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墨書 Inktalez
By the edge of the forest, beside the stream, the night descended like a vast black satin curtain, heavy and oppressive.
The surrounding trees stood like silent sentinels, casting eerie shadows under the dim moonlight.
Leon hid behind a sturdy oak tree, every nerve in his body taut, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
His breath was rapid and labored, the longsword in his hand trembling slightly, reflecting the cold moonlight—a weapon thirsting for blood.
As time slowly passed, Leon's heart raced to his throat.
He dared not take his eyes off the narrow path by the stream, his mind flooded with images of Alice and Oliver together, jealousy crashing over him like relentless waves.
“Oliver, why do you have to take Alice away from me? Tonight will be your last,” he repeated in his mind over and over again, trying to solidify his resolve with hatred.
Finally, at the end of the path, a familiar figure emerged. Oliver carried a wooden bucket, walking briskly, completely unaware of the danger closing in. He hummed a tune, a carefree smile on his face as moonlight bathed him, outlining his tall silhouette.
The moment Leon saw Oliver, his gaze turned as cold as an ice cellar, filled with murderous intent.
He took a deep breath, striving to calm himself, his feet rooted to the ground as he slowly stepped out from behind the tree. His steps were as light as a stalking panther, each movement careful to avoid making a sound.
When he was only a few steps away from Oliver, Leon suddenly quickened his pace, raising the longsword high. A flash of cold light glinted as he thrust it toward Oliver's back.
At that critical moment, Oliver seemed to sense something amiss and instinctively sidestepped.
The longsword grazed his clothing and plunged into the earth beside him.
“Who?” Oliver shouted in terror, quickly turning around to face the snarling Leon. His eyes were filled with shock and confusion. “Leon, what are you doing?”
Leon did not respond. He pulled out his longsword with force and lunged at Oliver once more. Oliver quickly set down the wooden barrel in his hands and sidestepped to avoid the attack. The barrel rolled to the side, making a dull thud as it hit the ground.
"Leon, are you crazy?" Oliver shouted while dodging, trying to understand Leon's intentions while searching for an escape.
But Leon was completely blinded by jealousy at that moment; all he could think about was killing the person before him.
The two engaged in a fierce battle by the stream. Leon's attacks were relentless, each strike infused with deadly power.
Though Oliver fought back with all his might, he was caught off guard and gradually found himself at a disadvantage.
Leon’s longsword grazed Oliver's arm, blood flowing down and dripping onto the grass by the stream, glistening ominously in the moonlight.
"Leon, calm down!" Oliver shouted, attempting to awaken some sense of reason in him. "Is there anything we can't talk about?"
But Leon was deaf to his words; his eyes were filled only with madness and determination.
He attacked recklessly, roaring, "You took Alice from me! I want you dead!"
In the heat of the fight, Oliver tripped over a stone and fell to the ground.
Seizing the opportunity, Leon lunged forward, raising his sword high, aiming directly at Oliver's heart. Just as the blade was about to pierce Oliver's body, a flash of Alice's face suddenly crossed Leon's mind.
Her smile, her tenderness, her kindness shone like a light piercing through his darkened soul.
Leon’s hand trembled violently, a flicker of hesitation flashing in his eyes.
In that moment, Oliver summoned all his strength and kicked Leon in the abdomen.
Leon staggered back a few steps, dropping the longsword from his hand.
Oliver quickly got up, picked up a stone from the ground, and hurled it at Leon.
The stone struck Leon on the forehead, and blood began to flow down his cheek. Darkness enveloped Leon's vision as he collapsed to the ground.
Oliver looked at Leon lying on the ground, feeling a mix of emotions within him.
He couldn't understand why Leon, who had once been somewhat friendly, had become so mad with jealousy.
He picked up Leon's longsword, pointed it at him, and gasped, "Leon, you have disappointed me greatly. I will hand you over to the village chief for him to deal with."
At that moment, the grass by the stream was stained with blood, and the air was thick with the scent of iron.
This bloody night of conflict had driven two people who might have become friends into an irreparable situation.
And Leon, lying on the ground and gazing at the night sky, was filled with regret.
His jealousy had not only destroyed Oliver but also ruined any possibility between himself and Alice.
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