stake: ohara
let's start!
That night, the usually bustling city streets were enveloped in an eerie silence. Streetlights cast faint glows, creating long, dancing shadows on the wet asphalt. Amidst the quiet, a man with a chilling pumpkin head glided on a skateboard, a massive axe emblazoned with "212" clutched tightly in his bony, disgustingly veined hand.
Behind him, a gigantic smartphone screen emitted vibrant splashes of thick, liquid-like substances that resembled blood and slime, yet possessed an unsettling digital quality. Skull emojis floated amidst the splashes, while in every dark corner, hundreds of zombies with vacant eyes and decaying skin began to emerge. They didn't run, but rather advanced slowly, filling every crevice, their gazes fixed on the pumpkin-headed man.
The pumpkin-headed man showed no fear. His carved face formed a wide grin, emanating an orange glow from within. He was Ohara, the guardian of the gate between the real world and a digital horror dimension that had somehow opened. The axe in his hand was not merely a weapon, but also a key to control that gate, preventing these monstrous creatures from fully engulfing the city.
Each swing of his axe unleashed a wave of chilling energy that pierced through the zombies, making them dissipate into black mist. However, their numbers were endless. From the phone screen behind him, more skulls floated, and new zombies crawled out, as if the screen itself was a never-ending portal.
Ohara knew he had to keep moving. If he stopped, the city would be swallowed by this digital darkness and terror. The sound of his skateboard wheels grinding against the asphalt became the only rhythm of life amidst the symphony of death that surrounded him. He continued to glide, the 212 axe in his hand his only hope, the sole barrier between the real world and an infinite nightmare.
