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Ethan's heart raced violently, a heavy pressure weighing down on his chest. As he stared in terror at Christopher's twitching body, an eerie laughter suddenly echoed around him. The laughter carried a chilling and deranged quality, seeming to come from all directions at once, leaving Ethan unable to discern its source. It resonated in his ears with a low, mocking cackle, like some malevolent spirit chuckling in the darkness, thick with derision and playfulness.
"No... this can't be happening..." Ethan muttered in fear, glancing warily around in search of the laughter's origin. But no matter how he turned, the sound seemed to emanate from an endless void, just out of reach.
The laughter grew increasingly frenzied, as if the entire space was filled with that bizarre sound. Ethan's heartbeat quickened further; he felt himself trapped in an uncontrollable nightmare, a chaotic whirlpool of reality and illusion. His gaze swept around desperately, but he saw nothing. Suddenly, the laughter ceased abruptly, leaving only a suffocating silence in the air.
In that moment, something changed. Christopher's battered body, already bloodied and mangled, suddenly jerked violently. His hands shot out like lightning, grasping directly at Ethan's waist. Before Ethan could react, he felt those cold, clammy hands gripping him tightly, bringing with them a nauseating wetness, as if some decaying creature was pressing against him.
"No!" Ethan screamed from deep within his throat as he looked down at the hands clutching his waist—blood and viscous fluid smeared across them, grotesque like a demon from hell.
He jerked his head up abruptly, and what he saw nearly shattered him. The one holding him was no longer Christopher—it was his own face! Ethan's own face!
That visage was no longer the familiar one he saw every day in the mirror; it had twisted into something monstrous and insane. The muscles contorted grotesquely, eyes bloodshot and filled with an indescribable madness and resentment. The corners of the mouth curled into an unnatural smile, resembling a sickly expression that bore no resemblance to humanity. That face pressed closely against him, its distorted features dripping with scorn.
"This can't be happening... this can't be..." Ethan gasped for breath as fear surged through him like a flood, washing away his sanity. His hands trembled as he tried to break free from the grip on his waist, but it felt as if all his strength had vanished in that instant; no matter how hard he struggled, that ghastly face remained pressed against him.
"Is this how you see yourself?" that face—his own—spoke with a low rasping voice laced with a chilling mockery, as if taunting all his struggles and pain. "Did you think you could escape?"
Ethan shook his head frantically; his fear reached its peak. This face that belonged to him now resembled a warped mirror reflecting the darkest corners of his soul. It was filled with rage, hatred, and madness—as if all his suffering and pressure had coalesced into this terrifying expression that pushed him toward the abyss.
"Get away! Get out of my body!" Ethan screamed wildly, his voice hoarse from fear as he flailed his arms desperately in an attempt to strike that face. But every punch felt like it landed on himself instead; there was no power to resist. He could only feel those hands tightening their grip as if they were going to tear him apart completely.
Ethan cried out in agony, his voice brimming with despair and anger as he swung his arms wildly trying to escape those clutches. However, unexpectedly, the "self" before him erupted with an unbelievable force.
"Self" suddenly kicked fiercely at Ethan's abdomen, the force astonishing, like a boulder crashing into him. Pain shot through Ethan's stomach, and he lost his balance, crashing heavily to the ground, his back hitting the surface with a dull thud. His eyes widened in terror as he stared at the scene before him, unable to believe he was facing such power.
Before Ethan could react, "Self" lunged at him, pinning him down with swift and brutal movements, like a hunting beast. Ethan tried to struggle, but the strength of "Self" was extraordinary. Hands quickly wrapped around Ethan's neck, squeezing tightly, fingers digging deep into his skin with such force that he couldn't breathe.
Ethan felt his neck constricted tightly, his breath becoming rapid and labored. Instinctively, his hands grasped the ones choking him, desperately trying to break free, but no matter how hard he struggled, his strength felt feeble and powerless. Those hands clamped down on his throat like iron pincers, nearly sealing off his airway completely.
"This... is impossible..." Confusion and pain flashed in Ethan's eyes. He looked at his own hands, yet they were desperately choking his neck; the contradictory sight sent him spiraling into a maddening chaos.
"Why... is it me?" His mind was filled with countless inexplicable feelings—pain, confusion, helplessness—all emotions intertwined, leaving him unable to comprehend it all. He saw his face looking down at him with an incredibly ferocious expression, those familiar eyes filled with resentment and madness.
However, amidst this terrifying suppression, Ethan suddenly noticed something strange. That familiar face began to dissolve bit by bit, as if corroded by some liquid. The skin twisted and blurred before cracking and peeling away. The face became increasingly indistinct as flesh and skin fell away layer by layer, revealing an unusual texture beneath—smooth and cold, devoid of any flesh.
Shock filled Ethan's gaze as he watched that face transform before him until it became a smooth wooden mask—a bizarre and expressionless mask. Carved upon it was a chilling smile, the corners of its mouth slightly raised with a sinister implication, as if an ancient curse was being fulfilled.
In that moment, a memory flashed through Ethan's mind—Christopher had once told him about an ancient mask that could manipulate people's wills and devour their souls. That mask was the source of all their fears and suffering.
"This... is it..." Ethan stared in horror at the Wooden Mask before him, feeling a bone-chilling despair wash over him. The mask grinned widely at him, silently mocking his impotence and struggles while still tightening its grip around Ethan's neck, gradually siphoning away his life force bit by bit.
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