A Gods Eater Burst / Gods Eater 2 fanfiction by Lushard.

Re - Chapter 3

{ Resurrection }

? – ? – 2074 / ?:?:?


The word had occured to Ray so many times during his initiation as a Gods Eater. He had wondered how his life would end one day, and how it would.

Everyone in the world knew that being a Gods Eater was a choice to a short-lived life, although yes, since one's needs would be well-provided, maybe a life a short life free from worries was something many yearned for. It was a gamble for most people, yet a must for a certain group of trainees who had been placed under Fenrir's wings since birth. For Ray, though, it had been a choice the people around him had made in his stead. He'd had no saying in the matter.

They had him transferred to their Branch in Europe the moment Fenrir had found that he had been a possible match for their New-Type project. (Yes, they had forced every child under the age of seventeen in the small residential area he'd lived in to have a drip of their blood taken for research). His guardian, although a bit reluctant to entrust him to Fenrir's care at first, had then been convinced by Director Schicksal himself that a life as a New-Type Gods Eater would be different from a normal Gods Eater. His chance for survival, for example, had been guaranteed to be 25% above the Old-Type ones.

The following week, a call from Asia had him transferred yet again to a new place: The Far East Branch. They had said that the area was in need for a New-Type since an Aragami breakout had occurred in the land, causing much damage and threatening adults and children alike.

Upon leaving his homeland, Ray had expected his life to be a rough and plain journey, a quiet life without music and colors. But he had been wrong. His life as a Gods Eaters, although surrounded by deaths and blood, had been one he'd truly enjoyed in his short lifetime. He had met so many different people, had forged bonds with a few he'd truly cared about, and had also learned many things from them. After overcoming many hardships with laughter and tears, he'd even naively wished for peace, and for his life to continue as he'd led.

But everything had ended too quickly.

Ray's consciousness had drifted the moment he had been stabbed by the wolf-like-Aragami's poisonous tail. Coldness and fear had gripped his heart, then his mind, with regrets and despair following suit. Blackness and emptiness were the foundations of the new world that had been containing him.

Was this Hell? He'd wondered of what the place could be, since as far as everyone knew, Heaven could not have been associated with darkness. But it was not the darkness that was the most tormenting; it was the notion of being left in it.

What would his friends do after his death? What would become of the Den and the people he'd gotten to know in the past two years...? Would they grieve his death? Who would be elected as the new leader to fill in the vacancy he'd left?

Before Ray could muse any longer, a faint, prickling feeling of needles being injected into his body forced his heavy eyelids to slowly open. Nothing came to his sight, though.

"Subject Five has shown signs of consciousness," said a muffled voice. It seemed distant to his ears, as if he was hearing the voice from a faraway end of a field.

"Increasing dosage," said another voice.

Ray felt another sting on his spine, then a cold liquid was injected through the newly inserted needle. Dim lights started to fill his distorted vision. Looming images of a foreign room, people in white coats and strange machines and equipments came to his sight as though through a bluish layer.

"Synchronization rate has exceeded 80%," said a man to his left. He was wearing a lab suit and had a short hair. One of his hand was moving nimbly on a pad, Ray noticed. "Entering the second stage in thirty seconds."

Ray blinked slowly. He could grasp his surroundings better now. The layer he'd thought had been put between the white coated people and himself was none other than blue liquid where he was being bathed in. As seconds passed by, he began to feel its coldness wrapping his skin, though he was unable to move. An oxygen mask allowed him to breathe normally in the strange water. Barely able to think, it took a minute for Ray to realize that he was semi-floating inside of a pod that was almost twice the size of his body.

Where was he?

Who were these people?

Ray struggled to remember the details after he had been brought in by his comrades into the helicopter. He remembered how Alisa and his friends had been clutching to his hands and how desperate the medics had been to stop his bleeding—only to find that the wound had been infected by a poison unknown to them. But that was it. After that, he could remember nothing. His memory began to blur it started to hurt his head.

"His brainwaves are getting more rapid," said the first man whose voice he'd heard upon waking up minutes ago. "He's leaping into the third stage!"

"Get the old bias factor!" yelled out another white-coated man. "Use it to stabilize him!"

Another sting of needle pierced through his skin, right on his collarbone. A strangled sound escaped his lips as he snarled. Pain wheezed through his body, forcing him to shut down any thoughts to fight down the bitter feeling.

Images flickered in his mind. Faces, objects, places; everything he'd seen in his life was being replayed in his mind's eyes like an old movie being replayed in fast forward. His thoughts became more and more confusing as memories, feelings and voices were erupting uncontrollably.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to make it stop. But the pain only escalated, as if ignoring his silent plea.

His head throbbed as if it was about to explode, his sight sharpening, his ears receiving strange sounds in a high pitch it almost felt unbearable for his brain to contain.

His hands and legs were thrashing wildly outside of his will. He ripped and detached the hoses and large needles half-buried in his body in a blind rage. If this could end the pain he was in, then he had to remove every needle attached to his body. Fast.

He heard shouts and screams of alert from the people around him. He didn't stop. He moved violently in the pod as he struggled to break free from the container. His skin felt as though it was burning. It was as if the liquid had turned into acid.

"The bias factor was rejected!" Ray heard another voice shouting to his colleagues. "What are we gonna do?"

"Anything!" beamed a feminine voice in response. "Sedatives!"

More stings. There was a machine on the top of the container with many needles that directly aimed at his bare back and shoulders. The blue liquid quickly turned reddish as Ray fought the machine's attempt to inject him.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His whole body felt as if it was being sliced and cut. Every cell in his body was screaming in agony.

This had to stop. He had to stop the excruciating torture.

One by one, he pulled out every foreign object attached on him. Once all the needles had been put off, he punched the glass of the pod, hard. It didn't budge at first. The burning pain coming from the liquid forced him to move and try again, and thankfully, it cracked this time. At the third attempt, the thick glass broke and shattered.

The force from the liquid flowing out of the pod pushed him forward. He removed the oxygen mask and made another punch on the glass. The hole got bigger, enough for him to throw himself out.

Ray landed heavily on the cold, now wet, metallic floor, coughing and panting.

"Neutralize him!" shrieked a panicking woman.

"Don't kill him! Use a stun gun!"


He bent to one knee as his hands moved abruptly to cover his ears in a desperate attempt to block high-pitched sounds and strange voices torturing him. He gritted his teeth, his thoughts in disarray.

But then he sensed a movement—an attack directed at him. Moving purely on instinct, Ray leapt to his right. His shoulder bumped on a large machine as the impact of his movement jostled him several feet away.

The man who had aimed at him shouted, "He's fast!"

Another shot, and he rolled to his left to evade it. He thought of nothing; his body purely moved on the sole instinct of not wanting to get hurt. He tried to get up and looked at his adversaries, only to realize that his sight had strangely gotten sharper and more vivid.

In one blink of an eye, the images of terrified faces around the room were burnt into his mind. Seven armed guards stood facing him, their movements stiff, showing a sign of reluctance and fear. Everything seemed to move in a slow motion in Ray's senses: two of the black clothed guards aimed at him, air rushed out from their nostrils as they exhaled, the faint sound of their muscles flexing, and bang.

He threw himself forward to the nearest guard, evading two bullets as he dashed, and grabbed the man by the neck with one hand. He squeezed it without thinking and blood splashed, the dead weight of the guard's lifeless body fell onto the stained floor with a heavy thump.



His mouth opened up a bit upon the fresh scent, letting a drip entering it. It tasted...sweet.

Strange. Was that really blood his mind just described as sweet in taste? Had it been that delicious all along—without him knowing?

And... Delicious...?

What was he thinking?

There was something wrong with his mind. He staggered a few steps back as he clutched onto his head. Around him was chaos. People were screaming, shouting for help; White coats were barking orders, more guards were entering the room.

He heard the sound of running feet. The white coats were fleeing the room. He paid no attention to his surroundings, though; his gaze fixed on his blood-stained hand.

Laughter bubbled up inside his stomach, rising up to his chest and throat, brushing off the pain that had been torturing him a moment ago. Hysteria. What an odd satisfaction.

This was a foreign ecstasy he could truly feel. How strange...this feeling was.

He couldn't contain it anymore his lips formed a smile.

"Surround him!" barked an officer. An alarm had begun resounding, its loudness piercing Ray's acute hearing. "Avoid his heart and head!"

A round of bullets came at him. But they were too slow; He'd seen their hands stopping in their tracks to pause in the air and shoot.

Moving in a high speed, he launched himself in a jump and landed on a high table. He spun around, too quickly for his enemies to aim and shoot, then jumped at one of the guards, burying his hand into his chest with such force it emerged from the back of the man. Warm blood sluiced down his arm; then, grasping hold of another guard who was still in shock nearby, he launched him into the path of the third man. He had the advantage of surprise; impaling one with his bare hand; ripping the neck of a second; and shoving the two writhing, dying men onto their comrades.

Everything had happened in mere seconds. Then more guards were coming.

None, though, could match his speed and precision. In what seemed to be a short two minutes the room had been filled with corpses in awkward angles and pools of blood. Ray stood idly at the center—his body wet with the rich red liquid of life— and he, once again, forced his brain into gear. He was too distracted to think of anything when a strange feeling of drowsiness began to grow inside of him.

Had they fired a sleeping gas?

Falling on his knees, he let his palms support his weight as his breathing became heavier.

He could hear panicked murmurs from outside of the room, people barking orders and scientists making quick calculations of the state he was in. Then he fell to the ground, his eyes closing, his senses giving in to the gas' effect. Darkness embraced him once again.

A/N : This Re-Chapter is closely related to the next chapter as the next (normal) chapter will be a continuation of this one.