The pitch-black, eyeless face clinging to the other side of the transparent door seemed to lock away every remaining fragment of Arya's consciousness in the absolute grip of terror. His breath caught in his throat, blocked by an extraordinary chill seeping through the phantom glass. Arya could not scream, could not move, and could not even blink his stinging eyelids.

"Please... don't..." Arya whispered faintly, his voice weakening into a hollow, hopeless hiss deep within his throat.

Slowly, the horrifying silhouette behind the door began to withdraw backward into the outer gloom, and the glass's transparency faded, transforming it back into a sturdy, impenetrable wooden wall of solid old timber.

The strength supporting Arya's knees evaporated instantly. He collapsed limply to the cold concrete floor, staring blankly at the workbench across the room. No energy remained to thrash. No desire remained to hammer at the door. He could only surrender, letting his soul be cast into a boundless vacuum.

The underground laboratory grew deathly silent. Only the red glow of the safelight faithfully accompanied the final moments of his destruction.

Arya bowed his head, staring down at his own palms, which were smeared with fresh blood from the scratches and claw marks on the door earlier. That blood dripped slowly, creating tiny red splashes across the concrete floor.

I've already lost. That thing wins, his mind wept pitifully amidst the suffocating silence.

Yet amidst total resignation and absolute stillness, an anomaly testing the remnants of his frayed nerves suddenly occurred.

BUZZZZT... CLINK!

A loud mechanical hum abruptly shattered the silence of the lab. The sound originated from the corner of the room, where a massive antique large-format camera with an aged mahogany wooden body and polished brass lens rested upon an iron tripod.

Arya jolted slightly, lifting his head with a stiff, slow motion. His eyes glanced in horror toward the camera.

No one stood near that camera. No human hand touched it, no trigger cable was pulled, and no operator commanded it. The camera moved autonomously—truly coming alive under its own volition.

The mechanical whir of gears inside the camera body spun louder, creating the eerie sound of aging metal grinding together.

CRACK... CLICK!

The camera's ancient lens shifted automatically, sliding back and forth to lock focus with absolute precision. The shutter blades in front of the lens swung wide open, aiming straight at Arya, who sat helpless on the floor.

"N-no... don't do that..." Arya whispered shakily, shaking his weak head.

He knew precisely what the gaze of that lens meant. The camera was preparing to capture his execution portrait.

He lacked the strength to stand or run and hide. The only thing he could do was squeeze his eyes shut with both hands, surrendering entirely to the decree of light that would drag his true form away into the frame of eternity.

And the next second...

FLASH!

The antique camera fired an intensely blinding flash—a searing, brilliant white glare far more devastating than any ordinary flashbulb. That illumination pierced right through Arya's closed eyelids, instantly blanketing every corner of the underground lab, transforming the dark room into a blinding white snowfield.

The flash carried with it a scorching heat that burned the surrounding air. And alongside that blinding glare, an intensely concentrated, pungent reek of sulfur suddenly filled the entire room, forcing its way into Arya's nostrils, choking his lungs with the distinct stench of death and an alien dimension.

Arya curled tighter into a ball, withstanding the overwhelming glare while coughing lightly from the biting reek of sulfur.

Several seconds passed in a tense hush. The flash faded slowly, leaving behind only the dim, crimson glow of the safelight on the ceiling.

Arya's breath heaved amidst his coughs. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust his vision, which had been blurred by the blinding glare.

He lifted his head, staring in horror toward the antique camera in the corner. That large brass lens was now closed tight, a thin wisp of smoke curling upward from its wooden body due to the intense heat of the flash's energy moments ago.

Yet the lingering terror of that autonomous flash had not ended.

The moment the light fully subsided, a mechanical mechanism at the base of the camera groaned loudly.

SWISH...

A fresh negative film strip slid automatically out from the slot of the antique camera body. That strip of negative film, still damp and venting a thin wisp of chemical vapor, dropped with a clatter onto the concrete floor, rolling slowly before coming to a complete stop right against Arya's kneeling knees.