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墨書 Inktalez
Ironclad struggled to understand the sounds emitted by the whale, but he could never fully grasp their meaning. Suddenly, a deep call erupted from the whale's mouth, causing Ironclad's heart to tremble violently.
The whale's red eyes fixed intently on Ironclad, seemingly conveying some powerful message. As that deep call echoed through the air, a flood of memories surged into Ironclad's mind. Scenes of his encounters with the whale flashed before his eyes; each meeting, each exchange, filled him with a sense of mysterious and incredible connection.
He suddenly remembered that the name of this mysterious whale was Neow. They had encountered each other thousands of times, each time when he re-entered the tower. Neow always appeared in this mysterious and special way, offering some unclear guidance but never fully revealing the truth.
He realized that Neow's existence was an integral part of the tower's unfathomable nature, an essential link in the cycle of curses. Each encounter marked the beginning of his challenge against the tower and his quest for the truth. However, Neow's intentions remained a mystery. His role and purpose within the tower, as well as its connection to the curse, were puzzles that Ironclad longed to unravel.
He tried to steady his mind, searching for the faint guidance in Neow's eyes. He knew that every interaction with Neow could bring new clues and might be the key to breaking the curse.
Neow's voice slowly echoed in the darkness, its words filled with deep emotion: "You have returned again... Ironclad." The voice carried a sorrow and concern that transcended the mundane, as if lamenting Ironclad's endless cycle and struggle.
As the words fell, a mysterious and powerful force began to coalesce around Neow. The energy slowly rotated in the darkness, forming a swirling mass of light and shadow, which then gently floated toward Ironclad. When the light touched his body, he felt an unprecedented exhilaration. He could sense the power flowing through him, not only fully restoring his stamina but also making his muscles and bones stronger and more resilient.
It felt as if he were filled with endless energy, with every cell rejoicing and every nerve pulsating with excitement. His body no longer felt the pain and discomfort from before; only strength and confidence surged within him. A new hope and assurance sparkled in his eyes as he realized that Neow had bestowed upon him newfound power, enabling him to challenge the tower once again.
Ironclad tightly gripped his sword, which seemed to sense his newfound power and emitted an even brighter glow. He bowed deeply to Neow in gratitude. Neow silently watched him, those deep eyes seemingly conveying that this was just the beginning of a new journey. Ironclad nodded and stepped onto the stairs leading to the next level. Behind him came Neow's low growl. The roar echoed through the tower, carrying a mysterious and profound power, like an ancient and enigmatic blessing empowering him. Ironclad could feel that Neow's blessing was filled with a broad love and hope; it was not just a blessing for him but for all the struggling souls within this dark tower.
Ironclad slowly climbed the stairs to the next level, each step filled with determination and courage. He knew that each descent meant greater challenges and unknowns, but he was ready to face them. In his heart, alongside the strong will to break the curse, there was curiosity about the unknown and hope for overcoming difficulties. Behind him, Neow's figure gradually faded into the darkness, but its blessing and power seemed to accompany him always, bringing him courage and strength.
On the stone walls of the stairwell, various texts and symbols are carved, seemingly recording the history of the Tower and its past civilizations. The writing is intricate and ancient, while the symbols are mysterious and profound, as if each symbol and each word contains unknowable wisdom and power. From these texts and symbols, Ironclad can sense that this Tower was once a dwelling or a sanctuary for some wise race.
As Ironclad climbs the stairs, he contemplates the past of the Tower. What force or event could have transformed this once wise Tower into its current state, filled with monsters and chaos? He continuously ponders in his mind, but the answers seem elusive, shrouded in a veil of mystery.
As his thoughts wandered, suddenly, a group of sticky slimes slid down from the ceiling, directly blocking his path. The slime particles were scattered, yet under some invisible force, they formed into small monsters, their eyes glinting with a simple and savage awareness as they charged at Ironclad.
Ironclad instantly snapped back to reality, gripping his sword tightly. A cold light flashed in his eyes as the tip of the sword pointed towards the rapidly approaching slimes. He knew that every corner of this tower could harbor danger, and each layer's challenge should not be underestimated. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his center of gravity, preparing to face the battle ahead. A power began to rise slowly at the tip of his sword.
In the dark stairwell, Ironclad's sword danced with simple and direct arcs. Each time the blade struck the slime, it produced a wet thud, splitting the slime open and splattering its viscous liquid everywhere. Even in such a battle, Ironclad felt a deep sense of confusion within himself.
He could sense that his body seemed to remember more advanced and refined sword techniques and tactics, but whenever he tried to summon those memories, nothing came to mind. His mind was blank; he could only rely on instinct, dealing with the enemy before him in the most straightforward and primal way. There were no flashy moves under his sword—only the most direct slashes, chops, and thrusts, each strike aimed at disassembling and eliminating the foe.
Every time the blade cleaved through a slime, a sense of regret and unwillingness stirred within him. He knew that if he could awaken the forgotten skills and memories, he should be able to defeat the enemy before him more easily. But for now, he could only rely on courage and strength, continuing to fight with determination.
The sound of the blade clashing against the slime echoed in the stairwell, accompanied by the creature's anguished cries. In this dark and ancient tower, Ironclad's figure seemed to symbolize an endless struggle throughout history. Each swing of his sword was a challenge against oblivion, and each victory was a quest into the unknown. Although his heart was filled with doubt, the resolve in his eyes and the power in his sword proved his fearless determination. In every level of the tower, unknown dangers awaited him, yet he was driven by an unfinished mission. No matter how difficult the path ahead might be, he would continue to move forward.
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