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墨書 Inktalez
The body of God Tone was heavy and clumsy, each movement accompanied by a suffocating effort. His palms were already bloodied, the gaps between his fingers cracked, with blood and fragments of stone intertwining to create a tragic picture. Despite this, he did not pause or groan; he simply continued to dig through the obstacles ahead.
It felt as if God Tone bore the weight of the entire world, each step taken on the shards of a broken heart. His fingers were numb, yet he exerted every ounce of strength to excavate the stones, as if these hard barriers were merely a fleeting test. Blood and sweat mingled on his face, forming a picture stained with tears and blood, but his gaze remained resolute and bright.
His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath feeling like it was drawn from beneath immense pressure. Although his bulk made his movements appear awkward, at that moment, it seemed unusually firm under his determination. With every exertion, his muscles and flesh protested, yearning to give up, but God Tone's heart grew more steadfast because he knew he was the only one who could control their fate at this critical moment.
Light from outside streamed through narrow gaps, illuminating God Tone's face where sweat and blood intertwined like beams of hope. His eyes reflected these faint glimmers, filled with indomitable spirit. As the stones were gradually cleared from the passage, God Tone felt that he was not only carving out a path for himself but also forging a road of hope for those who depended on him.
He would not allow himself to stop or succumb to weakness; only by pressing forward and striving continuously could he honor his identity as an older brother and as a man. Each stone he moved was a challenge to his potential; every time he resisted fatigue, it was a test of his character. In that moment, God Tone reached an unprecedented height both physically and mentally.
Every breath felt like swallowing hot air; he sensed the pressure on his chest, but it did not halt his progress. He understood that they could only rely on themselves now; only through their own efforts could they find a way to survive. Though the light outside was but a faint glimmer of dawn, for God Tone, it symbolized a thread of hope.
As the stones were moved one by one and the passage became clearer, God Tone's mood grew increasingly excited. He no longer felt the fatigue and pain in his body; only a desire for survival and anticipation for the future remained. A determined light shone in his eyes—a will that could not be defeated.
In that moment, God Tone felt his strength and value. He knew this disaster was a test and an opportunity, and he would prove his resilience and courage through action. No matter how difficult the road ahead might be, he would forge ahead because he believed that as long as there was faith, everything could be overcome.
Each time God Tone moved the stones with bare hands appeared clumsy and painful. His thick fingers left bloodstains on the unyielding rock edges; skin scraped against the rough surfaces of the stones, yet he seemed oblivious to these physical pains. All he wanted was to carve out a path for everyone, to rescue them from this crumbling prison.
However, just as God Tone's movements began to gain strength, he suddenly stopped like a machine that had lost power, standing there in a daze. Sunan looked at God Tone, unsure of what had happened. God Tone's eyes were vacant, as if he had suddenly lost the will to move forward. The rumbling sounds from outside continued to echo, reminding them that the world beyond was still fighting while they might be forever trapped here.
Sunan called out to God Tone anxiously, hoping to bring him back to consciousness. Slowly focusing his eyes, God Tone glanced around and saw Polnareff who had been struggling tirelessly, Sunan still writhing in pain, and Sergeant Rad who lay unconscious.
God Tone's hands trembled in the air as he felt every cell in his body ache with helplessness. This invisible force seemed to pull him from within, threatening his willpower. He wanted to grasp the stones again and regain his composure, but his hands hung there as if out of control, unable to move forward even an inch.
A cold atmosphere enveloped him, like a layer of chilling mist that froze his heart. This feeling of helplessness and despair was like an invisible knife, constantly stabbing deep within his soul. He tried to encourage himself, urging himself to hold on, but every word felt like a painful lump in his throat, preventing him from uttering a complete sentence.
He felt as if he were trapped in an endless abyss, unable to climb out no matter how hard he tried. His breath grew increasingly rapid, as if an invisible hand was tightly squeezing his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The scene before him blurred, and he sensed that he was about to be consumed by this unseen force, powerless to resist.
In that moment, he experienced a despair and helplessness unlike anything he had ever known. He wanted to struggle, to fight back, but he knew he had reached his limit and could go no further. He closed his eyes and let the dark despair engulf him, feeling an endless loneliness and hopelessness as if he had been abandoned in this boundless darkness.
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