"Hah!" Masaru jerked up, sitting bolt upright on the bed, sweat clinging to his skin as his chest heaved. He frantically looked around and quickly recognized his room.
"What the fuck…" he gasped, staring wide-eyed at his right hand, which was still intact. The last thing he remembered was that creature… that monster… and then darkness. He was sure he had died. And yet, here he was—alive, whole, and somehow... stronger?
"Turned out it was a dream? What a terrible nightmare…" he muttered, swinging his right arm around, flexing his fingers and rotating his wrist. It didn't feel like a dream. But the pain was gone, his hand was still attached, and his body felt unusually light—almost as if it had been upgraded.
Then, without warning, a sharp pain erupted in his forehead. Masaru clutched at his head, staggering slightly as an overwhelming flood of memories that were not his own surged into his mind.
