One night, I had a strange dream.
It started out the way regular dreams do; with the usual morning activities, the traffic, school, and the mundane affairs of any normal day.
Laughter echoed in the vast expanse of the streets. Murmurs pervaded the four walls of the rooms people occupied. Conversations proceeded from the lips of everyone coexisting in this brilliant tapestry of life.
And then, all of a sudden… there was silence.
Like an all-consuming void that swallows the very essence of life, the world slowly changed.
Until it became unrecognizable from the way it once was.
Now, screams echoed in the deserted streets. Gasps became accompanied by the bated breaths of those who dwelled within their four walls.
Even the lips that once flapped around to utter words found themselves rigid, responding to the grim reality that now played out in front of everyone.
… The Apocalypse!
No one dared step foot outside… not unless they desired to be devoured by the creatures; demons that once only existed in the dark recesses of imagination.
However, without stepping into the outside world, how could most manage to live?
No food. No water. No resources.
Death slowly devolved from being an option to the inevitable end for most people in this new world. A world where humans were eaten like livestock, and the laws we all believed in ceased to function.
Nothing mattered, but death and chaos.
But… despite all of this despair, a small ray of hope reared its head in the form of the Elect; champions of humanity who possessed abilities that dwelled in the realm of the supernatural.
In a world where entities such as Demons existed, surely it wasn't too absurd to see humans who rose up to fight with god-like powers. Those who became 'Elect' ruled the world, and those who could not had no choice but to follow their lead.
In a way, the world became much different, its complex and obsolete laws now replaced by a new, simpler one: Survival of the Fittest!
And who was I in this dream? Where was I throughout all of this madness? Whose identity did I possess amidst this inexplicable state of despondency?
"… Spare change, spare change ma'am?"
I was nothing but a poor beggar who relied on the mercy of strangers in this merciless reality that I found myself in.
As anyone would expect, I hardly got any reward for my troubles.
People hardly spared me a glance, not to talk of the bare minimum required to survive.
But who could blame them?
I, a mere Survivor, was seeking compassion from those who dwelled in an unforgiving world. I begged Elects and fellow Survivors alike, just so I could keep living my miserable life.
A few certainly assisted me, but most people downright ignored my plight.
It made me angry.
I knew I shouldn't be angry at the people who completely ignored a starving old man like myself.
I knew it was foolish to blame others for my weakness.
I knew it was hypocritical of me to feel entitled to the resources that others had to work so hard, even going as far as risking their lives, for.
Yet… YET I FOUND MYSELF ENRAGED!
"What are you going to do about it?" As the question echoed in my head, my skinny old flesh trembled in the cold, and I shivered at the thought.
My frail body couldn't respond to the burning flames of rage in my heart, and my tired eyes only desired to be shut. And so, despite all the pain, rage, frustration, envy, and overwhelming misery I felt … I could do nothing but wrap myself in a tattered thin sheet of dirty fabric as I went to sleep.
I died that night, nothing more than a miserable old man… but the question still played over and over in my head.
What are you going to do…
**********
"… About it?"
John woke up with a murmur as he rose from his bed, his black hair all ruffled thanks to the deep sleep he just had.
As a random 19 year old college student, just waking to see his regular studio apartment, something about all of this seemed unrecognizable to him.
"W-what… was that dream?" He asked himself in a clearly distressed tone.
No, could he really call that a dream? It all felt so vivid… so real! It felt like he had just lived nearly 50 years of his life in a single night.
"T-that… was…" John looked at his two trembling hands.
They appeared so virile and strong. Yet, they also had this soft texture to them… almost like a newborn baby's.
"Ahh…" He remembered his life clearer now.
John was the only child of a fairly upper-class family. So while he didn't have the most luxurious life ever, his entire upbringing was dipped in comfort. He never had to really work very hard a single day of his life, and even now, as a College Student in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, he had maintained that streak.
"But why?"
After just waking up from his dream, no… that thing could only be called a nightmare… John could not help questioning everything he had known and done that led to the present.
"I have such a healthy body. I have the resources. I have the freedom. I have what most people don't…" John whispered to himself as he rose from his comfortable bed and his feet touched the cool wooden tiles on the ground.
"… Why did I never make use of them before?!"
Something about the dream kept playing over and over in his head.
He remembered the horrors that occurred. He recollected the countless pains and agonies that bled throughout his years there. He could not forget the agonizing life he led in such a ruined world.
With all of those thoughts coalescing into his head, he fell to his knees and collapsed on the floor.
But, that was just the beginning.
Arcing his two hands and pressing both palms to the ground, John slowly began to lift himself up.
"That world… that life… I don't ever want it to happen again!"
One push-up.
"I… I can't allow myself to suffer like that!"
Two push-ups.
"Whether it happens now… or in the next ten years… or whether it ever happens at all…"
Three push-ups.
"Haa.. haa…"
John could feel his arm muscles ache, begging him to just stop the pointless exercise so early in the morning. His body begged him to take a break, and his eyes slowly rolled back down in order to prompt him back to bed.
… However!!!
"NO!"
Four push-ups.
Despite the constant throbbing in his arms, legs, chest, and all over his muscles, John found himself unable to stop.
Perhaps it had something to do with the burning sensation that kept rising in his racing heart.
"… I must be prepared for it…"
Huffing and puffing, his body now drenched in sweat as he shook uncontrollably while maintaining his form, John's bulging eyes turned bloodshot. Inexplicable desperation burned within those blue pupils of his, an unnatural sight for a mere young adult.
"Huuu… haa…"
A small pool caused by his perspiration now formed underneath his trembling form, but John would not stop.
Not even when he felt like he would die.
Compared to what happened in his dream… all of this pain felt like nothing!
"The Apocalypse… it won't be like last time…"
Ten push-ups.
"This time… things will be different…"
Fifteen push-ups.
"I don't want to be that pathetic… old… man… anymore!"
Nineteen push-ups.
"I… I… I want to be strong too!"
*
*
*
[Nine months later, the Apocalypse began]