Two days later, Chris's eyes slowly opened. His vision was hazy at the edges, flashing multiple colors before gradually returning to normal.
Loud noises echoed inside his brain. He pressed a hand against his head, groaning softly.
*I'm... alive?*
He raised his left arm into the air and studied it.
"Holy s**t! My hand is back!" His eyes widened in shock as he pushed himself up to sit.
He observed the room he had slept in. His robe was gone; only a thin bedsheet covered him. All his wounds and cuts had completely vanished. The room looked like a modern bedroom—painted white and neatly arranged. A bright light bulb shone overhead, and a chair and table sat at the center with food and water placed on it.
*What is going on here? I remember being at death's door after that mumu dragon (stu
