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墨書 Inktalez
Isabella gasped for breath, struggling to lift her feet as the passage ahead grew narrower, as if a red abyss was swallowing her whole. The dim glow of the dark red emergency lights cast a feeble light in the gloom, and the surrounding air became thick and oppressive, pushing her toward the depths of despair. Her vision blurred, uncertain if she had seen something. Suddenly, rotting hands emerged from the walls and floor, as if the souls of the dead had finally awakened to demand something from her.
She forcefully shook off a cold finger that had wrapped around her wrist, whispers and lamentations filling her ears, like the spirits recounting their restless pain. Each hand seemed heavy with emotion, dragging her into the endless darkness. Isabella's steps faltered, her heart filled with despair. Familiar figures flashed before her eyes, causing her to hesitate.
"Isabella..." Her father's aged voice came from beside her, as if rising from the abyss. His figure flickered in and out of view, his eyes filled with expectation and helplessness. "You have come too far; come back now, don’t continue..."
"You have done enough, my child." Her mother's voice slowly resonated, gentle yet powerless. "Do not bear this pain any longer; stop, just stop..."
Isabella's fingers trembled slightly, as if her soul was being pulled back to the past by those hands. She struggled to shake them off but felt increasingly powerless. She saw the stern face of her professor at the end of the passage, as if he too was waiting for her. "Your wisdom should be used for creation, not destruction..." His words were cold and piercing, an accusation of betrayal and self-destruction.
Then she saw the faces of scientists and colleagues who had once helped her; their expressions emerged one by one, countless voices overlapping: "Isabella, your research is meant to save humanity; why are you doing this? You will destroy everything!"
Those familiar voices and faces surrounded her, recounting her mistakes and madness. Her steps grew heavier; each advance felt like carrying an immense burden. These voices and hands urged her to stop, to give up.
"I can't..." she whispered softly, her voice nearly drowned out.
But those voices persisted relentlessly, growing clearer and more piercing, slicing through her eardrums like a blade. "Stop! If you continue down this path, you will only bring about your own demise!" "You shouldn't be this way! This isn't you!" "Come back; there is still time!"
"No!" Isabella gritted her teeth, gripping the wall beside her tightly in an attempt to hold herself back from being pulled away. Her heart raced wildly; it felt as though an iron clamp was suffocating her chest. Yet she knew that these hands and voices—no matter how real they seemed—were illusions crafted by the Black Worm playing with her mind.
"I will move forward..." She violently shook off the hand that clung to her arm; nails dug into her skin, sending a jolt of pain that slightly revived her willpower. "This is not your decision! This is my decision!"
Breathing heavily, she lifted her head and forcefully broke free from those hands' grasp, pushing away those phantoms. Even though her body was nearly numb from pain, the will deep within her soul remained unyielding. The hands trying to make her stop multiplied—her father’s face, mother’s face, professor’s face, friends’ faces all floated in her mind—but they could no longer halt her progress.
"I have never stopped moving forward!" Isabella let out a hoarse shout, her voice laced with anger and pain. "I didn't come this far for all of this. You... will not stop me!"
This time, the phantom hands suddenly lost their power, as if shattered by her determination. The whispers grew fainter and more distant, eventually vanishing completely from her mind. The darkness in the corridor remained boundless, and the pain still accompanied her every step, but she knew she would no longer be shackled by these illusions.
Isabella's body suddenly lost its balance and fell heavily onto the cold ground. She gasped for breath, feeling as if all her strength had been instantly drained away, as if the energy she had just used to resist those phantoms and the pain had been completely exhausted. She lay on the ground, her body feeling like an empty shell, barely holding onto consciousness with the last shred of willpower.
Her fingers trembled as they pressed against the ground, feeling the cold metal beneath her. Her vision gradually blurred, as if everything around her had become unreal. She tried to lift her head to look towards the Boiler Room not far away; that door in the darkness seemed like an unreachable destination, but she knew it was all she could do and her last chance.
"No... I can't stop..." she murmured weakly, her voice barely audible.
Her hands gripped the ground tightly as she struggled to move herself forward, crawling step by step like a newborn baby. Each movement felt like a blade slicing through her body; the pain had spread to every inch of her skin and nerves, and every push of her limbs was accompanied by intense agony.
With each step, she felt as if she were on the verge of collapse; the left side of her body was gradually becoming numb, as if it no longer belonged to her. Her arms had started to feel heavy, as if bound; each movement forward became increasingly difficult. She could even feel that the muscles and bones in her left arm no longer responded to her will, slipping out of control.
"No..." she whispered, almost pleading for help, but she knew there was no one here to assist her.
The emergency lights in the cabin remained dim, casting a dark red glow on her sweat-soaked and dirt-streaked face. Isabella's breathing grew rapid; each inhalation came with immense pain, as if her lungs could no longer bear it. Her cheek pressed against the cold ground, and before her was the door leading to the Boiler Room—so close yet feeling like an unattainable shore.
She tried to reach out for something, her fingertips brushing against the edge of the door, but her body had stiffened and could not move. Her left arm had completely lost sensation and could no longer exert force, while her right hand began to tremble as if it might give up at any moment.
"Is this... it?" A flicker of despair rose within Isabella.
Her eyelids felt so heavy that she could barely open them; darkness seemed ready to swallow her whole. The Black Worm within her writhed through her numbed nerves, mocking her helplessness and impending death with its many mouths. She gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the spreading despair but felt her strength rapidly slipping away.
"No... I can't stop yet..." Her voice was hoarse, almost reduced to a whisper, yet even so, she refused to give up.
Her vision blurred as tears silently slipped from the corners of her eyes. Struggling to move her right hand, her last vestige of will seemed to be her only support. Finally, after countless moments of pain and torment, her hand touched the doorframe of the Boiler Room.
"Finally..." Isabella's consciousness began to fade, but she knew she had arrived.
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