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墨書 Inktalez
Xiao He moved cautiously along the crumbling street, each step taken with care as her ears and eyes remained alert, scanning the surroundings.
The Abandoned City loomed like a vast grave, silent and filled with the unknown.
A suffocating sense of oppression hung in the air, as if every breath she took inhaled the despair of this dead city.
She spotted the remnants of a collapsed billboard by the roadside, faint patterns and words barely discernible on its surface.
The text resembled some sort of emblem or slogan, but she couldn't decipher which language it belonged to or what it meant.
They twisted and warped, much like her memories—fragmented and broken, akin to wounds corroded by time that refused to heal.
As she navigated around a pile of rubble, a faint cry for help reached her ears, tinged with a sobbing tone.
The sound was so soft it seemed it could vanish at any moment, like a flickering candle in the wind, ready to extinguish.
Xiao He’s heart raced; instinctively, she halted, her muscles tensing as if a predator had caught the scent of its prey.
Was it an illusion? Or were there other survivors on the island besides the Warden's voice and those numb shadows?
Guided by an inexplicable intuition, she discerned the general direction from which the sound came.
It led her to a half-collapsed building that looked poised to crumble further, resembling an elderly person on the verge of falling.
Xiao He hesitated for a moment, but some force within her—perhaps an instinct from her past profession—compelled her to approach cautiously.
She found a relatively stable entrance at the corner of the building and slipped inside, moving as gracefully as a cat.
The interior was dimly lit, and the air grew even more tainted; dust floated slowly in the weak light like a ghostly dance.
Following the sound, she carefully made her way forward until she discovered a young woman trapped in a corner beneath a slab of concrete that pinned her leg down.
The woman appeared frail, her face pale and her eyes filled with fear and helplessness, resembling a small creature caught in a trap.
When their eyes met, a flicker of caution crossed her gaze but was quickly replaced by hope, like a light suddenly illuminating the darkness.
She is Bai Zhi.
She told Xiao He that she couldn't remember anything, only her name, her voice as soft as a feather falling to the ground.
Xiao He crouched down, carefully examining her condition. Her fingers gently touched Bai Zhi's wounds, feeling the warmth of her skin and the pulse beneath.
The concrete slab was heavy. Bai Zhi tried to move it with her bare hands but found herself lacking the strength; her muscles trembled under the pressure, sweat trickling down her forehead.
Yet instinctively, her hands found the pressure points, knowing how to adjust her posture and maximize her strength, as if this knowledge had long been etched into her muscle memory.
Using a steel bar she had found earlier as a lever, she cautiously pried the concrete slab, her movements precise as if she were not attempting it for the first time.
Although the process was arduous, her actions were remarkably skilled and accurate, like those of an experienced rescuer.
In the end, she successfully moved the concrete slab aside. Bai Zhi's legs were red from being pinned but unbroken, only bruises marking her skin.
Xiao He tore strips from her clothing and, relying on some instinctual first aid knowledge, gently treated Bai Zhi's wounds with professional care.
Bai Zhi watched her movements with eyes full of gratitude and a hint of curiosity, as if trying to read Xiao He's past through her actions.
They decided to work together. In this island filled with uncertainty, two strangers became each other's support.
Though Bai Zhi was physically weak, she seemed to possess a peculiar sensitivity to her surroundings, like a born survival expert.
She could distinguish which plants were safe to eat, which water sources were drinkable, and even sense whether the air flow in a certain area was unusual.
This ability proved invaluable in the harsh conditions of the island, like a guiding light illuminating their path forward.
During their subsequent exploration, they unexpectedly discovered a stash made up of metal boxes neatly arranged among the ruins, resembling small fortresses.
The boxes bore prominent markings, and periodically small drones would fly by to drop food, water, and basic medical supplies packaged in makeshift bags.
This was a supply point provided by the Warden, like a cold-hearted benefactor who regularly delivered essential survival items without ever showing up.
As they gathered supplies, the voice of the Warden echoed in the air, booming like thunder above their heads: "Criminals, complete today's Purification Mission: cleanse Area X of Heresy. Those who excel will receive additional purification resources."
The voice was cold and devoid of emotion, slicing through everyone’s nerves like a sharp knife.
Xiao He furrowed her brow. What was Heresy? What did cleansing mean?
Her intuition told her that this Purification Mission was far from its literal meaning; it likely involved violent confrontations with other Amnesiacs, akin to a bloody gladiatorial battle where only the victors could claim the right to survive.
Bai Zhi shuddered slightly upon hearing the directive for the Purification Mission, a flicker of elusive fear and confusion crossing her eyes, like a startled fawn.
It seemed she had some vague aversion to this term or the task itself, yet she couldn’t articulate it, as if her memories were shrouded in a thick fog.
They witnessed a scene unfolding near another supply point in the distance, resembling a silent mime yet filled with bloodshed and violence.
Several Amnesiacs fought like beasts over the dropped supplies, the chaos and bloodiness of the scene overwhelming them, fists and teeth becoming their only weapons.
This stark reality made them acutely aware that, aside from the Warden, perhaps the most terrifying aspect of the island was the distorted humanity shaped by its environment—a mirror reflecting the ugly face of humanity in dire straits.
Watching those contorted faces struggling for survival, Xiao He and Bai Zhi became even more resolute in their commitment to rely on each other and seek the truth together, like two wounded birds tending to each other's wounds while searching for a way home.
They understood that on this island, trust was the only luxury, and memory might be the key to unlocking everything—a key capable of opening all the locks of mystery.
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