The first sound was small.So small it almost didn’t belong in a world that had known nothing but storms, war, and silence. Thump.Adrian didn’t move. He couldn’t. His back was pressed against the cold glass of the Resurrection Tank, one hand still braced weakly against its surface, blood smeared where his strength had long since begun to fail.For a moment, he thought he imagined it. A phantom echo.A cruel trick of exhaustion. Then Thump, Stronger, Slower, Unmistakably real.Adrian’s breath hitched. No. Not real, Not yet. Not after everything. But the sound came again. Thump. Thump. A heartbeat, Not mechanical, Not simulated but Alive.The Return of Flesh Inside the tank, the body moved. Not violently. Not like before. But with something quieter.Intentional.The chest rose—slowly, unevenly at first—then deeper, fuller, as though something ancient and powerful was relearning the act of breathing.The fluid that once suspended the vessel began to drain, spiraling downward as if pulle
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