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墨書 Inktalez
The principal's body was being relentlessly pulled by an invisible force, his limbs uncontrollably stretching to their limits, bones and muscles torn to the extreme. Pain rolled through him like molten lava. Every nerve screamed in agony, and a powerful sense of pressure filled his chest, almost tearing him apart. Yet, this evil force continued to pull at him mercilessly, as if it aimed to strip his very soul away.
"Ahhh—!" The principal let out a heart-wrenching scream, his voice hoarse and filled with despair, like the cries of someone falling into hell. Suddenly, his right hand made a sharp cracking sound as the joint in his shoulder was completely torn apart, his arm hanging limply like a useless rag. The momentary pain blinded him, and his entire body felt as if it were being scorched by flames; all consciousness seemed to be devoured by a raging fire, leaving him almost devoid of sensation.
However, this was only the beginning. As his right hand was severed, the evil force cruelly concentrated on his left foot, unhesitatingly applying more strength. The bone in the principal's left leg was violently ripped apart, and the intense pain sent his mind into chaos, causing his body to convulse involuntarily from the unbearable suffering. Next, his right foot and left hand were also torn apart in succession; each sound of joints breaking echoed like a death knell. The principal's limbs were utterly destroyed, and his body lost all strength to support itself. Blood seeped from the broken limbs, forming tiny droplets that splattered in the air with every movement.
Suspended in mid-air, the principal hung limply like a broken puppet nailed to nothingness. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, filled with a weak and painful moan that emerged from his throat—a sound laced with helplessness and madness. His consciousness was gradually eroded by endless pain and despair; it felt as though only the sensation of being torn apart remained in his mind. His soul seemed to be drawn into an abyss of darkness with no bottom, unable to escape or cease.
On the ground, Emma knelt with her hands raised high, her face twisted with madness as she gazed at this bloody and brutal scene. Her eyes were filled with fervor and devotion; her lips trembled slightly as she murmured softly, as if performing an ancient ritual of praise. She was entranced by the spectacle before her, seemingly reaching a state of spiritual ecstasy. Behind her, the cultists knelt down one after another, their eyes hollow and frenzied as they continuously whispered James's name—like a group of lost followers in darkness who viewed the principal's suffering as a sacred symbol.
Some students cradled their faces in morbid delight while others raised their hands toward the blood-red moon, murmuring praises for James with expressions of strange satisfaction and fervor. They were completely captivated by this scene; it seemed that the principal's agony had transformed from an act of violence into a holy sacrifice—born for the blood moon and offered as a gift to James's power.
James coldly observed the principal's contorted body, his eyes filled with endless pleasure and satisfaction. Seeing the principal struggle in pain brought a cruel smile to his lips; his gaze was devoid of mercy, as if he were admiring a perfect work of art. He lifted his head and scanned over the kneeling followers before him; raising both arms, he laughed maniacally toward the sky. His voice carried arrogance and pride as if this bloody victory had elevated him to an unparalleled pinnacle of power.
"Look! This is what happens when you challenge me!" James's voice thundered across the playground with utmost arrogance and cruelty. "I am your only salvation, your only god!" His tone was deep and oppressive, as if declaring his supreme dominion over the world.
Suspended in mid-air, the principal's limbs had been utterly twisted and shattered; his gaze was vacant and hollow as he let pain tear through his body without any strength left to struggle. His lips trembled slightly; no sound escaped from his throat anymore. His breathing became sporadic—as if his soul had been ruthlessly extracted—leaving behind nothing but a broken shell.
At that moment, the blood-red moonlight suddenly thickened; its glow poured down upon the principal's shattered body. The entire playground was enveloped in this strange dark red light, filling even the air with a heavy scent of blood. The principal’s body trembled slightly under the moonlight as muscles and skin began to disintegrate piece by piece; flesh decomposed at an eerie speed from his fingertips onward. As red light scattered around him like dust being devoured away, he felt himself turning into nothingness inch by inch.
The principal’s expression became completely rigid; his eyes opened slightly as if still wishing to struggle. However, that evil force had completely bound him—he could not save himself or escape from fate’s design. A faint breath escaped from his throat but he could no longer produce any sound—no protests or cries of despair—silently welcoming this total destruction.
Under the moonlight’s illumination, his limbs gradually shattered into fragments; the last traces of flesh turned to dust carried away by the wind until only a few broken bones remained—glistening faintly under the moonlight—falling onto the slick ground with a crisp and cold sound. Silence enveloped everything around them instantly; only those scattered bones lay on the ground like symbols of what remained of his existence.
At that moment, a deep, sinister laughter echoed from the depths of the earth, the sound carrying a distant resonance as if it emerged from an endless abyss of darkness. It was the cackling of some unknown ancient entity, reveling in the satisfaction of witnessing this sacrifice. The laughter was low and chilling, imbued with an indescribable delight, seemingly immensely pleased with the offering, bestowing a final judgment upon this cruel death.
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