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墨書 Inktalez
Mocus felt an overwhelming fear rising within him, increasingly difficult to control. He fought against the unease in his heart and hurried to a water barrel in the corner of the tent. With trembling hands, he scooped up a handful of cold water and splashed it onto his face, trying to awaken himself. The icy water brought a fleeting moment of clarity, but the unease did not dissipate; instead, it intensified, sharpened by the shock of the cold.
He took several deep breaths, attempting to steady his breathing, but each inhalation felt like a labored gasp, the pressure in his chest preventing him from relaxing. When he lifted his head, the surroundings appeared distorted. The flames from the torches, which should have been warm, now seemed glaringly bright. The flickering light resembled countless sharp blades piercing his eyes, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
Mocus scanned the area with fearful uncertainty. He could not determine if these strange sensations were merely figments of his imagination, but the eerie atmosphere sent chills down his spine, as if something was lurking in the shadows, watching him and waiting for the right moment to strike.
Suddenly, that chilling itch returned, this time more intense than before. Mocus felt an unbearable sensation crawling beneath his skin, as if something was writhing inside him. In panic, he clawed at his body, but no matter how much he scratched, the itch remained relentless.
Finally unable to endure it any longer, he tore open his shirt and looked down at his body. The firelight illuminated his exposed skin; his eyes were filled with terror and anticipation, as if bracing for some horrific sight. However, when he glanced down at himself, there was nothing amiss.
Mocus's chest, abdomen, and arms were still smooth and unblemished; there were no signs of anything unusual. The intense itch seemed to originate from deep within his skin yet offered no visible cause on the surface. This only heightened his anxiety; the fear inside him grew like a vine spiraling out of control, slowly consuming his sanity.
"What is happening..." Mocus murmured softly to himself, his voice trembling with fear. He could not comprehend the source of this feeling or explain why he felt such profound unease. This bizarre experience brought him to the brink of collapse; he began to doubt whether he had already been tainted by some curse.
In a flurry of panic, he pulled his shirt back together in an attempt to conceal that indescribable fear, but the chaos and unease within him lingered stubbornly. Everything around him became blurred—the firelight, shadows, even the air itself felt strangely distorted.
Mocus was overwhelmed by an unprecedented fear surging through him; he frantically reached for his glasses, hoping that familiar perspective would help calm him down. Yet as soon as his hand touched the glasses, it froze suddenly as if bound by some invisible force that rendered him immobile. His hand hung stiffly in midair as if this simple action had become utterly unattainable.
At that moment, a low and chilling voice echoed in his mind once more—this time more commanding and insistent: "Wake up and take a good look at what lies before you."
A fierce wave of resistance and confusion surged within Mocus. He had no idea where this voice came from or why he could not control his own body. This strange sensation made him feel utterly powerless; it was as if his sanity had crumbled in an instant. He wanted to scream out loud and question whether he had lost his mind entirely, but when he tried to speak, it felt as though his throat had instantly dried up—he couldn't utter a single word. Each time he attempted to voice himself, a sharp pain shot through his throat as if something was tightly gripping it, preventing any words from escaping.
The silent scream of terror made Mocus feel as though he was plummeting into an endless abyss; an invisible pressure pushed him toward despair's edge. His breathing quickened further; cold sweat trickled down from his forehead while every cell in his body trembled. He wanted to break free but found himself completely immobilized as if under total control.
At that moment, Mocus suddenly noticed an incredible phenomenon. His severe myopia, which had plagued him for so long, vanished in an instant. He was astonished to find that everything around him had become extraordinarily clear; the flickering flames, the textures inside the tent, and even the tiny particles of dust on the ground were vividly visible to him, as if he had never suffered from poor eyesight.
"This... how is this possible?" Mocus asked himself internally, but he could find no answer. He looked around in disbelief; the scene before him was so clear yet carried an unsettling sense of unreality, as if he were trapped in some kind of dream.
His hand remained stiffly suspended in mid-air, unable to complete the simple action. The voice in his mind whispered again, carrying an indescribable chill: "Accept it... this is your reality."
Mocus's heart raced violently; he felt his world completely upended at that moment. He was no longer the scholar who controlled his own fate but a puppet manipulated by unseen forces. This indescribable fear shattered his composure, and he sensed himself being gradually led toward an unfathomable abyss of darkness, powerless to resist.
A mix of surprise and joy surged within Mocus. He blinked in disbelief as the world before him became clearer than ever. He could discern every detail inside the tent—the flickering flames, the fabric's texture, and even the subtle changes in Alison's facial expressions—all magnified several times, with every detail laid bare.
The sudden enhancement of his vision was so shocking that he could hardly believe his eyes. His myopia had been a long-standing burden, preventing him from going without glasses or contact lenses. Yet now, that problem had vanished without a trace. The world before him seemed to have peeled away layers of fog, revealing a breathtaking sense of reality.
However, this strange transformation did not stop there. Just as he marveled at his restored vision, he felt a long-lost lightness in his shoulders. For years, shoulder pain had plagued him, leaving him perpetually fatigued and affecting both his work and life. But at this moment, that pain seemed to dissipate along with this mysterious power; his shoulders felt remarkably relaxed, as if that heavy burden had never existed.
"What... what is happening?" Mocus murmured in astonishment, filled with confusion and unease. He could not comprehend how all this was occurring, but it felt as if he had suddenly gained some mysterious power—an ability far beyond reason.
His heart raced faster as excitement and fear intertwined within him, leaving him feeling disoriented. This miraculous change brought an indescribable joy, yet deep inside lingered an inexplicable fear that refused to fade away. Everything was happening too suddenly and too astonishingly for him to ignore its strangeness.
His fingers gently brushed against his shoulder; that long-awaited lightness offered him a measure of comfort. Yet again, the deep voice echoed in his mind like some dark whisper: "This is our gift... accept it, and you will receive more."
Mocus shuddered; he began to realize that all these changes seemed connected to the voice in his head. That voice, imbued with an irresistible power, was gradually taking control of his body and thoughts, guiding him step by step toward an unknown direction.
"What... what should I do?" Mocus silently questioned himself but found no answer. He felt as though he stood on the edge of a cliff with an unknown abyss yawning beneath him; he did not know how to choose. The changes in his vision and body exhilarated him, yet the hidden danger lurking behind them left him restless.
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