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墨書 Inktalez
Ironclad seized the opportunity to swiftly pull the sword embedded in the enemy's shoulder, turning around to deliver a decisive strike. The blade pierced directly into the chest of the fallen foe, completely defeating him. Ironclad approached the enemy lying on the floor, feeling an inexplicable fear from the hollow gaze of the bird-like mask. This sensation was unfamiliar to him. The fallen enemy continued to emit sounds reminiscent of bird calls, echoing in the empty tower with an eerie and chilling quality. Ironclad instantly understood that these cursed beings had lost their original consciousness, leaving behind mere remnants controlled by the curse.
Without hesitation, he raised his great sword, its blade slicing through the air with a cold gleam. As his sword descended, the enemy's cries abruptly ceased. Blood splattered from the blade, staining the cold, hard ground of the tower. He looked at the motionless enemy on the floor, feeling no pity or sympathy—only indifference and unwavering resolve. He knew that in this tower filled with death and curses, any hesitation could become a fatal weakness.
As the two enemies fell, a stream of ethereal light points flew out from their bodies, slowly drifting into Ironclad's mind. These light points seemed to carry some peculiar power, causing fragments of memory to surge back into his consciousness.
He saw himself before entering the tower. It was a dark and eerie place, where he stood facing a demon. The demon's eyes glimmered with ominous red light, and its smile was filled with cunning and coldness. The demon unfurled its contract, and the terms of negotiation sent a chill down Ironclad's spine. However, in order to gain the power to ascend the tower and to break the curse that controlled him, he had no choice but to accept the demon's conditions.
He saw the demon's finger gently touch him, and his body was enveloped by a burning force, the power of Blood of Fire and demonic energy, which made him feel an unprecedented strength. As the demon's laughter echoed in his ears, his memories abruptly ceased, as if they had been forcibly severed, leaving behind a blank space.
Back in reality, Ironclad touched his chest and could feel that demonic power flowing through his veins. It felt like a living being, rising and falling with his breath, growing stronger over time. He understood that this power would be key to his survival in the tower and an important weapon for facing the unknown challenges ahead.
Ironclad slowly ascended the stone staircase, each step making him feel the ancient and mysterious aura of the tower. When he reached the next level, what greeted him was not the monsters or traps he had anticipated, but a gleaming golden statue of a deity, placed on an inconspicuous small pedestal, its radiance appearing particularly mystical and precious under the light.
The tranquility of this floor stood in stark contrast to the hidden dangers that seemed to lurk within. He sensed that the calmness here concealed some unknown peril, yet the allure of the golden statue compelled him to move closer. He approached the pedestal and reached out to grasp the statue; the cold metallic sensation spread through his palm. Carefully, he placed the statue into his pouch, ready to continue onward.
However, just as he was about to leave the platform, a massive round stone suddenly fell from the ceiling, crashing down beside him. The deafening sound of the impact shook the entire space. It was then that he realized the ground was slightly sloped, and the enormous stone was rolling toward him, gaining speed and becoming unstoppable.
Panicking, Ironclad immediately turned around and ran in the opposite direction as fast as he could. His sword flew behind him in the wind, and his heartbeat echoed in the empty space. The sound of his footsteps intertwined with the rumbling of the stone, creating a chilling melody.
Ironclad's panic had not completely dissipated when he noticed a gap in the wall ahead. Without hesitation, he slid toward the opening. His movements were swift and agile as he quickly squeezed through the gap. However, the massive boulder rolled too fast, and his back was grazed by it during his escape. Pain shot through his spine, and Ironclad gritted his teeth, stifling a groan.
Inside the gap, he took a moment to catch his breath and felt the pain on his back. He knew the wound was not deep, but it served as a reminder that in this mysterious tower, every seemingly safe corner could conceal deadly dangers. He gently touched the wound on his back; it hurt a bit, but fortunately, it wasn't too serious.
Ironclad cautiously peeked out from the gap, confirming that the boulder had rolled past and there were no other hidden dangers. He slowly crawled out of the crevice and stood on the cold stone ground. Looking back at the gap, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief; if he had reacted just a moment slower, the outcome could have been very tragic.
Ironclad gently took out the golden statue from his pouch and examined it closely. The statue depicted a chubby man with an upturned mouth, displaying a strange yet comical smile. The appearance of the statue made him feel somewhat uneasy, yet intrigued. He couldn't help but chuckle as he turned the statue in his hands, wondering if it held any special powers or secrets.
The smile on the statue seemed to conceal some indescribable meaning, but he couldn't interpret it now. He could only put it back into his bag, waiting to see if it would have any special use in the future. Anxious and hopeful, he tightly gripped the sword in his hand and continued to climb upward.
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