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墨書 Inktalez
Mocus stumbled toward the massive stone table, as if being drawn by an invisible force. His body trembled, his face pale as paper, and his breath became erratic and rapid. Leaning against the stone table, he shakily traced the ancient runes with his trembling hands, seemingly trying to extract some kind of revelation from them. Suddenly, he collapsed onto the table, laughing maniacally, his voice echoing in the cave with a chilling tremor.
"Do you know? They were all here! Right here! Right here!" Mocus's voice rose high, as if caught in some mysterious frenzy; his words were illogical, muttering incoherently. His gaze turned vacant and frenzied, spitting out a series of nonsensical phrases: "They knelt and prayed... for that blood! Those sacrifices! Their souls were devoured! Hahaha... do you know? They died here, becoming his servants!"
The others stood frozen, watching Mocus's bizarre behavior in terror. Isabella furrowed her brow deeply, her face filled with confusion and unease. Jonas squinted, quietly observing Mocus, his inner doubts growing deeper.
Two mercenaries stood nearby, their faces pale and covered in goosebumps. They exchanged glances, both sensing the unease and fear between them. Slowly raising their weapons, their fingers tightened on the triggers as sweat dripped from their foreheads and their breaths quickened.
"This guy has gone mad..." one of the mercenaries muttered under his breath, his tone laced with intense fear and disgust. The gun's muzzle slightly elevated, aimed at the collapsed Mocus, ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
"We can't go on like this; he's going to get us killed!" the other mercenary complained anxiously in a low voice, his finger trembling on the trigger as if about to fire.
Mocus continued to ramble wildly on the stone table, his eyes unfocused as if controlled by some evil force. His voice fluctuated between whispers and sharp cries, as if conversing with an unseen presence. His hands scratched restlessly across the table, as if trying to unearth the secrets of the runes; his body shook continuously, trapped in an inescapable nightmare.
Raymond and Jonas exchanged worried glances; anxiety flickered across their faces. They knew the situation had become extraordinarily dangerous; Mocus was no longer the rational scholar they once knew but had transformed into a being teetering on the edge of madness. The tension within the group was like a taut string that could snap at any moment, and Mocus's insanity was the force that threatened to break it.
In this darkness, Mocus's madness grew even more bizarre; the air seemed to solidify while shadows crept closer. His gaze was hollow, lost in an indescribable frenzy as he whispered incomprehensible incantations. His hands began to tremble before suddenly lunging toward his mouth as if he had lost all reason.
"Mocus! Stop!" Jonas realized something was wrong and hurriedly tried to intervene. But it was too late; Mocus had already shoved his hand into his mouth, biting down hard on his palm.
"Splurt—" Blood gushed from the wound, thick and crimson, dripping through his fingers and staining the edges of the stone table. The scarlet liquid seemed to emit an unsettling glow in the darkness, creating a disquieting atmosphere.
"Mocus!" Isabella, stunned by the scene before her, rushed over and grabbed Mocus's shoulders, pulling him forcefully away from the table. Her voice was filled with urgency and fear: "What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"
Mocus wore a strange smile on his face, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. His gaze remained dazed, as if he were trapped in an inescapable illusion. His voice was low and hoarse, "Blood... he needs blood to awaken..."
Isabella's heart raced, a wave of intense fear exploding in her chest. She shook Mocus vigorously, trying to bring him back to his senses, but a drop of blood had already begun to slide along the drainage groove beside the stone table, slowly making its way to the ground.
"Oh no!" Jonas's pupils dilated as he saw that drop of blood flowing in the drainage channel, like a red signal that instantly triggered something unknown within him.
The air grew heavier, and the surrounding darkness seemed to stir. The strange runes on the walls emitted a faint glow, as if resonating with some ancient power. An indescribable sense of oppression gradually spread throughout the cave, as if something was awakening.
Raymond watched the drop of blood slide down the drainage groove of the stone table, an ominous premonition flooding over him. He instinctively tried to flick away the cigarette in his hand, but just as it was about to fall, a sudden wave of dizziness hit him, making the world spin. The surroundings seemed distorted, and the encroaching darkness felt alive as it closed in on him. Raymond fought against the dizziness, struggling to steady himself, but the pressure in his chest made him feel suffocated.
At that moment, he suddenly felt an odd itch spreading across his skin. Initially just a subtle prickling on his arm, it felt like a mosquito bite—annoying but not painful. However, that itch quickly escalated, growing stronger and more intense. The sensation crawled from his arm up to his shoulder and back, eventually spreading throughout his entire body, as if countless invisible things were writhing beneath his skin, burrowing into his flesh.
"What the hell...?" Raymond frowned, panic surging through him. He quickly lowered his head and glanced at his exposed hands, trying to confirm whether any foreign objects had invaded. To his astonishment, there was nothing on his hands. His skin appeared normal—smooth and unblemished—showing no signs of anything unusual.
"Something's wrong..." Raymond gasped for breath, his heart racing. He rubbed his arms vigorously in an attempt to force out the piercing itch, but instead of fading away, it intensified as if those things were writhing deep inside him, crawling through his nerves and veins like some unseen parasite.
His vision began to blur at the edges; the voices of Jonas and Isabella became muffled and distant, shrouded in a thick black fog. Raymond's breathing quickened; he pressed his hand against his forehead in an effort to calm himself down, but the itch was too vivid for him to ignore.
"No, it can't be..." Raymond began to mutter to himself, his lips trembling. He was engulfed by an unprecedented fear because he could not explain this strange sensation. No matter how he looked at it, there were no changes to his skin; however, that discomfort beneath the surface only grew stronger, nearly driving him to madness.
Instinctively stepping back a few paces until he leaned against the cold cave wall seemed like it might stabilize his fraying nerves. Raymond involuntarily pressed his palm against his chest, feeling his heart pounding like a drum against his ribcage as if it wanted to burst forth.
"Damn it, what is this?" Raymond murmured under his breath, feeling a tingling sensation on his scalp. He forced himself to take deep breaths, but that crawling sensation beneath his skin remained strong—as if a swarm of invisible creatures were climbing and multiplying within him, invading every corner of his being.
He lifted his head, trying to seek out his companions with his gaze, but as his eyes scanned the surroundings, he felt the world around him becoming increasingly distorted. The shadows on the walls resembled countless pairs of eyes, silently watching him from the darkness. At that moment, Raymond suddenly heard a faint sound of laughter near his ear—an eerie, distant sound that was clear enough to send a shiver down his spine.
"Damn it..." Raymond looked down at his hands again. This time, he felt the pores on his palms slightly open, as if waiting for something to crawl out from within. His fear escalated, sweat trickling down his forehead, but that inexplicable itch seemed alive, mercilessly gnawing at his sanity.
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