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墨書 Inktalez
Last night, I was so excited that I couldn't sleep well. I wrote and wrote, and somehow managed to produce two chapters. I'm releasing them together, one of which is a free chapter as a thank you to my friends who have always supported me. Thank you all, and please continue to support this book.
However, my body felt unusually stiff, especially the severe pain radiating from my right back to my right arm, making every movement feel as rigid as a puppet. My brain, deprived of oxygen, was still in a foggy state, unable to coordinate my limbs. I intended to bend my left arm and stretch my right arm forward to climb, but my left hand slipped instead. This nearly caused me to slide toward the end of the rope, and I immediately halted all movements.
Even in my semi-conscious state, I knew this was bad. I had no ability to climb onto the log; all I could do was prevent myself from sliding backward or sinking into the water. The only relief was that I could breathe freely.
The rope tied to the flashlight was short; the flashlight should be about a meter behind me, but I didn't even have the strength to turn around. I felt that illumination wasn't necessary; the log was right in front of me, and I could sense it. Currently, the log was shaking violently; I often found myself jolted off the pavement and crashing heavily into the water. It seemed that this large log was struggling under the pressure of the whirlpool.
If that were true, climbing onto the log seemed less important now.
As the oxygen levels in my blood increased, my mind gradually cleared up enough for normal thought processes. However, both of my arms were extremely sore and numb, and my grip on the rope trembled at its limit. Although I had never received professional climbing training, years of outdoor work had given me plenty of practice. My arms and fingers were strong; I could hang from a single finger and perform pull-ups with just two fingers holding me up for a while. But now, my arms felt utterly drained.
I knew this was mainly due to pain consuming too much energy. Under normal circumstances, my stamina wouldn't deplete so easily. But this made me even more dangerous; in my current state, with nothing reliable to hold onto, what I thought would be a sturdy giant log was now precarious. Everything depended on myself. Yet in this condition, even if an opportunity arose, it would be hard to seize it. Moreover, if a chance did appear, it would likely be fleeting; my physical state struggled to cope with such a situation.
Nevertheless, I had no intention of giving up; my will to survive remained strong. To increase my slim chances of survival, I made an effort to turn onto my side—I needed to get hold of the one-eyed beast.
Even this simple motion took great effort. In a state of exhaustion, maintaining bodily coordination became a challenge. During this process, I had to ensure that my body maintained an upward angle so that my upper body—especially my head—wouldn't plunge into the water. The giant log dragged me quickly; if my body tilted incorrectly and fell into the water, I'd quickly sink into deeper waters—the thought alone sent shivers down my spine.
Just as I struggled to adjust my posture, something struck hard against my back—like a stick. The sudden blow forced me back down onto the pavement. The stick hit on the left side of my spine; had it struck on the right side instead, it might have knocked me unconscious from pain. However, this blow was still quite painful. The force sent me rolling on the pavement as I continuously adjusted my position to avoid plunging into the water during the fall.
My efforts were not in vain. When I finally stabilized in an upward position, I remained on the pavement. However, this posture placed immense strain on both arms; they were nearly bent backward over my head while I strained to keep my head raised—it must have looked quite awkward. But this position affected my back even more severely. The severe pain rendered any concern about how I looked irrelevant as my right hand uncontrollably released its grip on the rope. All of my strength suddenly concentrated in my left hand as my body involuntarily tilted sideways.
I could feel the rope slipping little by little from my left hand; with no remaining strength to support all of my weight with just one arm, I could have easily collapsed onto the pavement using my right hand for assistance with gripping the rope—but I didn’t do that. This position allowed me to locate both the one-eyed beast flashlight and whatever had just attacked me.
This is utterly ridiculous. In this swirling water, even a ten-meter-long piece of wood cannot remain stable, yet something is still attacking me. It's completely abnormal. I can't see what is attacking me; everything is pitch black around me, except for something glowing beneath my feet—that's the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight.
The One-Eyed Beast Flashlight is submerged in the water, its beam directed backward, but the light is unstable. The flashlight flickers wildly with the flow of the water, casting streaks of white light that reveal nothing within them.
I grasp the rope tied to the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight with my right hand and pull it toward me. The rope in my left hand continues to slip away little by little. I feel powerless and unable to change this situation; I even contemplate letting go and sliding toward the end of the rope at any moment. Of course, this thought only arises when I realize that the creature attacking me is beyond my ability to confront. However, its ability to withstand the massive whirlpool already proves its invincibility.
The flashlight I hold in my right hand has not been lifted from the pavement; the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight is waterproof, and its refraction underwater is better than shining it from the pavement into the water. The thing attacking me is in the water, making it easier for the One-Eyed Beast to spot it.
There’s nothing in front of me in the water, and nothing is visible below either. Grasping the rope with one hand is difficult; under the immense force, my weight feels multiplied several times over, making dislocating or breaking my left arm a real possibility. Yet there’s an advantage to this: my body can flip around quite nimbly. I quickly turn to shine the light behind me, but still find nothing.
With the beam of the One-Eyed Beast set to maximum, that thing capable of resisting such a powerful whirlpool cannot be just one creature, and my reflexes are quick enough that there’s no reason I shouldn’t see it. This realization drives me a bit frantic because it leaves me uncertain about what choice to make.
I turn back once more; I must find that danger. The unknown threat weighs heavier on my psyche than facing an obvious danger.
In that instant of turning, as the flashlight leaves the pavement, something flickers within its beam. Although I don’t believe it’s the creature attacking me because it’s too blurry to see clearly, this floating object in the water demands my attention. I quickly direct the light from the One-Eyed Beast toward it and nearly burst into tears upon seeing what it is.
It’s a rope. And it's exactly this rope in my hand—the end tied to Buasong. The rope is taut, almost pressed against the pavement, and it bounces rhythmically; each bounce sends splashes of water flying as if it possesses great strength. It becomes clear to me: I was knocked over by this taut rope.
My heart races with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, but I immediately point the flashlight along the rope behind me. What I see next is… (To Be Continued…)
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