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墨書 Inktalez
As James's voice faded, he gently waved his hand, and several officials were instantly lifted from their chairs by an invisible force, their bodies suspended in the air as if bound by unseen chains. Their limbs could not break free, and they floated helplessly toward the direction of the playground. Each face was etched with extreme terror, their eyes flickering with panic and despair, while anguished cries escaped their throats as they struggled in vain. The force held them firmly aloft like puppets, leaving no possibility of escape.
"Let me go! Let me go!" an elderly official shouted hoarsely, desperately thrashing his legs, his eyes filled with fear and pleading. Yet no matter how hard he twisted and flailed his arms, the invisible power remained unmoved, keeping him firmly suspended in mid-air. His body trembled continuously, cold sweat covering his face, his lips losing color as despair deepened in his gaze.
James looked coldly at the officials floating helplessly above him, a mocking smile spreading across his face, his tone dripping with cruel derision. "You self-proclaimed intellectual elites who consider yourselves at the pinnacle of society—aren't you confident? Shouldn't this test be a piece of cake for you?" His voice was icy and disdainful, as if he were observing a group of useless insects, a glimmer of sadistic pleasure flashing in his eyes.
"Don't disappoint me now!" James's tone was thick with mockery, malice glinting in his gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be the best of this society? Don't let any air escape."
Upon hearing James's words, the officials turned even paler, as if all courage had been crushed from their very souls. They struggled frantically, their hands flailing wildly in an attempt to grasp something to halt their inevitable fate. However, the invisible force relentlessly dragged them toward the center of the playground—the slaughterhouse that resembled a hellish battlefield.
The officials were mercilessly thrown from their chairs and crashed heavily onto the ground littered with corpses and blood. Their bodies collided painfully against the cold hard ground and scattered remains, sending shockwaves of pain through them. The stench hit them like an invisible wall, instantly enveloping them. The overwhelming smell of blood and decaying flesh invaded their nostrils without mercy, causing dizziness and nausea as if their stomachs were churning violently. Every breath was filled with suffocating foulness, and everything before them seemed to cast a silent curse upon them.
"Ah..." An elderly official looked around in terror, trying to push himself off the ground only to find it slick and sticky beneath him, his hands smeared with blood. Just as he opened his mouth to cry for help, he was horrified to see a student staring at him with bloodshot eyes filled with madness. The student's face was smeared with blood; his gaze was frenzied, and a cruel smile curled at the corners of his mouth as if he had already marked him as his next prey.
"No..." The official instinctively tried to retreat; however, the student's movements were lightning-fast. As soon as he shifted his foot back, he felt a sharp pain at his temple—the student had kicked him in the head like a wild beast. His head snapped sideways; everything blurred before him while a ringing filled his ears with sharp buzzing sounds. Everything around him seemed to shatter violently; the bloody scene became hazy and distorted as his body trembled uncontrollably.
"Stop... please..." The official mumbled incoherently in a low plea; however, all he saw on the student's face was a maniacal grin. The student lunged at him, fists raining down like a torrential storm—each punch fueled by uncontrollable rage and brutal strength. His fists struck the official's face, neck, and chest repeatedly, shattering bones with every blow. The sound of cracking bones echoed through the night like a terrifying symphony.
With each punch landed, blood erupted from the official's mouth splattering onto the student's face; this scene of violence and madness seemed to bring some twisted satisfaction. The student's eyes sparkled with an unusual joy as if he were immersed in a frenzied celebration. The sound of fists hitting flesh and bones breaking created a horrific melody in the stillness of night.
Meanwhile, another young official attempted to rise from the ground; his hands were covered in blood, fingers trembling uncontrollably as if unable to comprehend the horrifying scene around him. In his panic, he stepped on a slippery piece of intestine; losing balance, he fell heavily back to the ground. Just as he gasped for breath trying to steady himself, what lay before him froze him instantly.
His face was inches away from a corpse—a young student who had died a gruesome death; its eyes bulged wide open in terror while its features twisted grotesquely. Its mouth hung slightly ajar as if it had been silently screaming just before death. Fresh blood still clung to its lips and around its eyes; its expression was rigid and horrifying—a mask of death that could never find peace. Those hollow eyes seemed to stare directly into the official's soul, sending an unbearable chill down his spine as if an invisible hand were tightly gripping his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.
"No, no..." The official let out a desperate whimper from his throat, desperately trying to push himself away from the ground, but he slipped on the blood and remains, falling to the floor. He felt movement beside him and turned to see several blood-soaked students closing in on him, their eyes glinting with a bloodthirsty desire and frenzied excitement, as if they were about to engage in a new bloody game. Their footsteps were slow and heavy, hands stained with blood, the blades they wielded gleaming coldly in the dim light, ready to tear him apart at any moment.
The official's mouth gaped open in terror, his eyes wide with fear as he watched the advancing students. His heart was filled with helpless despair. He tried to move, but his limbs felt numb and weak from fear; a faint plea escaped his throat, trembling and barely audible. The students wore excited smiles, their eyes filled with a mad craving, as if they awaited a fate that was nothing less than a cruel feast. His body stiffened, cold sweat soaking him through, his heart overwhelmed by an inescapable dread, his very soul devoured by the hellish scene before him.
The young official curled helplessly on the ground, his hands and feet trembling from terror. He attempted to retreat, but no matter how hard he struggled, it felt as though he were being swallowed by a chilling swamp, unable to escape. The five or six students before him slowly closed in, their eyes bloodshot, their expressions grotesquely twisted. Their bodies twitched as if poisoned, lips quivering incessantly; their gazes were hollow and insane, as if they had completely lost their sanity. Their movements were unnatural, driven by some malevolent force that craved the only living being before them; their eyes burned with a bloodlust that suggested his blood was their only salvation.
The official looked down in horror, pressing his hands against the ground in a futile attempt to back away when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his arms. He glanced down sharply to find two cold hands gripping his wrists tightly, like iron nails pinning him to the ground. These hands belonged to two students lying in pools of blood; their bodies were battered and bruised, their eyes dimmed. Yet at that moment, those bloodshot eyes were fixed intently on him, radiating endless resentment and malice as if they intended to drag his soul into the depths of darkness.
"No... let me go... please..." The official's voice trembled with fear; however, the gazes of the two students remained cold and eerie. Their lips curled into a strange smile. They silently mouthed a chilling message—"Death is the best gift for the weak."
This phrase echoed like a whisper from death itself, piercing deep into the official's soul. His wrists were locked tight; his hands could not move, and his feet felt nailed to the ground. A chilling dread enveloped him; sweat trickled down his forehead as fear rapidly swelled within him, nearly suffocating him. The two injured students seemed to transform into some bizarre vengeful spirits that bound him firmly in place, preventing any escape from this deathly hellscape.
The other students watched this scene unfold with increasingly twisted smiles on their faces; their eyes brimmed with bloodthirsty desire and fervor. They emitted low growls like a pack of starving beasts as they began to pounce on him. At that moment, despair reached its peak for the official; his eyes widened in horror, mouth agape as he let out a silent scream—his throat had dried up from fear, leaving him unable to utter any cries for help.
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