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墨書 Inktalez
James felt as if his brain was being torn apart, the evil whispers piercing his mind like countless needles, mercilessly implanting the most vile and filthy knowledge in the world. Those strange incantations, curses, twisted truths, and endless darkness seemed to rise from the depths of hell, flooding into his consciousness without end. His body could no longer bear the pain, trembling violently before collapsing to the ground, rolling helplessly like prey ensnared by a venomous snake.
With each roll came deeper agony; a low groan escaped James's throat as cold sweat beaded on his forehead, as if his body were slowly being corroded by this malevolent force. His mind was filled with demonic whispers, deep and chilling voices that carried an irresistible temptation, like an invisible hand slowly grasping his soul.
"Do not... resist..." The voice grew clearer, low and haunting like a murmur from hell, filled with bizarre allure. "This knowledge... is an ancient treasure... you should feel honored..."
James's body twitched involuntarily, contorting in pain as he clutched his head, nails digging deep into his scalp as if that could alleviate the intense throbbing in his brain. Yet those voices refused to relent, like a relentless parasite taking root in his consciousness.
"This is the most secret knowledge in the world..." The low whisper carried a hint of sinister amusement, as if reveling in James's suffering. "The dirtiest, most vile truth... one that has never been grasped until now... you will become its master..."
James's vision blurred, darkness enveloping him as an endless torrent of knowledge surged into his mind. Every fragment, every symbol, every curse felt like some form of evil truth lingering deep within his awareness. He writhed in agony, feeling himself being consumed by these filthy powers.
A hoarse cry erupted from his throat as he tried to shout to stop it all; however, those voices only grew louder and stronger. "Do not resist, James," the voice whispered seductively, filled with temptation and threat. "These are everything you desire—power, wisdom, immortality... This is an ancient treasure that only a few can wield, and you will be one of them."
James's body shook violently; his eyes were bloodshot from pain as he let out a tortured howl. His consciousness was drowned by this evil knowledge; once-clear rationality had long since vanished. The whispers in his mind grew clearer, gradually consuming all his thoughts until he could no longer distinguish himself from that wicked voice.
James struggled painfully within himself, but each attempt to resist only brought more pain, as if this knowledge thrived on his defiance with a vengeful delight. His soul felt as though it was being torn apart, layers revealing the deepest desires and yearnings within him; that dark power gripped him tightly, gradually eroding his will.
"This is what you've always craved for, isn't it?" The voice whispered with a satisfied smile. "Power, truth, infinite knowledge... You are already part of this darkness, James; your fate has long been sealed."
James's consciousness began to blur; he felt as if he were peeling away from his body, his soul floating in an intangible darkness. He could not tell whether he was still awake or if this had become an unending nightmare. His muscles convulsed uncontrollably; it felt as though invisible ropes bound him while relentless pain tore at his limbs, agony coursing through every nerve.
He gasped for breath while struggling on the ground, desperately clawing at the air in an attempt to escape this evil force. His fingertips grazed the cold floor; nails broke under the strain of friction as blood seeped out. Yet the pain did nothing to awaken him. James's breathing became rapid and erratic; his heart pounded like war drums against his chest, filled with fear and despair. He knew he had to escape this place and break free from the book's grip, but with each step forward he took, the evil force pushed him back.
"No... no way... I have to... escape!" he screamed in his heart, but the sound was suppressed deep in his throat, unable to escape.
The red book lay open on the table, as if it had a life of its own, dark red light bursting from its pages like an invisible energy flowing through the air, slowly spreading and engulfing James's world. The light grew stronger, carrying an eerie sense of oppression that filled the entire room. Every time James tried to escape, the dark red energy acted like an invisible net, pulling him back into the darkness, trapping him.
James's vision blurred more and more; he felt as if he were covered by a dark red filter, everything tinged with that sinister hue. Everything in the room—the walls, the floor, the desk, even his own hands—began to be consumed by this red force, becoming twisted and grotesque. James opened his eyes wide but could only see this crimson world, as if his reality had been completely altered, thrust into a dimension he could not comprehend.
"This isn't reality..." he whispered helplessly, yet could not deny that everything before him was happening for real.
Whenever he attempted to move his body, the dark red energy tightened its grip on him, as if some presence from within the book were toying with him using an invisible force. James felt himself being gradually drained; his physical strength was fading away, and his soul was slowly disintegrating under this evil power's erosion. Even as he struggled desperately, every movement was futile, like a nightmare from which he could not escape.
The book remained on the table, quietly emanating its malevolent glow, as if waiting for his complete surrender. Fear completely engulfed James's heart, but his body was beyond his control; the boundary between his soul and reality blurred gradually, and he even began to doubt whether he still existed.
The lights in James's room flickered erratically, as if disturbed by some strange interference. Each time the light flickered, shadows twisted and morphed on the walls; the room appeared like a crime scene unfolding. A thick atmosphere of evil pervaded the air, an omnipresent sense of oppression. The cold darkness consumed the entire space, gradually dispelling all light and goodness. This was no longer a warm home for humanity but a cursed place where light became a joke and compassion and justice were nowhere to be found; all that remained was the crimson glow waiting to harvest souls.
James's wails echoed in the room—hoarse and mournful—like those of a soul tortured to its limits. Each cry seemed to narrate unbearable pain as if trying to tear apart the very fabric of existence. Yet his voice seemed swallowed by this room, unable to penetrate the thick atmosphere of evil.
At that moment when James's cries rang out, an elderly couple living next door for many years heard these strange sounds. They sat in their small living room sipping hot tea, enjoying a peaceful evening. However, James's anguished voice shattered this tranquility. The old woman’s hand trembled slightly as she set down her teacup and looked toward the wall with a hint of unease on her face.
"Did you hear that?" she asked softly, her brow furrowed.
Her husband also heard James's wails and frowned deeply. Although they knew James was a professor who had lived next door for years, they had never interacted much. He was always reclusive with a vacant expression and never engaged warmly with those around him; it was as if he lived in his own closed-off world. Even greeting someone meant merely nodding without further words. But today was different.
"It's James..." the old man nodded gravely. His voice lowered as he said, "What happened to him? I've never heard him scream like that."
"I don't know... but he sounds like he's in a lot of pain..." The old woman appeared anxious, her heart filled with doubt. The piercing wails unsettled her, especially on a night like this when the lights flickered ominously, casting an unusual eerie feeling over the entire environment.
"Should we go check on him?" The old man also felt a twinge of worry. Although he rarely interacted with James, they had been neighbors for many years, and this situation stirred a sense of urgency within him.
"Maybe..." The old woman hesitated, but her unease grew stronger. "I think he might be in trouble..."
The elderly couple exchanged a glance, both sensing an indescribable strangeness and concern. They knew James was reclusive, seemingly without friends, and they had never seen anyone visit him. He always kept to himself, appearing isolated from the world. However, faced with such anguished cries, they could no longer remain calmly at home. After all, the sound did not seem trivial; it felt as if an indescribable disaster was unfolding.
Outside, the wind howled, carrying a chilling breath that enveloped the world in an atmosphere of malevolence.
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