Trash Awakening, F-Rank Copy Passive Talent

Chapter 1

The urban areas buzzed with busy voices as overcast clouds darkened the sky, blocking the sunlight. Faint flashes of lightning danced amidst the dark sea of clouds, hinting at an impending heavy rain.

Inside an old copy shop, a young man made of wood daydreamed while exhaling smoke from his nose and mouth.

Moving slowly like an old turtle that had experienced the ups and downs of mortal life, the young man seemed lost in his thoughts.

"Brom!" Finally, a woman parked her motorbike right in front of the copy shop and gracefully removed her helmet.

"Bro, I need to print," the girl said cheerfully, her voice carrying a hint of childlike excitement.

The girl, dressed in a blue alma mater coat that suggested her education, handed a flash drive to the wooden youth who was still enveloped in smoke.

Accepting the request, the wooden figure rose and took the flash drive from the girl.

As he lazily walked, the young man asked, "What do you want to print, sis?"

"Thesis, bro!" the girl exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with a hint of pride as if she had accomplished something extraordinary.

Hearing her words, the wooden youth could only nod slightly as he carefully placed his cigarette in a secure spot.

"Ngitt ngitt ngitt!" The printer hummed.

"Cetas cetas ketas!" The sound of stapling followed.

"Pok! Pok! Pok!" The hammer struck.

"Srettt! Plas!" The sound of duct tape being torn.

Although appearing wooden, the seemingly lazy figure meticulously bound the freshly printed papers into a neatly finished book. "That's it, thirty thousand!"

After bidding farewell to the educated girl, the wooden youth resumed his usual wooden activities, sitting back down and indulging in his smoke. After several puffs, the figure lazily muttered, "So boring."

After much contemplation, the wooden figure picked up a shiny and pristine smartphone, devoid of any scratch protection or bulky casing.

Onlookers might assume that the wooden figure had recently purchased a new phone, but that wasn't the case.

Despite the appearance of an aging man on the brink of death, the wooden youth's attire and hair were meticulously arranged. Even his clothes bore the telltale signs of ironing.

The wooden youth knew how to take care of himself and his belongings. However, he found himself overcome with boredom, unsure of how to lift his spirits. After typing a few words on his phone, the figure awaited eagerly, his gaze fixed on the glossy LCD screen.

After a while, a helpless sigh escaped his lips.

"Hufttt, I've grown tired of cultivators, hunters, and these fiery shounen tales!"

Lately, the figure had come across several websites translating novels, comics, and animations from Japan, Korea, and China.

It wasn't that the young man despised the aforementioned content, but he had consumed countless stories already, leaving his mind saturated and incapable of conjuring further imagination.

Setting aside his cell phone, the wooden youth made his way to a corner of the copy room where a stack of neatly arranged books of various sizes and colors awaited.

Scanning the covers, the wooden figure carefully selected one from the assortment.

Returning to his previous spot, the wooden youth delicately flipped through the pages, his excitement growing with each word he silently muttered to himself.

The book in the figure's possession happened to be the recently printed thesis that had been left behind by its owner.

Out of sheer boredom, the wooden youth often indulged in reading various theses during his free time. At present, his enthusiasm was particularly high. After reading for a while, the wooden youth stumbled upon something that captured his interest.

"I am the Lord, and you are my slave. Surrender your life, and I shall bestow upon you death. You are my sustenance, and I am your nightmare. Resistance is futile, embrace your misfortune, for I find great joy in it. Pledge me your loyalty."

Unintentionally, the wooden youth murmured these peculiar words aloud.

"Click!"

As if breaking free from long-held chains, a sense of relief washed over the wooden youth's heart. After a brief moment of bewilderment, the young man regained his composure.

"What the hell? Am I possessed? Why was I lost in thought?" the wooden youth pondered, his confusion evident.

Glancing around cautiously, the figure shook its head in disbelief.

"Alright, let's wrap things up for now," the wooden youth muttered with a hint of fear lingering in their voice.

Unbeknownst to them, a shiver ran down their spine, as if something had stolen a fragment of their soul.

The book they had just read recounted the discovery of an enigmatic object in a temple on the island of Java. It described a peculiar stone with a flawless prism shape, boasting sharp edges that seemed as though they had been meticulously crafted with a highly precise machine.

This stone occupied the most magnificent altar and was believed to hold paramount significance within the temple. After extensive investigation, scholars examining the stone concluded that it did not originate from Earth, as no known earthly material resembled it in any way.

As time flew by, it became apparent that for those content with their pursuits, time could feel insufficient.

On the other hand, those unsatisfied with their endeavors might perceive time as a burden, not because it is scarce, but rather because it stretches on relentlessly, immersing them in a sea of despair.

Finally spurred to action after enduring prolonged boredom, the wooden youth noticed the sky transitioning into shades of red, indicating the impending arrival of night. Tidying up their disheveled belongings, the figure proceeded to move with lightness and agility.

"Test!" waterdrop exclaimed.

"Test!"

"Test!"

The sound of raindrops grew increasingly loud, causing the previously relaxed wooden youth to become frantic.

He didn't want to be caught in the rain, as he would have to ride home on his old motorbike, a gift from his father.

In a hurry, the young man began shutting off the nearest electrical sockets, hoping to make a timely escape before the rain arrived.

However, due to his haste, he neglected to turn off the power to the last remaining photocopy machine. He swiftly yanked the cable from the socket, disregarding the red light that indicated the machine was still running.

Just as he believed his task was complete, a sudden, intense pain shot through his brain.

The young man jerked violently, his hand gripping the cable, wrapped in gray plastic, moving erratically until it collided with the partially removed iron plug.

It was as if he had stumbled down a flight of stairs while simultaneously being struck by them.

The wooden youth winced from the pain in his head, only to be greeted by a piercing sensation that reverberated through his entire body. At that moment, the wooden youth felt that time was once again proving to be relative. He no longer perceived time as fast or slow.

What he experienced was...

Time is coming to a halt!

In this critical moment, the wooden youth could only hope to free his hands from the electrically conducting iron.

He prayed fervently for no further accidents to befall him. However, it seemed that his prayers were answered,

but in the opposite way...

A sharp, blinding flash obscured his vision, accompanied by the mighty roar of thunder. The unfortunate young man could only curse his luck.

Instead of being crushed by the stairs, he found himself being crushed by a large durian as if fate had conspired to end his life.

With nothing left to compromise, the wooden youth's consciousness began to fade, eventually succumbing to the darkness.

Now, he lay motionless on the floor of the copy shop. Although he believed he had been struck by lightning, there was not a single burn mark on his body.

Despite being electrocuted, there was no trace of the misfortune that had befallen him, as if it had all been a dream.

Onlookers might assume the child was merely sleeping out of exhaustion. Little did they know that this peacefully slumbering figure would never awaken to continue the monotonous story of his life.

As if bidding him farewell, the heavens unleashed heavy yet gentle rain, carefully drenching the surroundings.

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