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Ethan stared in terror at the eerie Wooden Mask, his fear reaching a peak. His heart raced, but the pressure around his neck made it hard to breathe. His limbs grew weak, and his struggles became increasingly feeble. Just in that moment of despair, another kind of pain began to assault him—heavy fists relentlessly pounded against his face and body.
"Bang! Bang!" The fists struck with immense force, landing again and again. Ethan's face began to swell and distort rapidly, blood gushing from the torn skin, blurring his vision. Each punch felt like a hammer, shattering his features piece by piece, the sound of breaking bones echoing in his ears, pain beyond measure. Yet, after reaching a certain limit, this intense agony turned numb—he could no longer feel specific pain, as it had far exceeded his capacity to endure.
His vision grew increasingly blurry, the scene before him fading into a haze. He couldn't even tell if he was still looking at this world; the only thing he could perceive was an endless fear. Blood flowed down his cheeks, mingling with sweat, as if his entire face had shattered beyond repair.
In his gradually fading sight, Ethan was horrified to see the Wooden Mask inching closer. It wasn't moving on its own; it seemed as if some invisible force was pulling it toward him, slowly pressing against his face. The smooth wooden surface glimmered with a strange sheen, and the upward-curving grin silently emerged from the darkness, mocking Ethan's helplessness.
Ethan's eyes widened in terror, yet he could no longer make a sound. Each breath felt like it drained his last ounce of strength; his body was battered into numbness, leaving only the approaching mask that consumed all his attention.
The mask drew nearer until it finally rested gently against Ethan's face. In that moment, he felt that when his skin touched the Wooden Mask, it wasn't cold wood but rather a slippery sensation akin to something alive. As the mask covered his face, Ethan felt an indescribable pressure surging from all around him, as if some force was merging with his flesh and blood.
The Wooden Mask began to warm up; it seemed to possess a life of its own as it slowly integrated into Ethan's face. He sensed that his skin and flesh were undergoing a terrifying union with this bizarre mask. The mask's texture appeared to glide across his skin, gradually consuming his shattered visage and binding him completely to it.
Ethan's breathing weakened; his consciousness faded away. The eerie smile became clearer, seemingly no longer just an engraving on the mask but rather reflecting his own expression—his own face was being replaced by this cursed mask.
"No... don't..." Ethan screamed in despair within himself, but his body could no longer resist. The mask pressed tightly against his face until it completely fused with his flesh and blood, as if it had never left; as if Ethan's soul was being gradually devoured by this strange entity.
When the Wooden Mask fully merged with Ethan's face, a chilling sensation surged from deep within his skin, as if his entire face had frozen solid. He tried to feel his facial features but was horrified to discover that all sensation had vanished—he could no longer feel the touch of skin or the movement of muscles; even pain no longer existed. His face seemed no longer to belong to him.
"This can't be happening..." Ethan whispered in despair, trembling hands reaching for his face in an attempt to touch the now unfamiliar skin. However, when his fingers made contact with what used to be his face, they felt cold and rigid as if he were no longer a living being but rather a carved puppet. His skin had hardened and lost all elasticity like dead wood, devoid of life and warmth.
"No—this isn't real!" Ethan screamed madly, his voice tearing through his throat filled with despair and fear. His hands frantically clawed at his face in an attempt to tear away the strange wooden mask, but everywhere his fingers grazed was cold and hard wood without a trace of flesh.
"This is impossible! This is not me! This is not real!" His shout echoed in the darkness, with endless fear and out-of-control madness in his voice. His whole body was shaking, and his heart was beating like a drum, as if he was being slowly swallowed by some inescapable curse. As Ethan screamed in despair, he suddenly opened his eyes. Everything around him became strangely familiar - broken mirrors appeared around him again, like cold walls, surrounding him in the center. Every mirror was full of cracks, reflecting countless reflections, trapping him in this strange world. He looked around subconsciously, and the figure that had just suppressed him had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed. But what frightened him the most was the reflection in those mirrors - in every mirror, what was reflected was not his original face, but the terrifying Wooden Mask face. In the mirror, his face was stiff, and the corners of his mouth were raised, revealing a weird smile, as if he was mocking him silently. The mask seemed to have completely taken over his face. Every reflection of Ethan was that cold, lifeless wooden mask, with uncontrollable madness and distortion. "This is not me! This is not real!" Ethan screamed again, his voice becoming more and more crazy, his eyes filled with despair and confusion. He tried to hit the mirrors with his hands, but with each punch, the mirrors only shook slightly, the cracks remained, and the reflections remained the same. Those countless masks with cunning smiles looked back at him from the mirror, as if they wanted to completely destroy him from the inside. "Ethan" is grinning in every reflection, and countless masks are reflected in the broken mirror, with some indescribable weirdness. Ethan feels like he is being drowned by these reflections, as if these "selves" wearing masks are replacing his existence and devouring his true self. "This is all fake! This is not me!" Ethan yelled desperately, the fear in his heart completely drowning him like a tide. He looked at those countless selves wearing Wooden Mask and felt that he was losing himself step by step and falling into endless madness and darkness. Ethan clawed at his face frantically, his nails digging into the wooden skin, and his knuckles turning white from excessive force. He pinched and clawed frantically with his nails, trying to pull the weird mask off his face. But no matter how hard he tried or howled, his nails had no effect at all on the cold, dry wooden surface, and couldn't even leave a scratch. "This is not true... this is impossible!" Ethan's voice was hoarse and trembling with despair. His nails had begun to break and blood seeped out from between his fingers, but the Wooden Mask was still close to him. His face blended into his skin like some kind of curse. His nails tore at the wood, his fingertips bleeding from the exertion, but the mask remained unscathed. The cold wood seemed to have a life of its own, mocking his struggle mercilessly. The more he resisted, the tighter the mask stuck to his face. "Hahahaha..." A deep laughter came from the mask, the sound was strange and gloomy, as if it came from the depths of hell. That laughter carried a kind of irrepressible arrogance and mockery, as if it was mocking Ethan's powerlessness and madness, mocking the fate that he tried to resist but still couldn't escape in the end. "Get out of here! Get out of my body!" Ethan yelled crazily, his voice full of despair and fear. He grabbed his face frantically with his hands, so hard that his palms began to feel numb and blood flowed. The more he struggled, the louder the weird laughter became, like an invisible torture reverberating in his ears, tearing his sanity apart bit by bit.
"You can't escape, Ethan..." The laughter whispered, filled with coldness and mockery. "This is who you are... always will be." Each word was like a sharp blade, piercing deep into Ethan's soul, leaving him trapped in an endless darkness.
Ethan's eyes were bloodshot, his mind completely shattered, tears mingling with blood as they slid down his face. His nails were torn to shreds; he felt no pain in his hands because he had already plunged into madness. That eerie laughter echoed relentlessly in his mind, tormenting his soul like a curse, no matter how much he screamed or struggled.
"No—this isn't real! This can't be!" Ethan's voice grew hoarse, yet his resistance became increasingly feeble. His body began to tremble violently, the fear and despair within him crashing over him like a tidal wave. He knew he had lost himself—he could no longer escape from this cursed mask.
In the end, Ethan's spirit completely broke down, tears streaming down his face. His hands hung limply at his sides, his gaze becoming vacant, while the laughter from the mask continued to resonate low and crazed in his ears, as if pulling him into an inescapable abyss.
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