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墨書 Inktalez
Xu Rong's gaze was drawn to the newborn's eyeball, which had transformed from the typical clarity of an infant's eye into a black vinyl record. As the baby cried, the record began to spin slowly, playing distorted recordings. Among those recordings were the screams of Xu Rong himself, dying twenty years later, each word piercing his eardrums like a blade.
"They are not fetuses..." A voice came from the corner, prompting Xu Rong to quickly turn his attention to its source. The Delivery Nurse stood there, her body grotesquely mutated. Her tongue curled into the shape of a saxophone, and metallic keys protruded from her cheeks, as if she were about to play a bizarre melody at any moment. Her words carried a mechanical indifference, each syllable squeezed out like it was produced by a machine: "It is the Seed Sower's Memory Vessel..."
As Xu Rong was still processing this statement, the oldest mother suddenly let out a piercing scream. Her abdomen exploded in an instant, blood and entrails splattering everywhere. A Class Lifeform covered in sheet music crawled out from her opened belly. Its body twisted and morphed, fingers transforming into black-and-white piano keys, resembling a living piano. Each time it lightly tapped the ground, it sounded like the beating of time's drum, creating folds in space-time.
Xu Rong's vision began to distort as he witnessed scenes from the 1945 Hiroshima atomic bombing overlapping with the current ruins. The mushroom cloud of the nuclear explosion, burning buildings, and terrified civilians appeared simultaneously with the mutated beings and victims of the blast. The screams echoed between two timelines, nearly shattering Xu Rong's eardrums.
On the streets of Wall Street, the Bronze Bull Statue emitted an eerie red glow as its body gradually melted away. The bronze dripping from its horns pooled on the ground, forming a massive vortex. From its center came a low hum, as if calling something forth.
Standing at the edge of the vortex, Xu Rong peered through the thin layer of bronze liquid and saw countless office workers surging from all directions. Their eyes were hollow and dazed, as if driven by some invisible force, leaping unhesitatingly into the whirlpool. As they were consumed by it, Xu Rong watched their bodies sink slowly into the bronze liquid, their memories dissolving and reconfiguring.
When a Fund Manager crawled out of the vortex, his suit was already covered in muscle fibers resembling piano strings, and his pupils flickered with the violent fluctuations of the stock market during the Great Depression of 1929, as if those painful memories had merged into his very being.
"This is not mutation..." Xu Rong extended his hand and gently touched the edge of the vortex with his fingertips. In an instant, pulses of billions of memories surged from it, crashing against his nerves.
He saw countless fragments from various timelines: children toiling in factories, people wandering the streets in famine, soldiers struggling in the mud of war... These memories surged into his mind like a tidal wave, nearly suffocating him.
"It is the corruption of time itself..." Xu Rong whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
From the depths of the vortex came the booming sound of a Pipe Organ, deep and resonant, as if it were echoing from the very depths of hell.
Xu Rong's vision began to distort, and he found himself witnessing a scene from the Berlin Philharmonic in 1938. Hitler stood on the podium, conducting a mutated symphony orchestra.
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