Mansoor's heart was a drumbeat of fear and confusion as he struggled to comprehend his impossible situation. The last thing he remembered was the cold grip of death, and now, he was thrust back into life on a day he had already lived—December 6th, 2016. He was back in his old life as a small businessman, in a world that was blissfully unaware of its future.

As the initial shock subsided, a strategic thought flickered in his mind. His memories of the future were a treasure trove, a chance to right past wrongs, to succeed where he had once failed. But how could he leverage this knowledge to his advantage?

Before he could delve deeper into his plans, a mechanical voice shattered the silence, startling him. A window panel materialized before his eyes, reminiscent of a video game interface, labeled 'Deadmen System.' His pulse quickened as he realized this was no ordinary second chance. This was something more—something extraordinary.

With a cautious curiosity, Mansoor explored the panel, his eyes widening at the sight of a balance: 100,000 deadmen. The term was unfamiliar, yet it promised a power he had never imagined. Ensuring he was alone in the small, sparsely furnished room, he tentatively selected to summon a single deadman, half-expecting nothing to happen.

To his astonishment, the air before him rippled and a figure materialized, coalescing from the ether into solid form. The deadman stood there, an ethereal presence that bowed its head in deference, addressing Mansoor as its master. The surrealism of the moment was overwhelming, but it also ignited a spark of exhilaration within him.

Mansoor gazed at his summoned deadman, a myriad of questions burning on his lips. What was this system? How did it work? And most importantly, how could it change his fate? One thing was clear: with the Deadmen System at his command, Mansoor's life was no longer bound by the rules of the ordinary. A new path lay ahead, one paved with the enigmatic promise of the deadmen, and it was his to explore.

Mansoor's mind raced with the possibilities that lay before him. The Deadmen System had granted him an incredible opportunity, one that could potentially lead to the accumulation of vast wealth. If each deadman could integrate seamlessly into society, they could work, earn, and contribute to his grand vision. But how to orchestrate such a feat?

As he pondered the logistics of deploying his spectral workforce, the system, attuned to his thoughts, presented him with an answer. Each deadman, it declared, was indistinguishable from a living person, requiring food, drink, and air to sustain their presence in this world. Moreover, they were equipped with a CNIC card—a Pakistani national identity card—complete with a unique identity, a mobile phone with a SIM card, and the equivalent of 150 US dollars (1 USD = 104.72 pkr). The system had thought of everything.

The revelation sparked a myriad of strategies in Mansoor's entrepreneurial mind. These deadmen could be employed in various sectors, from manual labor to skilled professions, depending on the talents he chose to summon. They could blend into the populace, their origins none the wiser to the world around them. The profits from their labor could be the cornerstone upon which he would build his empire.

But it wasn't just wealth Mansoor sought; it was power. His ultimate dream was to ascend to the highest office in Pakistan—to become the Prime Minister. With the Deadmen System, that dream seemed within reach. He could create a network of influence, a legion of loyal supporters who could sway public opinion and maneuver the chess pieces of political intrigue.

Lost in his reverie of power and prestige, Mansoor was abruptly reminded of his mortality as his stomach groaned with hunger. He had been so consumed by the implications of the Deadmen System that he had neglected the most basic human need.

With a rueful smile, he acknowledged the irony. Here he was, master of an otherworldly power, yet bound by the earthly demands of the flesh. It was a humbling moment, one that grounded his soaring ambitions in the reality of his human condition.

Mansoor rose from the bed, his resolve firming with each step. He would need to attend to his own needs before setting his grand plan into motion. After all, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and for Mansoor Ahmad, that first step was to sate the hunger that gnawed at his belly. Only then could he fully embrace the path to power that lay ahead.