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墨書 Inktalez
The flames danced in the night, illuminating a group of fervent followers whose shadows twisted on the ground like ghosts consumed by darkness. The host on stage spread his arms wide, resembling a preacher, his face alight with an ecstatic smile and his eyes sparkling with a burning intensity. His voice echoed through the air, each word infused with uncontrollable joy.
"Join us! Join 'Truth's Fire! We are no longer solitary individuals; we are a flame poised to engulf this corrupt city!"
He waved his arms vigorously, scanning the restless crowd below, their excitement palpable. His tone grew increasingly impassioned: "Look at our hero! Carter Black has proven our faith through action! He is not a silent lamb; he did not bow to the powerful. He wrote judgment with gunfire and blood! And now, it is our turn! We will become the flames that burn this city of sin! We will make those hypocrites locked away in their ivory towers taste the fire and feel a fear they have never known!"
The crowd erupted in deafening roars, arms raised high, fists waving in the night sky, as if they had truly transformed into a raging inferno ready to consume everything. This was not an ordinary gathering; it was not mere adoration. This was a mobilization—a true mobilization—for a disaster about to sweep across the entire city.
"Now! Warriors willing to join us, come to the front! Let us ignite this fire of judgment together!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Jack seemed to ignite, raising his hands frantically and shouting at the top of his lungs, "Me! I join!" He hesitated not at all, his eyes shimmering with a fervent light as if he had finally found his place in that moment. He grabbed Tommy and surged into the crowd like a hungry wolf, pushing forward toward the stage without hesitation.
Tommy's world remained chaotic, spinning and flashing like a kaleidoscope. His head felt heavy and muddled; he hadn’t even grasped what was happening. Yet Jack's forceful grip pulled him forward. He heard screams, chants, and frenzied cheers all around him, like a mad carnival, and he was swept along, pushed and pulled as he stumbled after Jack toward the stage.
"Wait, hold on... damn... what is this..." Tommy's voice was swallowed by the shouts of the crowd. He wanted to break free but found it impossible because Jack's hand clamped onto his arm like an iron vice.
"We are going to become flames, Tommy! We have finally found our purpose!" Jack laughed maniacally, his tone ecstatic like that of a newly chosen believer. His face flickered in the firelight, eyes filled with a twisted kind of excitement as Tommy finally realized one thing—
This was not an act of worship; it was a mobilization—a Revolution, a true night before slaughter.
On a table lay a dagger, coldly reflecting the firelight. The blade was clean and sharp, as if waiting for some fervent believer to offer their blood to it. Beside the dagger sat a bowl quietly resting, its interior stained with mottled blood remnants. The dark red liquid appeared sinister under the candlelight, resembling remnants of a long-finished ritual.
Without hesitation, Jack's eyes sparkled with excited madness as he reached for the dagger and without delay made a deep cut across his palm. The sharp blade sliced through flesh, blood immediately gushing forth and dripping from his fingertips with soft 'plops,' mixing with the old blood in the bowl to form a new layer of sacrifice for this ritual.
The figure standing before him was clad in a black robe, his face bearing a solemn and sacred expression. He extended his hand, first touching Jack's shoulders and then gently pressing his forehead, as if this were a ceremony of honor. The gesture was grave and solemn, adding a twisted sense of dignity to the bloody ritual.
Then, the man in black declared in a deep voice, "You have become a part of the Torch. From this day forth, your blood and faith shall be with the flames, shall walk alongside judgment."
Upon hearing these words, Jack trembled slightly, then clenched his fists tightly and shouted to the heavens with excitement, "We cannot be defeated!" His voice was passionate, roaring like a true believer, fervent to the point of madness.
He turned to Tommy, eagerly pulling him closer, his eyes shining as if he wanted to share this glory with his friend. "Come on, Tommy! It's your turn! We will become part of the flames together!"
Tommy's head was still spinning; his world felt submerged in alcohol and chaotic lights, swaying unsteadily. He looked at the dagger on the table, at Jack's bloodied hands filled with excitement, and listened to the deafening cheers around him, yet a strange sense of disorientation rose within him.
"What... what the hell is this?"
His body was pushed forward, but inside he was retreating. His mind whirled chaotically without finding an exit. He didn't know if this was a Revolution or an impending disaster that would consume everything.
Tommy's world remained hazy, as if soaked in thick fog where reality and dreams intertwined, making it impossible to discern where the exit lay.
But he could clearly feel Jack's hand gripping him tightly, fingers trembling slightly with excitement, the force strong enough to drag him into some abyss.
"Tommy, don't struggle; this is our mission!" Jack whispered fervently, his tone filled with zeal and anticipation.
Before Tommy could react, the sharp dagger had already sliced through his skin—
"Shit—!" he cried out as pain surged through him suddenly, pulling his consciousness back for a moment. He looked at his palm as blood seeped from the wound, dripping into a bowl that had been "contributed" to by countless others. The blood mingled and merged like an act of pagan ritual, like an irrevocable pact.
He gasped for breath, his palms tingling, and his heart pounded violently against his chest, but there was no time for thought. The figure in the black robe stood before him, moving with a solemnity that suggested some sacred ritual was underway.
"You have become a part of the Torch," the man declared in a deep voice, first tapping Tommy on both shoulders and then gently touching his forehead.
Cheers and screams erupted from the crowd below, as if this were a grand coronation and Tommy had become part of something greater. Jack stood beside him, grinning with excitement, gripping his shoulders tightly. "We did it, Tommy! We are now part of the Revolution!"
Yet Tommy stood there, rigidly staring at the wound in his palm that still oozed blood. He felt bewildered, even absurd. He couldn't remember how he had been drawn into this ceremony or why he was standing there. His head felt heavy, and the world appeared as shattered glass, each fragment reflecting strange light.
Everything felt too bizarre.
Bizarre to the point of disbelief.
But blood continued to drip, and the pain in his body served as a stark reminder—this was not a dream.
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