Warning for gore, body horror and language.

There is a legend, one about a spirit in the north of what is now Canada, one of a spirit who bestows powers to those in need, so long as fate smiles kindly onto them…

Crack.

This was the sound his hand had made when he'd finally tried to move it, when he finally could move it. Slowly, all his senses returned to him, only everything was black, and he couldn't feel most of his body other than his arm and part of his face. He tried opening his eyes, only to realize the sockets were opened already, and his eyes missing. It didn't surprise him, he was right in the blast zone when the explosion went off, shredding him and those around him into pieces. The screams, oh lord the screams they made. He even remembered how one of screamed his name before he fell unconscious, "MATTHEW!" the voice echoed in his mind. He tried to take a deep breath, only to realize that it was impossible, in fact he hadn't been breathing this whole time, so how was he still alive?

He tried making noise, but it was hopeless. His jaw had been ripped off as well. He was ready to accept his fate, but he didn't feel his life leave at all. Maybe he was already dead? No, no he could feel the snow melting on his arm, he could hear the faint sounds of the wind, things that assured him he was alive. He slowly began to feel more aware of his surroundings, and suddenly found himself sitting up as his vision slowly and slowly began to return. First it was shades, then shapes, then colour, then everything came together, and what Matthew saw made him wish he could scream. His legs were blown off and were a distance away from him, his right arm was besides him also severed, and his chest cavity and jaw were missing.

'Oh shit, oh fuck!' he thought as he he reached out and grabbed his arm, holding it to the stump in futile resistance. He didn't want it to be like this, he wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the safety of his bed, he wanted his little stuffed polar bear he used to hug as a child, he just wanted this to stop. As he held his arm to the stump, he suddenly began to feel the fingers in his right arm again, and stared in morbid curiosity as he saw that his arm began reattaching itself to his body slowly. His eyes merely stayed fixated as the bone slowly formed back into one, then the muscles, tendons, skin, and once it had fully healed, it was as if he'd never been injured at all.

'This...is a miracle," Matthew thought, before realizing he could most likely do this with his other limbs, 'Let's see if I can find my jaw.' As his eyes scanned the area around him, he found what he thought was his jaw, imbedded in the head of the man lying beside him. He quickly grabbed hold of the appendage and yanked it out with great force, and despite being repulsed by the thought he placed his jaw back into place, cringing as the feeling returned to his jaw. Overtime, his chest cavity had repaired itself as well, leading Matthew to believe his chest might have caved in.

"Oh...oh my god," He said, his voice a little hoarse due to the process of the regeneration, "I gotta get my legs...then get out of here." He spent quite a while dragging himself around the ruins of the area, though he was finally able to find his own legs and reattach them. After regaining control of his whole body, he slowly stood up and looked at his surroundings, sighing at the sight of blood, organs and fire everywhere before he took his first step out of the ruined building. It was a small shelter in the middle of nowhere, so it'd be a while before any authorities showed up, meaning he'd be able to disappear, go home, and act like this never happened. And if someone did see him, if his story spread, he'd deal with it as it came. As he walked away, he blinked and saw a cloaked figure in the distance, and heard a voice, a whisper that sounded like it was directly in Matthew's head.

"Whether it be in a few mere years, or a thousand in the future, people will hear and know your story of survival, reviving a legend of old…" The voice said, and Matthew merely looked ahead and moved on. He didn't care what the voice was saying, he'd be long gone before anyone showed up, and he'd never tell what happened to anyone. He looked out into a raging blizzard as he walked forward. Completely white and blank, just like his certainty about the future…

A story began circulating around after a few months. The RCMP had been sent to investigate what looked like an explosion in cabin the Yukon. there was evidence that seven men were there mining, but only six bodies were found. There was an online forum about it, which was filled with theories on the mysterious 7th man. Some thought he was probably obliterated in the blast, some thought he caused the explosion and was in hiding, and some believed he survived the blast and moved on, believing that it had something to do with an old Legend.

An old legend about a spirit in Northern Canada who grants powers to those that fate smiles upon.

Alright, kind of a crummy story, but now it's time for a little context behind this one.

I got the idea from another fanfiction where the Personifications of the Nations were immune to death, and this was originally going to be Canada during a battle after getting hit with an artillery shell putting himself back together.

Overtime, it changed, the initial incident became an accident, it changed from a war setting to Northern Canada, and it changed from Canada being a Personification to him being a Human who was given powers by an unknown spirit in what I like to call the "Super Human AU"

Anyways, bye, hope you enjoyed the story, and I'll see you next time!