Time seemed to freeze. Ethan stood motionless, staring at the red liquid on his hands, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His heart pounded, disbelief and terror flooding his mind.

Luke stumbled backward, clutching his neck, eyes wide with shock. “Ethan! What the hell is going on?” he screamed. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the floor. His body swayed, then collapsed helplessly to the ground.

“This isn’t possible... How can it be blood?” Ethan muttered, staring at his blood-soaked hands. His eyes were wide with shock and fear. No, this wasn’t right—Luke was seventeen; he was supposed to be a monster, not human.

The classroom erupted into chaos. Students screamed and scrambled backward in terror. Some started crying, others pointed trembling fingers at Ethan, shouting hysterically, “He’s lost it! Ethan just killed someone!”

“Calm down!” Ethan’s voice was hoarse with fear and desperation. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! Luke’s seventeen—he should be a monster!”

A strange silence fell over the classroom, the sound of breathing even seemed to vanish. Ethan scanned the faces of his classmates, realizing something was wrong. Everyone was staring at him, but their eyes held... something different. An unsettling judgment.

Suddenly, a person was thrown at Ethan’s feet. He looked down and saw Samuel, his face covered in blood. Before Ethan could react, Samuel sprang up, eyes filled with fury and desperation, and threw a punch straight at Ethan’s face.

“Don’t drag me into your madness!” Samuel roared, his voice raw with pain. “I’ve got a sister to take care of! What the hell are you doing?!”

Before Ethan could respond, he saw a shadow darting toward Samuel from behind, a wooden stick raised high in the air. Before Ethan could shout a warning, the stick came crashing down on the back of Samuel’s head. A heavy, dull thud echoed through the classroom. Samuel’s skull split open instantly, and blood trickled down his neck. His eyes lost their light in a flash, and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, his blood quickly staining the floor.

Ethan stared in shock at Samuel’s lifeless body at his feet. He raised his head in disbelief. Henry stood behind Samuel, gripping the bloody stick. His expression was cold, devoid of any compassion, and he casually tossed the stick aside.

“Samuel tried to run,” Henry said coldly. “I brought him back.”

A chill ran through Ethan’s body. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His once-friendly classmates were now surrounding him, their faces stripped of any warmth or familiarity. A deadly, predatory atmosphere hung in the air, suffocating him.

“You... you’re the monsters! All of you!” Ethan screamed, pointing at their once-familiar faces. “But why? You’re not even sixteen yet...”

“Ethan, you’re mistaken,” Henry’s voice was calm, cold. “The keepers choose when to feast on the Meatfolk, just like humans decide how they like their steak. Some prefer it rare, others well done.” Henry said with a cruel grin. “Now, the question is, how do we divide up the meat?”

As he spoke, their skin began to ripple. Some of his classmates’ eyes turned completely black, like bottomless pits. Others’ mouths twisted into faint, jagged grins, revealing rows of sharp, serrated teeth. The joints in their fingers cracked ominously, as if preparing for a lethal attack.

“we’re going to savor every bite,” Henry said, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with hunger. They closed in on Ethan slowly, their steps steady and deliberate, like predators cornering their prey. Their gazes were filled with raw, unmasked greed and hunger.

Ethan’s body trembled uncontrollably. Even though he had the ability to reset upon death, the pain of dying was still too much to bear. He tightened his grip on the knife in his hand but felt his strength rapidly fading. He gritted his teeth, cold air filling his chest, his voice barely a whisper, “You won’t get away with this...”

“I’ll remember this,” Ethan rasped, his voice filled with weak anger and defiance. “You won’t win... I’ll make you pay...” His words were filled with a sense of finality, a vow.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Suddenly, he felt a cold hand clamp around his throat, squeezing so hard it felt like his neck might snap. The suffocation hit instantly, and his body thrashed, but to no avail. His vision blurred as the lack of oxygen made his eyes bloodshot, his consciousness slipping away.

“Shhh,” Henry’s voice was mocking, like a predator toying with its prey. “We don’t want to attract any other monsters, do we?” His grip tightened, and Ethan could feel his life draining away. His awareness scattered like sand slipping through his fingers. The sounds around him grew distant, faint.

In an instant, a terrifying thought flashed through Ethan’s mind—what if this time the reset failed? What if Death Reset wasn’t guaranteed every time?

For a moment, his heart seemed to stop. What if he really died this time? The chilling realization froze him with fear. The Death Reset had never failed before, but what if it did now?

No... He couldn’t die here. Ethan fought with everything he had left, his hands clawing at Henry’s arm, trying desperately to break free. But Henry’s icy grip only tightened.

“Le...t... go,” Ethan wheezed, his voice barely audible. The air was running out. His vision grew darker, his limbs heavier, until they refused to obey him. His muscles stiffened from the lack of oxygen, and his struggling became weaker and weaker.

Henry’s fingers pressed harder, as if savoring Ethan’s final moments of helplessness. Ethan’s body convulsed, his legs kicked out, but it didn’t change anything. His classmates just watched, eyes filled with fanaticism.

If the reset failed this time... maybe death wasn’t so bad. Most of the town’s people were monsters, and his fight felt pointless... This battle was too hard to win. Surrender seemed like the only relief.

Finally, Ethan’s body went limp. He could vaguely hear the sounds of chewing and low murmurs. The monsters had begun feasting on him and Samuel. The pain slowly faded, replaced by a heavy, drowsy silence.

Then, suddenly, the chewing stopped. The classroom fell eerily silent, save for Luke’s ragged breathing.

The monsters’ eyes shifted away from Ethan’s broken body and turned toward Luke, who lay motionless on the floor. A few of the monster classmates crouched down, their brows furrowed in confusion, studying Luke’s body closely.

“Strange, he smells... off,” one monster muttered, sniffing the air before standing up, losing interest.

Henry shrugged, unconcerned. “He won’t live long anyway. Forget him.”

The others stood up, having no interest in eating Luke. Without hesitation, they left, paying him no more attention. The classroom was once again filled with the sound of chewing. Luke’s body lay there, discarded like a useless object.

“Ethan! Are you planning to sleep through my entire class?” Mr. Foster’s stern voice rang in Ethan’s ears, pulling him abruptly back to reality.

Ethan’s eyes snapped open, the bright classroom lights momentarily disorienting him. Around him, the sound of students scribbling their assignments filled the room, and Mr. Foster’s chalk scratched the blackboard. Everything looked familiar, yet his heart was still pounding as if he was still teetering on the edge of death.

“Ethan, can you tell me where we left off?” Mr. Foster’s cold voice cut through the fog in his brain.

Ethan jolted upright, trying to look more alert, but his mind was still clouded in darkness, swirling with confusion. He glanced down at his book, scrambling to find his place.

“Uh... we’re on...” he stammered, his mind blank. Memories of the class material mixed with the echoes of his recent reset, making it impossible to focus.

Mr. Foster frowned, stepping closer. “I expect you to pay attention, Ethan. We’re discussing Mark Twain.”

Ethan lowered his head, breathing a sigh of relief. His face flushed with embarrassment, but beneath it was a deeper, crushing sense of exhaustion. Each reset was taking its toll on him, eroding his ability to think clearly.

He forced himself to calm down, scanning the room to reassure himself that he was truly back in the classroom. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the students were drowsily listening to Mr. Foster’s lecture. As the familiar lesson continued, Ethan realized the current time—it was the morning of April 30th. He kept his head down, pretending to focus, but inside, his anxiety was gnawing at him.

His hand instinctively went to his throat, as if Henry’s fingers were still wrapped around it. The suffocating sensation refused to leave him, making it hard to tell if what he had just experienced was a nightmare or reality.

Every reset was wearing him down. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, but the pain lingered, too vivid to ignore. Death’s shadow was always near, and the exhaustion of resetting was slowly crushing him. Each cycle drained more of his spirit, leaving him numb and weakened.

Maybe the resets weren’t a gift, but an endless curse.

This time, he’d survived... but how many more times could he get lucky? He survived the last death, but how many more would he have to endure? Ethan replayed the moment in his mind, the sheer terror of Henry’s grip crushing his throat, the classroom fading away as life drained from his body. It had saved him once again, this strange, unreliable gift of the Death Reset. But it was getting harder each time, and deep down, he knew he couldn’t rely on it forever.

Ethan recalled the earlier test—there were only three humans left in the class, including himself: Luke McDonald and Samuel Grey. He smirked bitterly at the thought. Out of a class of dozens, only three of them were real humans. The sheer absurdity of it made him want to laugh, but all he felt was a hollow, overwhelming sense of despair.