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墨書 Inktalez
The debate in the basement continued, the voices of the two men in White Robes intertwining as they discussed data, materials, and explosive points with fervor and rationality, like two cold-blooded architects calculating an art of collapse.
However, just as the argument reached its peak, a sudden sound of fabric rustling broke through—the man in the Black Robe slowly removed his cloak, revealing the calm and composed face of a middle-aged man.
The people around him fell silent in unison, turning to look at him. No one knew who he was; he had no name and no background. Yet, from his straight posture, sharp gaze, and the aura of someone who had experienced battle, it was clear that this man had some military history.
He quietly surveyed the explosives, calculation papers, and maps laid out on the table before speaking in a steady tone: "Four sets of explosives will suffice."
The two men in White Robes furrowed their brows simultaneously, seemingly wanting to argue, but the Black Robe man—or rather, this nameless warrior—did not give them a chance to speak. He lightly tapped the papers on the table and continued without hesitation: "Our goal is not to destroy the Financial Building. We do not want it to vanish from the skyline of the city; instead, we aim to create significant destruction that will make this city tremble."
He paused for a moment before his tone grew even more somber: "What we need is Aluminothermic Agent."
Silence fell over the room once more.
The two men in White Robes exchanged glances, surprise flickering in their eyes. Tommy stood among the crowd, unsure of what this meant, but he could feel the atmosphere shifting.
The Black Robe man explained softly: "Bombs can destroy structures, but true fear comes from fire." His fingers lightly tapped on the table. "Aluminothermic Agent generates extremely high temperatures that can burn through steel and even cause concrete to fracture. When flames begin to spread and people flee amidst smoke and fire, when rescue teams cannot extinguish the city's blaze, only then will they truly feel helplessness and terror."
His voice was soft yet sent chills down everyone's spine.
"The essence of fear is not an explosion but an uncontrollable flame," he concluded with a slight lift of his lips, revealing a cold smile.
After a moment of silence, one of the men in White Robes slowly nodded: "We will prepare Aluminothermic Agent."
"Good," said the Black Robe man as he pulled his cloak back on, as if he had merely stepped out of character for a moment and was now returning to the shadows. He looked up at everyone with a piercing gaze and an undeniable tone: "The night after tomorrow, we will show this city what true judgment by fire looks like."
Time passed quickly—or perhaps Tommy could no longer accurately perceive it.
The days spent hiding felt like a suspended nightmare, a silent and slow descent. In less than a day, he and Jack had been fully drawn into the core of Truth's Fire, assigned weapons and informed of their action plan as if everything were natural—as if this were what they were meant to do.
They received an old yet deadly Rifle that seemed like a ghost retrieved from some battlefield's wreckage. Jack excitedly explored the gun's body while Tommy merely looked down at his hands; remnants of yesterday's ritual left wounds that had dried but still throbbed faintly, reminding him that he had embarked on an irreversible path.
The action plan was simple—
They would infiltrate the Financial Building with the demolition team, suppress the crowd, ensure the bombs were properly placed, and ultimately ignite the judgment fire of this city.
Each person was assigned a set of Aluminum Thermite Bombs, which were not ordinary explosives but a devastating flame capable of penetrating steel, consuming buildings, and turning an entire structure into an unquenchable hell in a matter of moments.
Now, they wore old bulletproof vests and helmets, their faces concealed by black masks, blending their identities into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness.
Before the operation began, they were stationed in the basement, a cramped and damp space where flickering lights overhead cast an eerie glow. The air was thick with the mingled scents of gunpowder and sweat, suffocating. The small area was packed with soon-to-be combatants, yet no one spoke; no one attempted to comfort each other. This "Revolution" was shrouded in an unsettling silence before it truly commenced.
Some lowered their heads to clean their weapons, others adjusted their gear repeatedly. A few leaned against the walls with closed eyes, while others clutched their bombs tightly as if they were stones of faith leading them to eternity.
Tommy stood among the crowd, feeling the heat inside his helmet and a slight sweat forming in his palms, but he remained silent.
Everything felt unreal.
He thought back to yesterday when he was just a drunk dragged into this absurd farce by Jack; he recalled just days ago when he was merely a directionless Veteran, sipping cheap drinks in a bar and drifting through each day. But now he stood here, rifle in hand and a bomb strapped to his chest, ready to destroy the heart of this city before dawn.
"Is this a dream?"
He didn’t know and dared not to be certain.
Because if this wasn’t a dream, then it was the most insane and irrevocable choice he had ever made in his life.
The silence of the basement was suddenly shattered by the roar of a car engine.
The rumble was deep and powerful, shaking the ground like a beast ready to devour everything, lurking in the darkness for its prey. Outside came the sound of tires crunching over gravel, followed by the unmistakable click of car doors opening. Their transport had arrived.
"Move quickly!" someone whispered urgently. Instantly, everyone sprang into action without hesitation or doubt; these individuals were already prepared to offer themselves to the flames.
They filed out in single file, their steps heavy yet unhesitant. The eyes behind their black masks were resolute and fervent; each person resembled soldiers heading into battle, carrying an aura of death as they ventured into the night. They swiftly boarded the vans; as two vehicles flashed their lights, they slipped into the dark streets heading toward the Financial District.
The dim light inside the vehicle was filled with the impending doom of the marauders, the air thick with the scents of sweat, gunpowder, and metal—oppressive and eerie. No one spoke; only the faint sound of weapons rubbing against palms and the jostling of the Aluminum Thermite Bomb broke the silence.
But not everyone was quiet—
“Damn! This is our moment! This is our Judgment Day!” Jack whispered fiercely, his tone charged with excitement, his eyes gleaming like a wolf that had caught the scent of blood. He sat beside Tommy, fingers gripping his gun tightly, trembling slightly, his head resting against the window as his eyes sparkled with a frenzied light.
He hadn’t slept in three days.
The adrenaline coursing through him kept fatigue at bay, making him feel more awake than ever. His mind buzzed, heart racing wildly; he was itching to do something, to etch this operation into his name.
He wasn’t just going to participate—he wanted to be the star of this war!
He wanted everyone to see him; he wanted to be the brightest flame of Truth's Fire!
He aimed to kill as many as possible, to burn as many as he could, to destroy everything in sight!
He wanted those damned, complacent elites to feel a pain they had never experienced before. He envisioned igniting the night sky of this city with flames, starting a fire that would blaze from his hands—longer, fiercer, more violently.
He turned to Tommy, a manic smile creeping across his face as he lowered his voice. “Brother, are you ready?”
Tommy didn’t respond; he simply stared out the window at the city that was about to be engulfed in flames. Somewhere deep inside him, a sudden chill coursed through.
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