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墨書 Inktalez
Taktron In the dark corner of the prison cell, he used his thin nails to scratch the cold wall, each mark a record of the passing time. He left a new mark on the wall, roughly counting - it had been three days. When he first entered this cramped space, Taktron was filled with an unyielding self-confidence, believing he could easily handle this period of confinement. His heart was full of hope and firm conviction for the future.
However, when he woke up on the second day and faced the familiar wall again, that initial confidence began to be slowly eroded by the weight and monotony of reality. Every time he opened his eyes, it was the same scene, the same darkness, the same silence. This repetitive monotony began to make him feel an unprecedented sense of powerlessness. The air seemed to be filled with a breath of despair, quietly eroding his will.
On the third day, Taktron was completely surrounded by a sense of powerlessness. Every time he made a mark, it was no longer an expectation of freedom, but a helpless recognition of his predicament. This cold and icy wall had become his only connection to the outside world, yet this connection was so fragile and powerless. Life in prison was much more difficult than he had imagined, not only in terms of physical torture, but also in terms of mental anguish. Taktron began to realize that even as an experienced and skilled warrior, it was difficult to maintain his initial determination and confidence in such an environment.
In the adjacent cell, Alixia was particularly intense. In addition to pounding the walls, she continued to pound them as if venting her endless anger. Each impact seemed to prove her presence and resistance in this dark space. On the other side, John had been relatively silent since being locked up, forming a sharp contrast with Alixia's anger.
Taktron began to feel a hint of fear in his own cell. How much longer would these days continue? If only they knew an exact period of confinement, they could at least hold onto a glimmer of hope. But they had been thrown into this prison arbitrarily, with no clear release date, making the days of waiting for freedom seem so distant and insignificant. This uncertainty not only deepened his worries about the future, but also made this dark space even more oppressive and despairing.
Taktron couldn't help but ponder what their fate would be. In this isolated and unsupported environment, time seemed to lose its meaning, with each day repeating endless waiting and silence. He thought about the neighbor Alixia, and the silent John, each facing this trial in their own way. For Taktron, the only thing to do was to find the courage and hope to survive in this silence, even though that hope seemed so fragile and out of reach.
Just as Taktron was immersed in contemplation and self-doubt about the future, an unusual sound suddenly emanated from the bottom of the prison corridor, interrupting his thoughts. It began with the mechanical operation of a freight elevator, followed almost immediately by a series of uniform, heavy footsteps rapidly spreading through the corridor. These sounds carried an undeniable sense of authority and tension, instantly filling the previously silent prison with an unusual sense of urgency.
Taktron felt a hint of surprise, as such commotion was unprecedented since his imprisonment. Involuntarily, a glimmer of hope arose in his heart—could this be his chance for freedom? In this isolated and helpless prison, any slight change was enough to capture the intense attention and endless speculation of the inmates. Taktron attempted to sneak a peek through the small window of his cell, hoping to capture more information, but all he could see were the faint lights on the corridor and the long shadows they cast.
The sudden sound not only filled Taktron with a sense of unknown anticipation, but undoubtedly also provided him and the other prisoners with a space for speculation and imagination. Regardless of who the owner of these military boots was, and whatever their visit might signify, for Taktron and the other imprisoned team members, this could be a turning point, an opportunity to change their fate. At this critical moment, Taktron felt not only surprise but also a greater sense of anticipation and curiosity about what might happen in the future.
Jojo Vich's voice pierced the silence of the prison, carrying an inexplicable premonition, and rang out once again: "Deathwing... your good days are coming." His footsteps were firm, and with the orderly sound of the military boots, he walked step by step to the front of the four men's cells. The atmosphere inside the cells changed accordingly, and the four prisoners silently stood up, each wearing a different degree of vigilance and curiosity on their faces.
John walked up to the railing, his gaze fixed on Jojo Vich, as if trying to find answers from his expression and words. After a moment of contemplation, John spoke, "Let me guess... Governor wants us to do something dangerous... right?" His tone carried a hint of sarcasm, revealing both anticipation and unease about the impending mission.
Facing John's direct question, Jojo Vich remained composed, but a hint of complexity flashed in his eyes. John's intuition was correct; Governor Marcus did indeed have a plan for them to carry out a special and dangerous mission. This mission not only concerned their own life and death, but also the future of the entire Yakhanix star.
In this tense and uncertain atmosphere, John and his teammates are waiting for Jojo Vich's next words, which will be the judgment of their fate and possibly the only way to freedom. At this moment, each of them is filled with contradictions and struggles, both anticipating and fearing the upcoming challenge.
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