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墨書 Inktalez
Even for seasoned detectives and forensic experts, the sight before them was enough to suppress any sense of composure, replaced instead by a wave of nausea and dread. It was as if they had been pulled from the depths of a nightmare—an utterly mangled corpse hung like a torn puppet from a gnarled tree, its intestines and entrails draped over the branches, the putrid flesh emitting a nauseating stench that attracted countless flies and insects swirling in the air.
"What... what kind of monster could do this?" a veteran detective murmured, his usually stoic expression now frozen in horror. Though he had encountered many crime scenes, the sheer brutality and malice displayed here sent chills racing down his spine. Who could commit such inhuman acts against another human being?
The forensic expert crouched beside the body, meticulously examining the nearly unrecognizable wounds and severed marks. As he reached out to touch it, the decayed skin and muscle had been gnawed away to almost nothing; a light touch caused the rotting flesh to flake off like damp paper, releasing an even stronger foul odor. His brow furrowed deeply; despite being accustomed to dealing with death, the suffocating violence before him provoked a visceral reaction—his stomach churned violently, nearly overwhelming him with the urge to vomit.
"Who would do such a thing... This is no simple murder... This is complete slaughter and destruction," he muttered to himself, desperately seeking any rational explanation amidst the cruelty surrounding him.
However, not everyone could endure such a scene. A few younger officers stood nearby, their faces pale. While they might have grown accustomed to crime scenes, this grotesquely decomposed body radiated an extreme aura of evil that shattered their composure. One young officer suddenly covered his mouth and stepped back, unable to suppress his retching; the wet sound echoed painfully in the stillness. Another colleague beside him fared no better, his face as white as paper, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to steady his notebook.
Meanwhile, outside the cordoned-off area, a pack of reporters circled like bloodthirsty sharks. They did everything in their power to capture every detail of the scene; flashes from cameras erupted continuously as they aimed at the police and the body. Some reporters couldn't help but shout questions, eager to extract more information from the authorities.
"What exactly is going on? What condition is the body in?" one reporter leaned forward from the crowd, his voice filled with excitement and urgency as if this bloody massacre were the headline he had always dreamed of.
"Is there any further news? Is this a murder case or is there something more behind it?" another reporter called out loudly, disregarding the somber atmosphere.
These reporters, typically ravenous for sensational stories, now resembled sharks sensing blood in the water, fixated on the mangled corpse that bore witness to unspeakable horror. They would not let slip any opportunity for headlines, regardless of how many lives were represented by this tragedy.
This bizarre and horrific slaughter quickly spread across major media outlets and social platforms like wildfire. Television news incessantly reported on "the emergence of a perverse killer; a brutal murder shocks the entire city," with gruesome details seeping into every household's daily life through screens. On social media, countless users frantically shared reports and speculations about the crime scene; within just hours, the entire city was engulfed in tension and fear.
Rumors swirled as people speculated wildly. Some claimed that the perpetrator was a professionally trained serial killer—cold-blooded and deranged; others suggested it might be a victim of some underground cult ritual; many began to wonder if this could be the start of something larger—a wave of criminal activity. Anxiety gripped everyone as an undercurrent of danger seemed to lurk everywhere, casting shadows of fear over every corner of the city.
Yet James sat comfortably in his soft leather chair, holding a steaming cup of coffee while watching the latest murder news unfold on television. In stark contrast to the widespread panic in the city, James felt an overwhelming sense of delight. As he watched images of the crime scene replaying on screen, a slight smile crept across his lips, his eyes glinting with a hint of wicked satisfaction.
"Hunter... he did it." James chuckled inwardly. He knew that this brutal massacre was the result of Hunter's own hand. The madman he had nurtured had finally delivered a perfect sacrifice. Hunter's madness and cruelty were exactly the kind of evil and chaos James had hoped for; he craved this kind of uncontrollable destruction, watching society teeter on the brink of fear.
The television news continuously reported the details of the case, with reporters solemnly narrating the horrific scene at the crime site. They particularly noted that the police had found multiple key pieces of evidence, including the murder weapon, Hunter's fingerprints, and clear signs of carelessness. These clues would undoubtedly lead Hunter down a path of destruction—an inescapable fate.
As James listened to the reports, his sense of delight grew stronger. He knew Hunter would eventually be caught, and this was all part of his meticulous plan. He had deliberately given Hunter enough attention-grabbing guidance to let him indulge in his own power, lose his sanity, and ultimately reveal his flaws amidst the carnage.
"What a perfect drama..." James thought to himself, a cold thrill flickering in his eyes. He looked forward to Hunter's downfall, anticipating the climax of this hunting game. The police would find Hunter, and he would lead them straight to all the evidence against himself. In doing so, the case of the elderly couple would gradually fade away, becoming just another part of the city's fear. James no longer needed to worry about anyone tracing back to him because Hunter's foolishness had covered everything up.
"What a foolish tool..." James murmured softly, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes while a satisfied smile lingered on his lips.
Hunter's capture came surprisingly quickly, even beyond everyone's expectations. Based on the fingerprints left at the crime scene, the police swiftly identified him. Coupled with his previous criminal record for indecency, this dangerous individual lurking on society's fringes had nowhere left to hide. The police immediately launched a citywide search and eventually found him in an internet café.
When the officers burst through the door, Hunter did not resist as violently as anticipated. He simply sat quietly at a computer in the corner, oddly calm. The computer screen was even turned off, its black surface reflecting his crazed and emaciated face. That face appeared grotesquely distorted through the dark reflection, with bloodshot eyes exuding an unmistakable aura of madness and evil.
Hunter sat there as if he were in another world. His hands rested lightly on the keyboard, trembling slightly, appearing so fragile that a gust of wind could knock him over. No one knew how many days he had gone without food or water. From his gaunt frame and hollow gaze, it was evident that he seemed completely immersed in some unfathomable mental realm, disconnected from reality yet emanating an inexplicable atmosphere of malevolence.
The police had expected to face a struggle during the arrest and were prepared with all means necessary to subdue this cold-blooded killer but found him like a rigid puppet with no resistance whatsoever. Hunter neither struggled nor complained; he simply sat there quietly as if he had long anticipated this moment.
"He looks just like a corpse..." one officer whispered to a colleague nearby, shock evident in his tone. Hunter's emaciated form and dust-covered clothes made him appear less like someone who had just committed a bloody massacre and more like a walking dead man who had lost all connection to this world.
His bloodshot eyes slowly turned towards them as they approached but showed no signs of panic or fear. The corners of Hunter's mouth curled into an eerie smile as if he were indifferent to his impending capture.
"Arrest me," he said softly in a hoarse voice laced with undeniable excitement. "This is just the beginning... everything is still ongoing." His tone carried an air of madness and mystery, as if he held some secret that everything was merely part of his elaborate design.
The police couldn't help but shiver. Even though they had successfully apprehended Hunter, they saw a deeper darkness in his crazed eyes. This was not mere violence; it concealed a more bizarre and sinister power.
Hunter, handcuffed, maintained an eerie calm. A disturbing smile seemed to linger at the corners of his mouth, wild and wicked, as if he held utter contempt for all the order in this world. He knew that this was just the beginning.
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