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墨書 Inktalez
Amidst the sharp shrieks of the masks, chaos erupted at the altar. When the SWAT team burst in, I saw Yamamoto and Zhang Shou frantically trying to remove their masks, but those bronze masks seemed to be fused with their skin, utterly impossible to take off.
"Do you even know what you've done?" Zhang Shou screamed at Zhou Jing, his voice twisted with pain. "The blood will backfire."
Zhou Jing weakly replied, "I've studied your experimental records. If the sequence of the masks is wrong, the blood will flow backward and inject itself into the user. And you like to use that kind of drug—"
"Shut up!" Yamamoto shouted in Japanese. "Activate the emergency protocol!"
But it was already too late. The storage tank erupted with a deafening roar, and the blood inside surged through the tubes towards those wearing masks. I watched as their skin began to redden and rot; some had already collapsed on the ground, convulsing.
The SWAT team seized the opportunity to rescue us. As the restraints were released, I immediately rushed towards Zhou Jing. "Did you plan this all along?"
She nodded, gesturing for me to look at the patterns on the altar. "These aren't ancient alchemical arrays; they're part of a massive blood circulation system. They modified the blood with drugs to induce some kind of mutation under moonlight. But they never anticipated that the blood would turn against them. He’s awake now; this is true retribution."
"No!" Zhang Shou suddenly let out a piercing scream. We saw black liquid seeping from beneath his mask—blood contaminated by drugs.
"Professor Yamamoto!" he pleaded in Japanese. "Save me!"
But Yamamoto could no longer speak. He staggered back towards the altar, attempting to shut down the system but was knocked down by the sudden influx of blood. Before he fell, a crack appeared in his mask, revealing a face that was nearly rotting.
"So this is your version of immortality?" Zhou Jing scoffed. "Sustaining life through drugs and other people's blood?"
"You," Yamamoto said with his last ounce of strength, "are as foolish as your sister. You could have—"
His words trailed off as he slumped down like a lifeless corpse. The others wearing masks fell one by one, some barely recognizable as human.
"It's over," he said.
But just then, Zhang Shou suddenly leaped up from the ground, wielding a scalpel that he had somehow acquired: "If that's the case, then let’s all die together!"
He charged at us madly. In the moonlight, his mask had completely melded into his flesh, making him appear like a monstrous fiend.
"Die! Die! Die!" he screamed incessantly. "This is all your fault! The organization has waited so long—"
Just as his knife was about to stab Zhou Jing, a gunshot rang out within the altar.
Zhang Shou froze mid-motion. He looked down at the hole in his chest and then slowly turned around to see Doctor Zhao standing at the entrance with a gun in hand.
"This is for my daughter," she said, "and for all the children you've harmed."
Zhang Shou swayed unsteadily as cracks spread across his mask. In that moment before he fell, it shattered completely, revealing his true face—one that looked almost identical to Yamamoto Ichiro from the photograph.
He gasped in surprise.
He is the son of Yamamoto Ichiro, who has been instilled with those crazy ideals since childhood. He inherited his parent's experiments, constantly trying to fulfill the dream of immortality.
At this moment, the SWAT team had already taken control of the entire scene. Jiang Zhendong walked in and surveyed the chaos around him: it was finally over.
I helped Zhou Jing to her feet. "Are you okay?"
She smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Finally, I can avenge my sister."
The moonlight continued to pour through the dome, but the bronze masks had lost their luster, resembling grotesque skeletons silently witnessing the end of this madness.
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