Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The night was deep, and the wheels rolled over the asphalt, emitting a low hum. The buildings of the Financial District loomed in the distance, like a cold, indifferent beast silently overlooking the city.
Two vans arrived at the designated location, tires screeching as they came to a jarring stop. The engine fell silent, and the rear doors swung open. Armed thugs poured out of the vehicle like reapers descending from the night.
The security guard at the entrance barely had time to comprehend what was happening. The overhead lights still illuminated his slightly furrowed brow when bullets tore through the air—
Bang! Bang!
Two sharp gunshots rang out. The guard's body jerked back violently, blood blossoming on the pristine white marble floor like a bright red rose. His hand lingered near his ear, seemingly poised to press the intercom, but in the next moment, his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The operation had begun.
"Get inside!" a figure in black shouted, and the thugs sprang into action, rushing through the glass revolving door and storming into the Financial Building, guns aimed at every living target.
The lobby was brightly lit, its pure white marble floor immaculate. This was a high-end financial institution where well-dressed elites typically mingled to discuss numbers, trades, and power—never imagining that death would come without warning one day.
Screams erupted as people scrambled to their feet; some attempted to flee, but the pressure of the guns froze everyone in place.
"Get down! Everyone down!" Jack shouted frantically, sweeping his gun through the air. Everyone could see his finger on the trigger—trembling slightly yet filled with frenzied excitement.
No one dared to move, but there were always exceptions—
"Ahhh!" A woman in a black dress clutched her head and screamed in trembling terror. Her eyes were wide with fear as her body instinctively recoiled; her steps faltered, nearly causing her to collapse.
Bang!
The gunfire shattered all struggles. A bullet pierced straight through her skull, blood and brain matter exploding instantaneously, staining her face and shoulders. Her body shuddered briefly before collapsing like a marionette with severed strings, her head striking the marble floor with a dull thud.
The entire hall fell silent.
No one dared to make a sound.
The air was thick with the smell of blood, and only the distant ticking of an electronic clock in the office continued its steady rhythm, as if this massacre were merely a minor interruption in daily life.
Tommy stood amidst the chaos, his hands trembling around the gun, a buzzing in his ears. His mind had yet to process everything that had happened, but his body instinctively moved forward.
The revolution had begun; the flames had been ignited, and now he was at the center of this inferno.
Blood and silence intertwined, a sense of oppression hanging heavily in the air like iron.
On the floor lay a corpse, blood slowly seeping into the cracks of the marble, like an indelible mark of guilt. The civilians still alive were all huddled on the ground, hands over their heads, trembling in fear, too terrified to make a sound. The gun was still aimed at them, the black metal exuding an aura of death; any slight movement could result in another body falling.
“Hurry up, set up the bomb!” a demolitions expert hissed, as he and others swiftly began installing explosives, deftly twisting metal components to secure the position of the Aluminum Thermite Bomb. Their movements were quick and decisive; there was no hesitation—this was not their first time doing this, nor would it be their last.
The man in black stood at the center of the hall, quietly observing everything.
But tonight, he was not just a shadow behind the scenes; he chose to act alongside these Flames' Followers.
Wearing a bulletproof vest with firearms strapped to his waist and a gray mask obscuring his face, he appeared cold and ruthless, like a harbinger of death. The firelight cast shadows on his mask, making his expression even more inscrutable and difficult to behold.
He did not whisper but spoke loudly, his tone steady and powerful, ensuring that everyone could hear him clearly.
“Truth's Fire never extinguishes.” His voice echoed through the hall, cutting through the blood and fear in the air like an ancient sermon.
“Today, we stand here not to destroy but to rebuild.”
"The city is decaying; it should have burned long ago. Its Ruler hides in a tower, believing their power can remain unchallenged forever. But tonight, they will witness our resolve; they will see judgment descend upon them!"
He stepped forward, surveying the civilians cowering on the ground, unable to lift their heads. His voice was low yet filled with unwavering conviction. "Are you afraid? Are you trembling? Good, for that is our purpose."
"Fear is the moment when truth is born."
"We will cleanse this city with flames, allowing it to be reborn from the Ashes."
His voice suddenly softened, like a priest whispering a prayer. "I beseech the heavens to grant you Suffering."
"For Suffering is something you people have never tasted."
He slowly raised his hands, as if to embrace the world that was about to burn. In that moment, he resembled not a terrorist but rather a fervent Cleric, an Apostle proclaiming divine retribution.
The bomb was set, time ticking away; the heart of this city awaited its fiery baptism. And Tommy stood amidst it all, gun in hand, heart racing, yet his consciousness felt detached from his body, gazing down from afar at the impending catastrophe.
At the moment the bomb was completed, the space seemed to freeze.
The air grew heavy; everyone’s heartbeat seemed to slow. The Red Numbers on the Timer flickered ominously—only five minutes remained until detonation.
No one spoke; there were no unnecessary sounds—only exchanged glances before they silently began to retreat.
"Move," the figure in black commanded softly. Everyone acted swiftly, their steps steady and resolute. They were not fleeing in panic but withdrawing in an orderly fashion, as if completing a flawless operation, now merely awaiting the outcome.
However, just as they stepped through the door, the figure in black suddenly halted.
He pulled an Aluminum Thermite Bomb from behind him and without hesitation tossed it back inside—
"Hiss—!"
The metal reacted violently with the oxidizer, instantly generating temperatures exceeding two thousand degrees. The flames roared like a ferocious beast, wildly consuming the entrance of the hall.
Fire erupted in the darkness, racing up the walls at an astonishing speed, scorching everything flammable. The air became unbearably hot, as if they had been thrust into a furnace. The civilians inside only realized something was wrong when they let out terrified screams, only to find that the exit was blocked by raging flames, leaving them no way to escape.
They were trapped.
"Let them feel our flames," the figure in black murmured, his tone calm and absolute, as if stating an unbreakable law.
The others followed suit, throwing the Aluminum Thermite Bomb towards the adjacent building. Flames spread along the surface of the structure, igniting glass and steel, producing explosive sounds from the intense heat.
"Boom—! Crack—!"
Concrete shattered under extreme temperatures, windows evaporated in the heat, and twisted steel rebar writhed like struggling beasts in the heatwave.
The night was illuminated by fire; the Financial District had transformed into a burning hell.
And Tommy stood amidst the flames, gazing at everything before him, his ears filled with screams, explosions, and the sounds of collapsing buildings. His hand still gripped his gun, but his mind felt utterly frozen, unable to comprehend this massacre.
This was not a Revolution; it was a sacrifice.
The timer continued to tick away as flames consumed the city; this fire could no longer be extinguished.
Comment 0 Comment Count