't believe in such coincidences, my heart prays for a miracle. I look around, searching for a suspicious lone jar, crates, or destructible objects that stand out in the wild.
On my right, 100 meters away, there is a gray ceramic vase as tall as my chest, glistening under the sunlight.
I want to rub my eyes, but my hands are too dirty. I'm afraid I might cause an eye infection and lose my eyesight. Thus, I blink and shake my head several times in disbelief, like a certain meme.
"Nah. It's just a vase."
I laugh with my dry and cracked voice. My throat is so parched that I start thinking of drinking the blood puddles around me.
Before I lose my sanity, I struggle and pray for a miracle while my feet bring me to the ceramic vase. I peek inside.
It is empty.
"Heh, of course."
Obviously, nobody would leave behind a whole roasted chicken in a vase in the middle of nowhere, especially on a battlefield.
Venting my frustration, I grab a broken spear nearby and smack the vase.
It doesn't break. The vase tilts and falls sideways, rolling.
"Son of a…!"
My strength is pathetic, or rather, this body is too weak!
Well, I might die of starvation and severe blood infection soon. I might as well die with dignity. At least, I should smack this crappy vase and get this stupid hope out of my head.
I raise the spear overhead and swing down.
The vase breaks with a clank. Pieces of hardened ceramic scatter.
Nothing else happens.
"Yeah, thought so."
Being able to return to life is already a miracle. I shouldn't expect more.
I toss away the half-broken spear and turn around. Instead of searching these bodies for food, I'd rather leave this place before I get an additional lung infection or random diseases. Death by blood infection is already bad enough.
As I turn, the corners of my eyes spot a beacon of light. A strong scent of cooked chicken comes from behind me. All crows and vultures turn their heads as well.
I widen my eyes and look behind me.
There's a floating roasted turkey and a jar of wine. Its glowing halo and aura attract me toward it.