Beginning to get pissed off at his unrepentant insults, I hurriedly put on the clothes while staring distastefully at him.
"Better! Now where do we start? The beginning or the present?"
"Uhmm... I think I'd like to know the present. Why am I alive?"
Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he answered nonchalantly.
"You were injected with Celestial Force. A very special kind given directly by Lord Azrael."
"Celestial what now?"
"Celestial Force! And be grateful you were given it! I was among those that voted against it. In fact, every executive board member voted against it! Even though you survived the revival process, I still think it's a waste on you."
"I'm sorry, I still fail to understand you. How did this Lord Azrael's Celestial Force bring me back?"
The old man stared at me for a moment with disbelief in his eyes.
He chuckled mockingly and muttered to himself,
"He called Lord Azrael 'this.' He's ignorant. Let's overlook this unforgivable blunder because of his ignorance. Yes... he's ignorant."
He stared fixedly at me and continued,
"Lord Azrael is among the Heavenly Venerables. He's not from this lowly world of ours. He is a true celestial being who, out of his compassionate nature, gave us a chance at safety by descending to this lowly world and gifting us a small but extremely valuable amount of his Celestial Force to strengthen and fortify us for what is to come."
"If I may ask, what exactly is to come?"
"You're not qualified to know that yet. Not until we see a bit of usefulness or potential in you."
"Okay... then what exactly does the Celestial Force do?"
"Though not easily, it allows the carrier to accomplish whatever he or she highly dedicates themselves to and trains for, with far less effort compared to those without Azrael's Force."
Nodding with a hint of confusion, I added,
"That's a good thing, right?"
Wide-eyed, he stared at me with complete bewilderment.
"You fool! You dare act so unimpressed with the gift you've been given? Azrael's Force doesn't just amplify someone's effort—it also brings the carrier back from the dead three times in their life with perfect health and body! Why do you think you're not dead?"
"WHAT?! Why would you give me something that valuable and priceless? How am I supposed to pay that back?"
"Now you get it. I was never supposed to give you Azrael's Force. We all voted against it."
"I don't understand. If you were completely against it, why was I given it?"
The old man stared at me silently for a while and shook his head regretfully as his wrinkles deepened even more.
Then he looked at me with a dirty look on his face.
"Someone very important in this world happened to believe otherwise. The board members are still not certain if this person's insistence on bringing you back was for the benefit of the world or for personal gain."
With a nasty look on his face, he eyed me from head to toe.
"Well... if you ask me, I believe it's for personal and selfish benefit. It was infuriating and, at the same time, childishly counterproductive to prioritize you over the future of our world."
With a bitter look on his face, he added with extreme disgust,
"Now, all because of you, in the coming thirty years there will be one less peak human specimen to pick from once the selection process begins. Do you know why?"
Scratching my head in confusion, I tilted it doubtfully.
"N- No."
"Because Azrael's Force has been wasted on you, STUPID!"
"Take it easy on the boy."
Turning my attention to the far left side of the room beside the door, I saw a tall, heavily muscular bronze-skinned man resting his back against the white wall with his arms folded.
Then I remembered it wasn't just the old man, Sully, and me in this room. There were other people quietly watching after I revived.
Purposefully diverting my attention around the fairly spacious white room, I noticed Sully was actually the only lab assistant present. The others I had mistaken for assistants apparently weren't.
Probably I mistook them because—regardless of the kind of outfit worn by each of them—they were all in white.
Come to think of it, my sweatpants were also white.
'What's with these guys and white outfits?'
There were about ten people aside from Sully and the foul-mouthed old man in the room. Some were standing, some were seated, all scattered around the room.
Still resting against the wall, the muscular man continued with a stern look.
"He didn't ask to be revived, Doctor Noah. This is all our Superior Returnee's fault."
Doctor Noah turned toward the man and exclaimed,
"No one asked for your opinion, Logan! You think I'm not aware that child is the main cause of our present predicament?"
"Leave him, Logan," a tall but less muscular athletic-looking man sitting idly on the floor added.
"The lucky bastard was randomly gifted what millions would kill to have. At least let him be reprimanded for it. He can't have it all good."
"Come on, Oliver. I know you're an asshole, but please—be a little lenient with him. Compared to us, you know he's just a boy."
Oliver burst into a fit of laughter, slamming his feet repeatedly against the ground as his laughter grew louder.
"The way you say things like that with a straight face never fails to amuse me."
The others in the room watched them with faint smiles on their faces. It was obvious this kind of banter between the two happened often. We all remained quiet until Oliver's laughter finally died down.
Still seated on the ground, Oliver lifted his head for the first time since I noticed him in the room. His eyes locked directly onto Logan's.
"Boy? Boyyy?? You say!" he scoffed. "I was two years younger than him when I was brought here, and I don't remember anyone calling me a boy."
"Our era was different," Logan replied calmly. "No one forced Azrael's force onto you. You were given proper orientation before joining the organization. You knew exactly what you were getting into."
Logan glanced briefly around the room before adding,
"We all knew what we were getting into."