A Chronometric Defect

"GAAASP!"

"Oh, he's still with us! Get the anaesthetic..."

My eyes scan around.

The ceiling is gray. The walls are gray. This isn't a hospital.

Where am I?

"Hold him, don't let him move. I'll administer another injection on site B. This'll be a big one."

I look at my right arm. My wrist is chained to the wall with a thick chain. Each link, maybe a centimeter thick. What kind of monster do they think I am? I—

"Alright, he's going to crash. Start th___x____m_______r___du__."

Everything fades to black. Wasn't I dead? That's how it should be. But if I'm not, then I refuse. I refuse to go back there. I refuse to return to being dead. My life isn't over.

"... You don't have a choice. ..."

Who is that?

"... I said, you don't have a choice. ..."

Why don't I have a choice?

"... Your chronometer is defective. You always die early. ..."

I didn't think my philosophy was literal.

"... Yet somehow, you knew. ..."

I did know.

"... That's why you have to die. So, fight bravely, young warrior. Since even if it's all for naught. At least, you can live again. ..."

Warr... ior?