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墨書 Inktalez
In the endless darkness, Ironclad felt himself plummeting continuously. This descent had no direction, no end, only darkness and fear surrounding him. His heart was filled with panic, but as time passed, the panic gradually gave way to helplessness and despair. He did not know when this fall would end; he only felt as if his body was sinking into an endless void.
Suddenly, a strong impact jolted him awake from the chaos of nothingness. He felt himself crash violently against a hard surface. Every inch of his skin, every bone in his body, throbbed with intense pain. This pain brought him back to consciousness, reminding him that he had returned to the real world.
He struggled to move his body, but found that his limbs seemed to no longer obey him. He felt as if he were tightly bound by invisible chains, unable to move. The darkness around him made him feel suffocated, but as time passed, the darkness gradually receded, and a faint light shone in. His senses gradually returned, and the first thing he felt was the heavy smell of dust, burning, and blood in the air. Then, the intense pain of numerous burns made him feel as if flames were burning on his skin.
The pain forced him to open his eyes, despite his eyelids feeling as heavy as if they were being weighed down by a heavy object. When he could finally see clearly around him, he was surprised to find that he had returned to a certain floor of the tower, the very place where he had previously battled the stone. The traces of the battle were still clearly visible, but the figure of the stone had disappeared.
His heart was filled with confusion and fear, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The endless descent, the cold and merciless voice—was all of this a dream or reality?
On the cold, hard ground of the Tower, Ironclad lay in agony. With every breath, he felt the intense pain on his burned skin, as if countless needles were piercing into him. He knew he needed to get up, but the pain in his body made it nearly impossible to move.
He tried to lift his body slightly, but even that small movement caused him excruciating pain. The friction between his burned skin and the ground made him groan involuntarily. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and the pain made it almost impossible for him to think. But he knew he couldn't just lie there; every minute of delay could take him further away from uncovering The Mystery of the Tower.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his body. His hands clenched the ground tightly, as he struggled to support his body. His arms trembled, his heart pounded fiercely, as if trying to shake off all the pain. Every inch of his skin warned him, but his willpower kept him trying.
Gradually, he felt a trace of strength returning to his body. His breathing became rhythmic, and his vision became clear. Once again, he felt the sword in his hand, and the cold hilt gave him a sense of power.
After numerous attempts, he finally succeeded in lifting his body off the ground, his legs straining to support him. His breathing became rapid, but his eyes burned with a determined light. He knew he couldn't stay here; he had to keep moving forward. No matter how many difficulties and pains lay ahead, he had to uncover the mystery of the tower, break the curse, and regain his freedom.
He swayed slightly as he steadied himself, breathing in the taste of dust and blood in the air. He tightened his grip on the sword in his hand and stepped deeper into the tower. Each step was filled with pain, but his heart was brimming with hope and determination. He would not let any difficulties block his path; he was determined to unravel all the mysteries and reclaim his destiny.
Ironclad took a deep breath, striving to steady his trembling body. He attempted to get his muscles and bones moving again, each slight movement bringing a tearing pain. He could feel the burned skin ripping apart, and every action felt like walking on a tightrope. The agony furrowed his brow tightly, but he knew he could not give up just like that.
Blood of Fire flows within him, working hard to heal his wounds. However, the injuries are too severe, and Blood of Fire seems unable to quickly restore his body to its optimal state. He feels the strength slowly returning, but every movement still causes him immense pain.
He tightly grips the sword in his hand, using it as a support, struggling to move his body. The cold hardness of the sword gives him a sense of reassurance and the courage to move forward. Though his steps are difficult, his gaze is unwaveringly determined.
He slowly moved toward the stone corpse, each step seeming to test his resolve. His breathing became rapid, but his gaze remained steadfast. The stone corpse lay quietly ahead; it had once been the guardian of the Tower, but now it was nothing more than a cold rock. Ironclad knew that each level of the Tower had different guardians and challenges awaiting him. He could not stop here; pain was merely a necessary path to the truth.
As Ironclad bent down to examine the stone corpse, he suddenly felt a faint glow emanating from its surface. In that instant, another memory of battle flashed through his mind, as vivid and intense as lightning.
In his memory, he was surrounded tightly by a group of monsters, each with a cold and cruel gaze, clearly wanting to tear him apart. His situation was very dire, yet he showed no sign of retreat or fear.
He suddenly slashed his own arm, and the Blood of Fire sprayed out, turning into flames in the air, illuminating the dark battlefield. A mysterious mark suddenly appeared on his hand, carrying ancient and mystical power, as if from another dimension.
The mark burned fiercely on his hand, each flicker of the flames seemingly chanting an ancient incantation. Suddenly, a massive surge of fire erupted from the mark, completely surrounding the horde of monsters around him. The flames were incredibly intense, and every monster screamed in agony as their bodies melted away into ashes. Amidst the inferno, Ironclad stood motionless, his eyes filled with rage and fury.
As the memories gradually faded, Ironclad came back to his senses, still hunched over, facing the cold stone corpses before him.
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