Chord of Reverie!!
Sinn exhaled deeply, a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his twisted intentions. Yet, moments later, a smile slithered across his face, contorting into an expression of sinister delight—a vile enjoyment that chilled the air around him. His plan to prank the seven unsuspecting men had grown cold and calculating, evolving from a mere jest into something far more ominous.
The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls as if they were alive, whispering secrets only Sinn could understand. The flickering lights cast eerie patterns on his face, accentuating the malevolent grin that now stretched across his lips. It was a grin that spoke of hidden depths, of plans within plans, and of a mind teetering on the edge of madness.
Sinn had underestimated the bizarre nature of his newly enhanced abilities. The Ruliek, an ancient artifact of unimaginable power, had bestowed upon him gifts beyond mortal comprehension. It was said to be capable of bending time itself, rewinding it by five years with but a thought. If it could manipulate the very fabric of reality, surely it could amplify his own strengths as well, turning him into something more than human.
With this revelation, Sinn realized he no longer needed the others. The door that once stood as an obstacle now seemed trivial, easily dismantled with the force of his bloodline's racial 'stark.' This ability, passed down through generations, was a secret weapon he had mastered long ago. He had watched Nel's life unfold like a child's game, learning every nuance, every trick, until using the stark felt as natural as breathing.
Delving deep into concentration, Sinn navigated his sea of consciousness—a vast, uncharted realm where strings and swirling black masses of water formed vortexes of intricate knowledge and law. This was not merely a mental exercise; it was a journey into the very core of his being, where thoughts and emotions intertwined in a complex dance. The sea of consciousness was more daunting than any corridor he had traversed, even if this was his first one, a place where reality and illusion blurred into one, deeply reflecting his abilities.
In a hushed whisper, he invoked the "Chord of Reverie," a name that resonated with power and mystery. The invocation harmonized the ability's performance with the rhythmic hum of ventilations, creating a symphony of sound that wove illusions effortlessly. The lullaby was haunting, its melody both beautiful and terrifying, ensnaring nearly all beings within its reach, provided they heard its ethereal notes.
Conditions applied, of course, depending on the strength of the listener. In his memories, the scientists were mere mortals, their minds fragile and easily swayed.
Sinn was no fool; he was a calculating entity, a master strategist who distrusted the knowledge of the future. He was wary of the butterfly effect and its unpredictable consequences, understanding that even the smallest change could ripple through time with devastating results. He yearned to devise a strategy to wield this foresight efficiently, uninterested in saving lives that held no significance to him. He was no saint, harboring no affection for Nels or anyone else who did not serve his purpose.
If circumstances favored him, he might intervene to save a life or alter history. But if the cost proved too steep, he would watch indifferently as fate unfolded, his heart untouched by the suffering of others. Even as the scientists recoiled from his grotesque expressions, he found amusement in their fear, relishing the irony that they lived despite offending him. Their terror was a testament to his power, a reminder that he held their fates in his hands.
His ability possessed dual functions: conjuring strings and playing a chosen lullaby heightened its effectiveness. Yet, bound as he was, he resorted to manipulating the ventilations—a method far more insidious, as none could discern the difference. The air itself became his instrument, carrying the lullaby's notes to every corner of the room, weaving a tapestry of dreams and nightmares.
The ability had taken hold, his eyes glowing red with power. They burned like embers in the darkness, casting an otherworldly light that illuminated the room. He could now perceive the illusions they saw, molding them to his whims with a mere thought. Reality bent to his will, reshaping itself according to his desires.
Tap
Leonard's clipboard clattered to the ground, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the tense silence. Oblivious to the illusion Sinn had cast, Leonard stared at Sinn's silhouette, unaware of the beast's crimson gaze. Fear gripped him, preventing him from meeting the creature's eyes, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind him, a slow, deliberate cadence that sent shivers down his spine. Turning slowly, Leonard watched Mark, entranced, stride toward the metallic door. His movements were fluid yet mechanical, as if guided by an unseen hand. His pace was unnaturally swift for a man accustomed to the confines of a lab, his eyes vacant and unseeing.
Reaching the door, Mark tapped his ID card, and the door swung open before anyone could intervene. The sound of the door opening was like a thunderclap, reverberating through the room and jolting everyone into action.
"What are you doing, Mark?" Three scientists lunged at Mark, tackling him to the ground with a resounding thud. Their bodies collided in a tangle of limbs, desperation lending them strength as they struggled to restrain him.
Leonard was speechless, stunned by Mark's actions. He knew Mark's intelligence and understood that if anyone grasped the beast's danger, it was Mark. Why then would he open the door? Was it fear? Or something more sinister?
Questions swirled in Leonardson's mind, a maelstrom of confusion and doubt. But before answers emerged, a sound pierced the silence—tiny ripples of tearing, like fabric being rent apart. Instinctively, everyone turned toward the cage, their eyes wide with dread.
Small rips appeared in the protective gear encasing the beast, gear designed for patients with insanity or mental disorders. But it shredded rapidly, the beast thrashing against the gown, metal wires, and chains snapping apart like twigs. Soon, its formidable forearms, shoulders, and chest were revealed—a skeletal figure etched into their minds, a nightmare made flesh.
Anxiety gripped everyone, immobilized by the beast's terrifying gaze. Its eyes were pits of darkness, filled with a malevolent intelligence that promised pain and suffering. Leonard, however, broke free, sprinting toward the door with surprising speed, avoiding the cage entirely. The relentless sound of ripping filled the air, a harbinger of doom.
Swiping his ID card on the box beside the metal door, Leonard sealed it shut. Relief washed over him as he turned back to the room, smiling at his colleagues. But his smile froze, as did Mark, Baron, and the others. Horror painted their faces, their eyes fixed on something behind him.
"You stupid bastard, why would you open the door, Leonard?" Mark shouted, his voice tinged with panic.
"Huh, what are you talking about? I closed the door." Confusion clouded Leonard's mind, his thoughts a jumble of disbelief and denial. "Why are you acting so ungrateful, Mark, and why are y'all looking at me like that? I literally just saved your lives."
Their anger shifted to terror as they glanced behind Leonard, their expressions transforming into masks of fear.
Thud
Heavy muscles moved behind Leonard, the room falling into eerie silence. Soft, rough breathing resonated as a towering figure emerged from behind the metallic door. It dragged a white rag resembling the beast's protective gear, its upper torso stark naked, while its arms fashioned makeshift pants for its lower half. The creature loomed over them, a specter of death and destruction, its presence suffocating and inescapable.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls closing in as the beast advanced.
Its skin was pale and taut, stretched over bones that jutted out like knives. Muscles rippled beneath the surface, each movement a testament to its raw power. The air grew thick with tension, every breath a struggle as they faced the embodiment of their worst fears.
Time slowed, each second stretching into eternity as they awaited their fate. The beast's eyes locked onto Leonard, pinning him in place with a gaze that promised retribution. It was a moment suspended in time, a tableau of horror that would haunt their dreams forever.
And in that moment, Sinn watched, his smile widening as he reveled in the chaos he had unleashed. For him, this was not the end, but merely the beginning—a prelude to a symphony of genocide that would echo through myths and stories.