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墨書 Inktalez
Jonas's footsteps paused for a moment as the door of the spaceship slowly closed behind him. His hand instinctively rested on the intercom, a deep stirring in his heart that felt uncontrollable. He turned back once more, gazing at the vanishing Hatch. Isabella's face, marked by defiance and determination, appeared incredibly strong in the shadows. Jonas knew this was their final meeting; once this door shut, it would sever their fates completely.
With a heavy thud, the Hatch slammed shut, the echo resonating in the silent cavern like the tolling of a bell of destiny. Jonas's mind suddenly went blank, as if some immense force had drained him of all thoughts. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to pull his thoughts back, compelling himself not to dwell on Isabella's face. He had to fulfill the mission she left behind—to bring back all the data and expose the terrifying truth hidden in the depths of darkness.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, then pulled out the intercom. His fingertips trembled slightly on the buttons but quickly steadied. He pressed the call button urgently, his voice anxious and hurried:
"Raymond! Can you hear me? This is Jonas, respond!"
What greeted him was cold static, the harsh buzzing of interference lingering in the air. Jonas's unease began to intensify. He pressed the call button again, this time his voice more frantic, almost roaring:
"Raymond! Damn it, respond! How are Allison and Samuel?"
Still no reply from the intercom—only intermittent hissing and disjointed electronic sounds. Jonas furrowed his brow as an uncontrollable anxiety began to rise within him. He knew Raymond should have returned to the outpost long ago; theoretically, he should be able to respond to his call. Yet the current situation indicated that the signal was severely disrupted, making communication exceedingly difficult.
Reluctantly, he continued trying:
"Raymond! This is Jonas! What’s going on over there? Respond immediately if you hear me!"
Silence persisted, accompanied only by continuous static and radio interference. Jonas felt a profound sense of helplessness enveloping him, as if his thoughts were trapped in a dead end with no way out.
Carefully navigating the stone steps in the cave with one hand gripping his gun tightly, he felt surrounded by layers of thick darkness like a heavy fog. The oppressive atmosphere within the cave weighed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He knew time was running out. Even though he had escaped from the spaceship, he remained trapped in this hellish underground world.
He attempted to call out on the intercom once more; this time his voice was filled with urgency:
"Raymond! Answer me!"
Yet the only response was an endless static, this time punctuated by a brief silence, followed by an even louder hiss, as if the signal source in the distance had been completely severed. Jonas's heart raced; he sensed something was wrong, as if an invisible shadow was closing in.
He began to doubt whether Raymond and the soldiers stationed at the outpost were safe. What about Allison and Samuel? How were they faring? If something had happened to Raymond, they might have fallen into even deeper danger.
The image of Isabella's determined face flashed through his mind, along with the hard drive she had entrusted to him. Jonas looked down at the device that contained all the truth, and a surge of responsibility welled up inside him. He knew that no matter what happened at the outpost, he had to bring this data back; it was everything Isabella had sacrificed for the plan, and he couldn't let her sacrifice be in vain.
However, at the same time, the inability to contact Raymond filled him with unease. He understood that if something truly bad had occurred at the outpost, they might already be isolated and helpless. Alone in the dark corridor, anxiety and fear consumed him; the path ahead seemed increasingly unclear, and everything before him felt like an uncontrollable torrent of fate crashing down upon him.
Jonas stood at the cave entrance, gazing into the unfathomable darkness. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the walkie-talkie, silently vowing: no matter how dangerous the road ahead might be, he would carry this data and walk out alive.
He withdrew his gaze, took a deep breath, and turned back into that endless darkness, beginning his search for their only chance of survival.
Raymond stood in the center of the outpost, surrounded by a terrifying silence, broken only by his rapid breathing and heartbeat echoing in his ears. He looked down at his blood-soaked hands, thick blood dripping slowly between his fingers, staining the earth and stones below. The overwhelming stench of blood filled the air like an unshakeable haze, suffocating every inch of space.
His gaze slowly moved forward, landing on Allison lying on the ground. Her eyes were wide open, her lips still faintly trembling from her last breaths; yet with each passing second, her life force rapidly faded away. The clear marks around her neck resembled a curse that had completely stolen her life away. Raymond's hand remained rigidly gripping her throat, his knuckles white and wrist trembling slightly. He could hardly remember how he had come to strangle Allison; all he knew was that when he realized what he was doing, she was already collapsed at his feet.
The scene around him sent chills down Raymond's spine. Samuel's body lay not far away, mangled beyond recognition; he could still identify this former technician despite his disfigured form. Samuel's limbs were twisted as if torn apart; his chest cavity was nearly hollowed out, with scattered flesh and shattered bones strewn across the ground like a massacre site.
Not just Samuel—none of the other mercenaries in the outpost had escaped unscathed. The bodies of four mercenaries lay sprawled across the floor, riddled with bullet holes and broken bones as if Raymond himself had torn them apart with his bare hands. Their eyes were wide open in shock and terror as if they still held disbelief in their final moments—no one could comprehend that this comrade who once fought alongside them could turn into their executioner in an instant.
Raymond's breathing grew more frantic; he trembled uncontrollably, unable to believe what he had just done. He looked around; the sight of bodies scattered everywhere felt foreign and distorted—it was not a battlefield he once knew but a nightmare from hell. And the perpetrator of this nightmare was none other than himself.
He couldn't understand how all of this had happened. It had only been a few short minutes, so why had he lost control over his own body? Why did the blood on his hands feel so terrifying? He closed his eyes, as if trying to escape it all, but when he opened them again, the corpse still lay before him. No matter how much he tried to evade it, the bloody reality could not be changed.
"Did I... do this?" Raymond murmured, his voice hoarse and weak, as if he couldn't accept this cruel truth.
His hands remained clenched into fists, blood slipping through his fingers like some inescapable curse. Memories of fighting alongside Jonas flooded his mind—countless moments spent on the brink of life and death together—but now, he had become the mastermind behind this massacre. Raymond's heart shattered as he struggled to comprehend why he had lost control at this moment, as if something within his mind was manipulating him, forcing him to commit these heinous acts.
He tried to recall the details of what had just occurred, but his brain felt shrouded in a thick fog, hazy and elusive. Only that itch remained, coiling beneath his skin like a venomous snake, occasionally teasing his nerves and driving him into a frenzy of uncontrollable madness.
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