Resurrection of a nihilistic man (1)

The being stood there, wearing its usual style of suit while being just made of black flames. It grabbed a rose that had overgrown Jack's entire body, pulling it out of the vines that it was attached to with relative ease.

When the rose got ripped out, the vines started to dry out as if they had not had a single drop of water for years and years.

They dried out and turned to dust. Jack's corpse was there, having turned into nothing but a skeleton; these clothes had not even remained as time did what it would always do. A black ooze came out of the clothes dropped on the ground.

The black ooze touched Jack's bones and entered his holes.

>>You have slept long enough, Jack. Stuck in an endless circle of consuming the lives you have taken and losing more and more of what makes you, you, now you shall rise from the past that was once you and be reshape in this world to a human that is unlike other<<

The being then stopped and just laughed; it was laughing all of a sudden, not being serious anymore in any shape or form.

The ooze that was on Jack suddenly moved excitedly and surrounded the entirety of his skeleton.

It was bulging up like a balloon and then popped with the ooze falling to the ground, and what remained there was Jack once more, not as a skeleton but with muscle and flesh, just as he looked before his death.

Jack looked at the being, his eyes devoted to all and everything. He was no better than a dead man that was just kept alive by a force outside, with the force outside being just the being itself.

Its black flames moved constantly around, but then they stopped flickering and it turned into a shapeless thing and surrounded Jack like a small clout. Covering his eyes and speaking right at his ear in a calm and quiet manner.

>>You are back to the living Jack once again. Your death is not permanent, and you know it. As you were eating the corpses of the lives you had all killed, you were not in despair as your emotions were gone, and now look at you<<.

It then reshaped back to its formal form, but without the suit, and the shape resembling more of a monster, with a big upper body and thin lower body horns on the head but composed of the black flames only.

It touched Jack's throat and spoke: >>No matter what you do, Jack, as you don't value your life anymore, that is not good in anyway. << It tilted its head and continued to speak: >>However, in this world you will learn what it means to be alive<<

It disappeared then, like ash that was brought away from the wind. The moment a breeze of air came, it vanished from the place.

>…<

Jack felt nothing.

The meaning of what it meant to be alive was a thing that had no value for him. Life was a circle, a circle from which one could never break free, but he broke free from it. He was not bound by life; whenever his time was meant to end, he lived on.

He was not dead; he did not remain dead. It was a cycle, but a different one, a cycle of suffering. He finally looked around his surroundings; everything was dead or destroyed.

He does not remember anything of the life he had lived; all he knows is that he ate. He ate and ate countless bodies.

He felt like he had to do it out of a desire from his body, not because he longed for food but rather because it was a sense of guilt, like feeling that if he ate them, his sense of guilt would be gone, and they would finally let go of him.

>>The sky is red like blood itself<< Jack said as he looked up. He then walked into this destroyed forest.

Each tree had fallen to the ground, been destroyed, and splintered in half into small pieces, while others showed signs of cuts that were precise but not meant to cut them down, a form of attack having happened.

Jack walked up the cliff to have a greater view of the area that he wanted to see, and what he saw was a wasteland.

>Had it always been like this? < Jack wondered but shrugged it off. What use was there to try to remember things that were once in his past? No spirits were after him right now making him not remember them.

His memory was never good every time. He died. His past life was blurry. He could not remember it well. The only time he can remember his past is when the spirits hold onto him like leeches, wanting to suck him dry of everything.

Jack was decapitated the next moment. Jack saw his own body and what had cut his head off.

It looked like a human, but at the same time, it did not behave like one in any way. Tendrils were coming out of its back hands, which were more like claws but made of only bones.

However, Jack was not dead; he would not die from that. The human stood there in utter fear, like it felt immense death force.

The death force came down from the cliff, and when it looked down, it saw Jack's new body fully generated. Jack stared at it.

The being felt great discomfort, and that sense of death force was all around Jack; it was still strong even though they were meters away. The being felt, however, how the sense of death force was disappearing.

It grinned its teeth and expended its tendrils to kill Jack once again. It did not understand how he survived it, but it would not question it; instead, it would kill Jack again.

The tendrils penetrated Jack's entire body, and it ripped Jack's body apart into many pieces with its tendrils.

It felt how it was ripping Jack's flesh, how every muscle and nerve was ripped off from one another, and the body itself got destroyed then.

Even though it felt clearly that what it saw was not explainable, it never saw a human ever regenerate like that.

He was human. Jack was a human; he was at least sure of it from his appearance, but what Jack was doing was not something a human could do.

Jack was regenerating; the rate at which he was regenerating was just to another level; one might say his level of generation was that of a deity itself.

A new body wasn't made, but the pieces all connected, with the blood having thickened but being as thin as a spiderweb, it was binding them all together, and the immense sense of death force returned once more, even stronger than previously.