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墨書 Inktalez
The group continued to struggle through the darkness, the walls of the cave seeming to close in around them, making the space increasingly narrow. The damp slime on the stone walls emitted a foul odor, and the air grew thinner, as if the entire cave was gradually constricting, trapping them in this abyss-like gloom. The surrounding darkness was no longer just a silent presence; it was filled with an eerie sense of life, an invisible pressure lurking like a malevolent spirit in the shadows, seemingly mocking their every step.
Cold droplets of water dripped from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a muffled thud, as if some hidden creature was watching them from the dark. Jonas swept his flashlight ahead, its weak beam appearing even more helpless in this endless darkness. He felt each step becoming heavier, his alertness rising continuously; this cave seemed to harbor unpredictable depths, pulling them into an unknown vortex.
Isabella walked in the middle of the group, her back already soaked through, cold sweat trickling down her neck. She could feel an invisible pressure surging from the darkness, making her breath quicken and her heart race. The ambition she once held for the Light Activation Project had now transformed into an inescapable fear. This was not how it was supposed to be; the Light Activation Project was meant to be a great breakthrough, a miracle of science and technology. Yet now, this endeavor felt like a curse dragging them step by step into an irretrievable hell.
"How could this happen..." A faint whisper echoed deep within her, tinged with uncontrollable anxiety. This was not the future she had envisioned; she had once firmly believed that science and reason could answer all unknowns, but now this darkness left her feeling utterly helpless. Beside her, Jonas wore a grim expression; Raymond and the mercenaries looked anxious, and even Mocus's previously fervent excitement was gradually consumed by the oppressive atmosphere.
The air in the cave stirred restlessly, carrying a chill that seemed to flow invisibly past them, like an intangible specter whispering in their ears. That laughter—silent yet chilling—seemed to wait for them to walk step by step toward their doom.
"Isabella, are you okay?" Jonas asked quietly, laced with underlying concern.
She nodded, trying hard to mask her fear as she replied softly, "I... I'm fine." But the turmoil within had already torn apart her confidence; the immense pressure of the Light Activation Project and the strangeness of the cave made it impossible for her to remain calm. She kept telling herself to focus on their mission, but the unknown lurking in the darkness made it impossible to ignore her inner dread. How had the Light Activation Project turned into this? It felt like an unforeseen nightmare.
In the darkness ahead, she could vaguely make out what seemed to be a massive object looming—a silhouette that carried an oppressive aura. As they drew closer, that enormous shadow gradually became clearer. Jonas raised his flashlight; its weak light pierced through the thick darkness just enough for everyone to hold their breath when it illuminated what lay before them.
It was a colossal altar—ancient and dilapidated yet still exuding some sinister power. In its center stood a flat stone table covered with strange symbols that resembled some long-lost mysterious language. The symbols intertwined chaotically, giving off an eerie sense of movement as if they were alive, constantly writhing across the surface of the stone table. The table's surface was uneven, revealing many dried stains that hinted at countless sacrificial rituals having taken place.
On either side of the stone table were deep drainage channels extending down to the base of the altar. Although these channels resembled waterways at first glance, it was clear to everyone that they were not designed for guiding ordinary water—their bizarre design and sloping angles combined with dark red stains revealed their true purpose. They seemed intended to channel blood flowing from the stone table into the depths of the altar.
Raymond's flashlight beam lingered on one of these drainage channels as he whispered, "This isn't a waterway at all... look at these stains." He gently touched one of the dried marks with his finger; its stickiness remained as if blood had only recently flowed through here.
Isabella's eyes reflected undeniable shock; cold sweat had long since soaked through her clothing. She stared wide-eyed at everything before her, trying to rationalize what she saw but unable to deny that this was indeed a site filled with sinister sacrificial rites.
"What exactly happened here..." she murmured softly, a hint of unease flickering in her eyes. The purpose of this altar was far beyond her imagination.
Jonas calmly surveyed the surroundings, his fingers instinctively tightening around the gun in his hand. He didn't want to admit it, but the dangerous thrill in his heart was growing stronger. This altar was the core of the cave, and they were inching closer to some indescribable truth.
He glanced at the drainage channels, imagining blood pouring down from the stone table, flowing slowly along the grooves into some unknown depths below. The ancient symbols seemed to whisper, summoning a long-dormant dark power.
Mocus's flashlight weakly swept over the ancient inscriptions beside the stone table, his eyes filled with fervor as his lips trembled slightly, softly reciting a series of obscure phrases. His voice echoed in the vast cave, deep and hoarse, as if he were conversing with some ancient entity.
"N'gha... throd... fhtagn..." Mocus's voice grew increasingly frenzied, his pace quickening over time, the tone becoming eerily unsettling, tinged with an uncontrollable madness. The beam of light from his flashlight flickered unsteadily in his trembling hand, casting shadows on the stone table as if an ancient ritual were being reenacted.
The others stood behind him, their expressions filled with uncertainty, unable to comprehend what he was uttering. Yet such behavior made everyone in the group uneasy. Jonas tightened his grip on the gun, sensing that something was amiss. Each syllable, each whispered word seemed to awaken a long-sealed presence; the air in the darkness began to shift subtly, as if the entire cave were responding to Mocus's call.
Raymond looked at Jonas, anxiety etched on his face as he lowered his voice and asked, "What on earth is he chanting?"
Isabella's face turned pale as a deep unease began to swell within her. Although she didn't understand what Mocus was whispering, she knew that such sounds should not be uttered by humans. Everything about this altar seemed more than just a simple relic; with Mocus's words, an undeniable response echoed from deep within the cave—a whisper from the abyss, a force hidden in darkness awakening.
"Mocus, stop!" Jonas's voice rang out in the cave, laced with suppressed anger and anxiety. But Mocus appeared completely oblivious, lost in his own murmurs. His fingers gently traced over the runes on the stone table as if touching some sacred artifact; his expression gradually morphed into one of madness, like a devotee lost in ancient legends.
The atmosphere in the cave grew increasingly oppressive; one could faintly sense that some presence was stirring from below. The air felt thick with an intense pressure, as if unseen eyes were watching them from every corner of the cave. The darkness began to transform from mere absence of light into a living will—a terrifying power awakening.
Isabella clenched her fists, her heart racing as she trembled and asked, "Are we... are we disturbing something?"
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