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墨書 Inktalez
James stood in the center of the room, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. His hands were still stained with blood, and his clothes were soaked in gore and grime, but he seemed indifferent, as if reveling in the chaos and death surrounding him. The room was a wreck, the stench of blood permeating the air, with the walls and floor splattered with the blood of the elderly couple.
The old woman huddled in a corner, her body trembling slightly, her clothes tattered and torn, stained with her husband's blood. The vivid red marks covered her like a broken statue. Her face was as pale as paper, her breath weak and labored, her eyes devoid of any light, leaving only deep fear and despair. She curled up like a shattered shell, hollow inside, with only silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
Time passed without her noticing until finally, her body ceased to tremble, and her breathing came to an end. Her last breath lingered in her throat for a moment before quietly vanishing. Her eyes remained half-open, unable to hide the final fear that froze in place during her last moments.
James stood there, coldly observing the old woman's corpse, a glint of madness flashing in his eyes. A cruel smile twisted at the corners of his mouth as his inner pleasure reached its peak. He surveyed the scene before him, filled with a sense of conquest as if he had finally reached the pinnacle of the world; this slaughter and destruction were merely his first steps toward power.
"Hahahaha..." James laughed maniacally, his laughter echoing through the room, infused with endless madness and pride. It was as if he mocked fate itself, daring death with his arrogance. His laughter grew louder, his entire body trembling with excitement and insanity that consumed him completely.
He looked down at the old woman's corpse, his gaze filled with a twisted pleasure as if her death were nothing more than a ridiculous game or a cruel joke of fate. He stood triumphantly amidst the pool of blood, feeling he had fully grasped the truth and power of this world.
James stood naked in the center of the room, his mad laughter still reverberating in the air around him, enveloping the space filled with blood and destruction. His chest heaved from overwhelming excitement, a wild grin plastered on his face as his eyes sparkled with a distorted light. Lying on the ground were the lifeless bodies of the elderly couple, two empty shells scattered like discarded props in a pool of blood.
"You worthless fools! Hahaha, look at you now!" James shouted derisively at their fallen forms. His voice dripped with contempt and arrogance as if these once-neighbors were merely a joke to him. He kicked at the old man's corpse with blatant malice, trampling on his past weakness and humiliation.
"Look at you both; it's truly pathetic!" James's tone was filled with mockery and disdain as his eyes burned with fervor, completely consumed by the thrill of victory. He glanced at his own body, blood smeared across his bare skin; that sticky liquid coated him yet he felt no revulsion—instead, it excited him even more.
James looked down at himself with pride flashing in his eyes. His hand gently caressed his body as if he were now the greatest being in existence. The youthful feeling surged back within him, filling him with an overwhelming sense of strength and invincibility.
"Hahaha, this is the real me!" James laughed wildly, his gaze shining with a victor's glow. His thoughts drifted back to that younger version of himself—unrestrained and unyielding. In his youth, he was fierce and fearless; anyone who crossed him faced his wrath without hesitation. He never bowed down or tolerated anything that obstructed him. He always believed that the world should be held by the strong—and he was that strong one.
"You think you can suppress me? Hahaha, that's laughable!" James's laughter brimmed with arrogance as he raised his head high as if this world was already under his control. "I have returned... that young version of me has returned!" His voice echoed throughout the room, filled with frenzied confidence.
He glanced at the corpse lying on the ground, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. To him, these two dead neighbors were nothing more than insignificant fragments, sacrifices on his path to resurgence. James's heart was filled with a twisted pleasure; the desire for power and control brought him immense satisfaction.
He knew this was just the beginning—he was no longer the powerless old man who cowered before William. He was the master of the world, the future king. His body and soul had been reborn through this bloody revelry, and the sensation of power surged back within him. He believed that no matter what obstacles he faced, he could once again trample over everyone and manipulate this world at will.
Just as James reveled in his own illusion of omnipotence, suddenly, the blood-soaked book on the floor emitted a low rumble, causing the entire room to tremble slightly. James's laughter gradually faded as his gaze was drawn to the book. His eyes widened in shock and a mix of fervor as he stared at it. The book seemed to come alive, slowly flipping its pages as if responding to the violence and death that had just occurred, as if the gruesome scene had awakened some dark power within its pages.
The sound of pages turning grew louder, filling the air with an invisible sense of oppression, as if the entire room was under the control of some unseen force. The book rapidly flipped to a page depicting a desiccated human face; that grotesque, twisted visage let out a piercing wail of agony, seemingly delighted by the recent tragedy in the room. The shriek was excruciatingly sharp, accompanied by fits of sinister laughter, intertwining pain and pleasure into a bizarre melody that resonated with all the suffering and evil present in that space.
James's heartbeat quickened in sync with this eerie sound; his breath became rapid, every nerve in his body stimulated to its limit. The ecstasy in his eyes could no longer be contained; excitement and madness surged within him like a tidal wave. He knew this sound came from that book, from an unspeakable dark presence within it. And this presence reveled in the massacre that had just taken place.
The face continued to wail, its voice resembling screams from the depths of hell, mingled with wicked laughter that sent chills down one’s spine. As James listened to this cacophony, he felt his own pleasure intensifying. His body began to tremble violently; unable to control himself, he knelt heavily on the ground, his knees sinking into the pool of blood left by the old man. Blood splattered across his legs and body, the wetness thrilling him to near madness.
"This is..." James gasped, his eyes crazed as they fixated on the book, his entire body twitching from uncontrollable excitement. "This is the power I have been waiting for..."
He gripped the ground tightly, knuckles turning white as he felt the dark power from within the book calling out to him, irresistible. Kneeling there, James seemed to await an ultimate judgment or some form of malevolent revelation. His body soaked in blood, it trickled down his skin like a sacrificial ritual; he was chosen by that dark force.
The sharp laughter intertwined with wails created a dissonant symphony that warped the entire space around him, as if time and reality were being torn apart by this force. James's body shook violently with each sound; his eyes widened in madness as he awaited that final moment to arrive. His heart brimmed with anticipation for that dark revelation—the one that would lead him to supreme power—seemingly on the verge of manifesting at that very instant.
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