"You have awoken."

"Who are you?"

"How do you feel?"

"Answer me."

"I need to know your condition."

"Are you a god?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I died. I am dead. I'm sure, I remember the blade sticking out from between my ribs. I'm dead. This is the afterlife. I see you here so you must be a god."

"Your eyes are functional, then. How are your legs? Your arms? Let me see them."

"You don't deny it. Is this Lodhlon? Am I- ah!"

"Pain receptors still functional. Curious."

"What did you do that for! Can't you see my arm is broken? The bone came jutting out, right through, just here when-...Where is it? What did you do to my arm? Is this my arm?"

"It is now."

"Yes, but-... Gamurta-... This is not my arm."

"It is."

"Is not. I didn't have a tattoo."

"It took us a while to find one that more or less matches your other arm. We did not regard aesthetics."

"Aesthetics."

"The decoration will not impede its function."

"I am going to hit you, god or not."

"Save the hostility for the battlefield. You are expected to report to your commander at dawn. You have been... absent for twenty-two days. Can you stand?"

"Absent."

"Yes, absent. Not present. Off duty. On leave."

"Because I was dead!"

"A condition I remedied as you-"

"I *die**d!* Nothing can remedy death!"

"Can you stand?"

"I can't! I can't stand this! 'Murta! What the hell did you do to me, puguan?"

"Try to stand up. Mind your footing. The lower left leg may require some adjustments. I could replace it altogether if the joints are too stiff. The number of casualties at the Battle for Brey left me spoilt for choice. Come on, stand."

"This is messed up. You're messed up. I'll get the- srano!"

"I said, mind your footing."

"These are not my legs! What is this! Where are my legs!"

"Amputated and discarded in favour of this pair. You should be able to run faster and jump further with them."

"Amputated?! You took me apart and replaced my limbs like I'm some sort of doll?"

"I enhanced your physical functions. It will enable you to perform better in battle and thus to live longer, soldier."

"You're bat shit crazy! Mental, you know that? You're a-, you're a bloody necromancer, is what you are!"

"Apt choice of words. I will tick the 'wit' box on your checklist of operational bodily functions."

"Suktar'ran! You just-, I got-, how... You necromanced me back to life! With all these...enhancements! You just find a pile of corpses, bring them back to this, this, what is it? A field hospital tent? And then you just dismantle them, pasting shit onto their bodies as you see fit! That's Dark Magic shit, you know that! That's evil shit!"

"Cess'ran. Listen-"

"No, you listen! You can't just go and bring the dead back to life! What is this, this half existence you forced onto me? I feel like I'm choking but I haven't drawn a single breath since I got round! Do I still have lungs? And I'm freezing cold! Does my heart even beat anymore? Do I still have a heart?"

"Did you ever have a heart in the first place?"

"What?"

"Did you ever have a heart, soldier? You, who rides into battle, mercilessly slaughtering those you were commanded to kill? Did you ever for a moment think of your enemies as people? Not as targets, or obstacles, or as evil?"

"They are evil. They killed as many of our men as we did theirs."

"They kill, so they are evil. If death is the devil, it makes me a saint for bringing the dead back to life. The lives you took as a soldier in service of an army that wears the cape of justice like a priest's habit."

"A life for a life."

"And here you frown upon me for restoring life while you preach bloody vengeance."

"It's-...That was-... They were wrong."

"Who are you to draw the line between right and wrong? I brought you back same as I would them."

"Y-you would restore the lives of the enemy?"

"In death, we are all equal, soldier. Think on that next time you sink your blade into the flesh of your fellow men."