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墨書 Inktalez
Samuel's world suddenly collapsed, shattering like fragile glass into countless sharp fragments without a sound. He felt himself being pulled into an inescapable abyss, the light around him fading rapidly, leaving only an endless darkness. This darkness not only consumed his vision but also devoured his perception, trapping him completely in an infinite void.
His consciousness seemed compressed into a narrow and enclosed space, the walls around him threatening to close in at any moment, firmly imprisoning him within. He could no longer hear any sounds; everything around him became distant and blurred, as if the real world was drifting away from him, leaving him abandoned in some unreachable corner.
In this despairing darkness, the only constant presence was an indescribable fear. This fear coiled around his mind like a cold snake, tightening its grip and making it hard for him to breathe. It was formless and invisible, yet deeply rooted in his consciousness, suffocating him. This was not mere fear; it was a bone-deep despair, a fate from which he could struggle but never escape.
He tried to control his body but found that he had completely lost command over it. The body that once belonged to him now felt like someone else's; he could only helplessly sense himself trapped within. His hands no longer responded to his commands, and his legs had grown stiff and powerless. He was imprisoned in his own flesh, a prisoner unable to awaken.
He wanted to scream, to break free from this confinement, but he could not make a sound. His throat felt as if something were tightly constricting it, leaving only silent agony echoing in his heart. This unexpressed fear plunged him deeper into despair. He felt like a drowning man desperately trying to grasp something, yet all around him was nothingness and darkness.
As time passed, Samuel gradually realized that he was trapped in this darkness, unable to return to reality. His body had sunk into a deep slumber while his consciousness remained awake, continuously sinking in this inescapable void. It was a feeling more terrifying than death—a solitude and despair from which he could not escape, as if he had been abandoned in the wilderness of time, forever unable to find his way home.
The fear intensified, like an invisible hand tightly gripping his soul, making it hard for him to breathe. Each attempt to break free felt like futile struggles that only drew him deeper into this boundless darkness. His consciousness sank further into this abyss of despair; no matter how loudly he called out, there was no response. This was not a nightmare because he could not wake up; this was not reality because he had lost all connection to it.
In this endless darkness, Samuel felt himself gradually being erased, all hope and vitality being stripped away bit by bit. Eventually, his consciousness would be consumed by this darkness, leaving behind only a cold void. This abyss, this all-consuming darkness, was the endpoint from which he could not escape.
In the dark, a strange and piercing voice whispered in Samuel's ear—cold and slippery like a serpent's tongue—filled with endless mockery and disdain. "How fragile, how useless this shell is," the voice elongated each word as if relishing the sting they brought. "The master of this body is truly weak beyond measure; you lack even the courage to face your fears and tremble in the dark like a frightened little creature."
The voice seemed to come from all directions; Samuel could not determine its source, but it burrowed deep into his mind, tearing at his sanity. He sensed that the voice did not come from outside but rather from deep within himself—as if something inside his soul were uttering these insults and mockeries.
"Coward," the voice laughed softly again, carrying an eerie delight. "You hide in the darkness, imagining you can escape while utterly failing to confront reality. Just curl up inside your shell and wait to be devoured."
Samuel's heart raced violently as fear and anger intertwined within him, boiling his blood. He felt on the verge of being crushed by this scorn and terror; yet deep inside him ignited a spark of defiance. This force propelled him out of fear's grasp, prompting him to roar loudly as his voice echoed through the boundless darkness.
"Come out and face me!" Samuel roared, his voice filled with anger and despair. "Don't hide in the darkness like a coward! If you have the guts, stand before me and see who the real coward is!"
He continued to shout, as if trying to shatter the suffocating darkness with his voice. He knew this voice was taunting him, mocking his helplessness, but he could not accept the humiliation and disdain that washed over him. His cries reverberated through the darkness, yet there was no response; that voice seemed to linger deeper within, relishing in his futile struggle.
"Come out!" Samuel shouted once more, his voice hoarse and raspy, as if he had exhausted all his strength. Still, he refused to stop. This was the only thing he could do, the only act that gave him a semblance of control.
Yet the darkness remained silent, only the whispering voice swirling around him with cold mockery, making him feel that all his resistance was utterly futile. His furious shouts gradually weakened, replaced by a profound sense of powerlessness, as if an invisible force was slowly draining him, leaving him nothing more than an empty shell.
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