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墨書 Inktalez
The priest's hand gripped the white rope tightly, the final step seemingly draining every ounce of strength from his body. His palms, smeared with grime, were red and swollen from prolonged friction, and the muscles in his shoulders and back trembled from extreme fatigue. Sweat mixed with dirt streaked down his face, yet his eyes burned with an indescribable determination.
"Hah! Hah!" The crowd in the square reached a fever pitch, their voices crashing like waves against the eardrums of everyone present. The atmosphere around them was nearly frenzied; all held their breath, watching the final ascent.
At last, the priest's hand touched the top of the pillar. It was a flat surface soaked in black oil, but at that moment, it seemed to transform into a symbol of sanctity. He pushed himself up with great effort, swaying unsteadily as he stood tall, raising both hands high above his head. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently, yet his face radiated an uncontrollable excitement.
"I did it!" The priest's voice was hoarse but filled with power. His shout pierced through the square like lightning, cutting through the crowd's anticipation and tension.
The square erupted into thunderous cheers. Men raised their arms in triumph, women were moved to tears, and children jumped and clapped as if witnessing a miracle firsthand. Some even knelt on the ground, hands clasped together in fervent prayer towards the priest standing atop the pillar.
His white ceremonial robe was now unrecognizable, almost completely covered in black oil, making him appear as a symbol born from darkness. He stood there, swaying precariously, yet his gaze conveyed an unwavering resolve.
Amidst the crowd's cheers, various offerings were hurled towards the altar. Fruits, incense pouches, and even small statues were tossed one after another until they piled up at the base of the altar. A few individuals even banded together to push an entire basket of fresh flowers onto the platform; petals danced in the air, swirling with the wind as if paying tribute to the priest standing at the pinnacle.
Drones hovered above, their red lights flashing as cameras clicked continuously, capturing this moment with crystal clarity. Each drone's lens focused intently on the figure atop the pillar, attempting to document every detail of this ritual.
The priest stood there, slowly raising his arms as if embracing the entire sky. His figure loomed high above, contrasting sharply against the black pillar—a faith rising from filth that moved everyone present.
As the climax of the ritual unfolded with the priest's triumphant shout, the raucous crowd gradually quieted down; only occasional whispers and scattered applause echoed through the square. However, a commanding shout suddenly shattered the brief silence.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!" The sharp sound of long spears striking the ground resonated like a drumbeat in everyone's hearts. The crowd swiftly turned their attention to its source—a squad of Yangchuan Soldiers stood rigidly at the foot of the platform, rifles in hand, stepping forward in perfect unison like a moving wall of steel. Leading them was a woman clad in Yangchuan Military Uniform.
She ascended to the platform slowly; her armor gleamed under the sunlight with a cold brilliance. Her posture was straight and her steps steady—an aura forged by years on battlefields that weighed heavily even amidst this peaceful ceremony. Her hand rested lightly on her sword hilt at her waist as her piercing gaze swept across the entire square, exuding an undeniable authority.
Across from her, a man dressed in Fog Capital Traditional Attire ascended the platform as well. His attire was exquisite and intricate, with each sleeve adorned with meticulously carved patterns that signified his noble status. The man's expression was calm, and his steps were measured, forming a stark contrast to the woman's resolute demeanor. Yet, despite his composed appearance, each footfall exuded an oppressive aura, as if a low cloud loomed overhead.
The two stood facing each other, the air on the platform taut like an invisible string. Both wore polite smiles, yet beneath those smiles lay a sharpness that hinted at an underlying tension, causing the surrounding crowd to hold their breath. The recent ritual symbolizing peace seemed instantly overshadowed by the confrontation between these two figures, leaving behind a palpable sense of hostility and conflict.
The woman spoke first, her voice deep yet resonant with a compelling force: "War, for the common people of this world, is like a ravenous wolf, gnawing at every inch of land and bringing endless fear and calamity." Her gaze swept over the crowd, as if each word struck at their hearts. "Today, the heavens have bestowed upon us their revelation. This pillar is not meant to divide us but to remind us that war should not continue to spread in this manner."
Her words plunged the crowd into a brief silence; many bowed their heads in contemplation. However, the man from Wu Jing maintained his serene smile, saying nothing but standing quietly as if awaiting his moment.
The woman's smile remained intact, yet her eyes sharpened gradually, piercing like a blade aimed directly at him. She continued, her voice resonating like a hammer striking the earth, each word heavy with undeniable weight: "Yet even with our hearts set on peace, there are still those who ignore the suffering of the people solely to satisfy their own desires. They cloak their actions in the name of liberation while dragging our borders into disaster time and again."
Her words landed like a bombshell in the square, igniting murmurs among the crowd; some wore expressions of confusion while others began to glance around anxiously.
As her speech concluded, the woman’s gaze shifted gently toward the man from Wu Jing across from her. A knowing smile crept onto her lips as if she had unmasked her true target without reservation.
The man responded without altering his smile; it only deepened in intensity. With a slight wave of his sleeve, as if brushing away invisible dust, he spoke with an air of disdain and composure: "It seems that Yang Chuan's orator still excels at painting illusory visions with beautiful words. However... before blaming others, perhaps one should first check if their own hands are stained with blood."
As his words echoed through the square, the atmosphere suddenly chilled; an anticipatory silence enveloped the crowd as they sensed an impending storm.
Suddenly, from behind both the woman and man, a Cyber Samurai emerged almost simultaneously. The warrior from Yang Chuan was clad in sleek silver cybernetics with smooth lines; a long blade rested on his shoulder while its scabbard glowed with Dark Red patterns that suggested flames could erupt at any moment. His mask concealed his entire face except for cold blue lenses that emitted an inorganic gleam.
In contrast, Wu Jing's warrior appeared even more sinister. His cybernetics were polished to a mirror finish and covered in a black optical coating that nearly blended into the surrounding shadows. Two short blades hung at his waist, their scabbards faintly glowing green like venomous snakes poised to strike. His helmet resembled a narrow eagle's beak, sharp-eyed and merciless.
The two Cyber Samurais advanced slowly, positioning themselves behind their respective masters with synchronized precision—like finely tuned machines radiating an oppressive aura.
A stir began to ripple through the crowd, with someone whispering, "Could this... could this be a duel?"
Another person exclaimed in shock, "But this is the Heavenly Deity Festival! How can they...?"
Yet more people eagerly surged forward, seemingly afraid to miss a peak confrontation between top warriors. Their shouts grew louder, igniting like flames and pushing the entire square into another fervent climax.
The man and woman on the platform remained in place, their smiles unchanged, but the coldness hidden beneath those smiles was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
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