EPISODE 1 - Inɨtium Mørtis The Genesis of Death
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InΣRMA: Case ZerØ [Dark Fantasy][Afterlife][Mystery][100-Day Countdown]
- Thread starter IxMisaka
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EPISODE 1 - Inɨtium Mørtis The Genesis of Death
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IxMisaka
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
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An unrecorded death.
100 days to investigate.
What begins as a murder case spirals into the machinery of the afterlife itself.
This is InΣRMA: Case ZerØ – a dark fantasy about Shinn, a Thai engineering student who dies without record in the system of death.
Granted 100 days, he searches for the truth—
but the deeper he digs, the more he uncovers truths no human was meant to know.
Read more: [RoyalRoad] | [Inkitt]
Support: [Patreon] | [Ko-fi]
---
**CW: death, dismemberment, ritual imagery, dark themes**
A faint, trembling breath.
Then silence.
A faint, trembling breath.
Then silence.
I don't know whose it was.
But it doesn't matter now—No one's left in here.
Just a cheap rented room.
The off-white tiles lay too clean, too empty—as if life never happened here.
Moonlight seeped through pale curtains,
slashing across the floor like a dull blade.
Outside structures cast long, angular shadows,
cutting in like knives.
A smear of dried blood—dark, flaking brown.
Beside a plastic chair,
an arm.
Cleanly torn from the shoulder.
The fingers rest as if the owner had merely dozed off moments ago.
A little farther,
the right leg—twisted at impossible angles.
The ankle bent backwards,
no longer human.
Organs scattered like shrapnel.
As if something had burst from within.
Yet...
The cuts seemed intentional.
The arrangement, deliberate.
Lungs.
Intestines.
Liver.
Heart.
Eyes.
Brain.
Each laid out neatly—like butchered goods in a market stall.
But no one here was trying to learn anatomy.
Not in this place.
No buzzing flies.
No hum of an air conditioner.
Not even the breath of fear.
Only the silence—of a room no longer owned by the living.
In the center,
a massive summoning circle.
Roughly three meters across,
drawn in almost-dried blood.
Ancient glyphs overlapped in layers—so precise it felt like a crime to misdraw even one line.
No glow.
No shimmer.
Just presence—deliberate, unmistakable.
On the ceiling.
Under the table.
Behind the shelves.
The same markings repeated
over and over again.
Some looked like handprints.
Others—as if blood had been spat from someone's mouth and pressed into form.
It was as though the entire room...
was sealing something in.
In the far corner—a man.
Headless.
Sitting against the wall in eerie calm.
No signs of struggle.
No blood trails.
No attempt to flee.
Just stillness.
As if he had been placed there.
Or worse—as if he chose to sit there himself.
The pillar's shadow shifted, ever so slightly, with the moonlight.
As if someone…
was moving outside.
But no one came.
No creaking door.
No footsteps.
Not even a breeze.
No one saw what happened.
And life—is no longer mine to claim.
September 12th
Time: 11:45 PM
Location: A small, one-story house tucked deep inside a quiet alley on the outskirts of Bangkok.
The concrete house wasn't large. It sat far from the main road, buried in silence.
Neighbors had all gone to bed. Only the flickering neon light above the door remained—blinking faintly, near death.
The front yard was damp from rain that had just stopped.
The air carried a mix of wet soil, rusted tin, and extinguished incense.
Inside the house.
A warm ceiling light spilled across a laminate wood floor.
In the center of the living room sat a girl—about fifteen—her wrists bound with a white sai sin thread.
Her hands trembled. She giggled like someone drunk. Her voice drifted between Thai and something… unearthly.
Across from her stood Shinn Akinnara. A university student in a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up halfway. The top button undone. A loose black tie hanging down his chest. Black slacks. Old sneakers. In one hand, a strand of sai sin.
In the other, a crescent-shaped ritual knife, partially wrapped in white cloth. Dark circles lingered under his eyes like quiet reminders of sleepless nights. But his gaze—steady. Controlled.
He glanced toward the corner of the room, where the girl's father stood, shivering.
The girl giggled again. Loud this time—like she recognized him.
he asked.
Her mother hesitated.
He didn't answer. Just stood there. Then slowly closed his eyes.
A low chant slipped from his lips—Calm. Steady. Each syllable fell with weight.
No candles.
No offerings.
No ceremonial cloth.
He simply stood there— and spoke like he was addressing someone unseen.
The girl began to thrash. Her hands clenched. The sai sin pulled tight against her skin—red and straining. Her giggles deepened, warped—the voice that followed…
wasn't human.
Blood trickled from her nose. Still, Shinn didn't move. His eyes were fixed on her feet.
A glowing circle—two feet wide—slowly emerged beneath her. As if etched from light itself. Glyphs spiraled outward. Layer upon layer of ancient script. A metallic tang drifted into his nose.
But there was no wound. No blood.
Only something…slipping free.
His voice was low—but carried weight.
A shadow dense, gray—leaked from her chest like thick smoke.
A flicker.
The room dimmed—but no explosion, no spectacle. The spirit sank quietly. Drawn into the circle like sludge down an invisible drain.
The girl collapsed. Gasping. Eyes unfocused. Tears poured down her cheeks.
Shinn watched her for a moment. Then spoke softly:
Her mother rushed forward, hugging her tightly.
The father stepped toward Shinn, bowing frantically.
Shinn nodded once. No smile. No empty reassurances.
He looked down at the sai sin in his hand. Slipped the blade back into his old backpack. Then added—casually, like talking about a delivery:
Outside, the night was still. Not even a dog barked. Shinn stepped out slowly. A white cloth dragged across the damp ground. The hem of his pants caught a splash. Above the roof, the crescent moon watched on.
Tonight… was quiet.
100 days to investigate.
What begins as a murder case spirals into the machinery of the afterlife itself.
This is InΣRMA: Case ZerØ – a dark fantasy about Shinn, a Thai engineering student who dies without record in the system of death.
Granted 100 days, he searches for the truth—
but the deeper he digs, the more he uncovers truths no human was meant to know.
Read more: [RoyalRoad] | [Inkitt]
Support: [Patreon] | [Ko-fi]
---
** EPISODE 1/1 - Inɨtium Mørtis The Genesis of Death **
**CW: death, dismemberment, ritual imagery, dark themes**
A faint, trembling breath.
Then silence.
A faint, trembling breath.
Then silence.
I don't know whose it was.
But it doesn't matter now—No one's left in here.
Just a cheap rented room.
The off-white tiles lay too clean, too empty—as if life never happened here.
Moonlight seeped through pale curtains,
slashing across the floor like a dull blade.
Outside structures cast long, angular shadows,
cutting in like knives.
A smear of dried blood—dark, flaking brown.
Beside a plastic chair,
an arm.
Cleanly torn from the shoulder.
The fingers rest as if the owner had merely dozed off moments ago.
A little farther,
the right leg—twisted at impossible angles.
The ankle bent backwards,
no longer human.
Organs scattered like shrapnel.
As if something had burst from within.
Yet...
The cuts seemed intentional.
The arrangement, deliberate.
Lungs.
Intestines.
Liver.
Heart.
Eyes.
Brain.
Each laid out neatly—like butchered goods in a market stall.
But no one here was trying to learn anatomy.
Not in this place.
No buzzing flies.
No hum of an air conditioner.
Not even the breath of fear.
Only the silence—of a room no longer owned by the living.
In the center,
a massive summoning circle.
Roughly three meters across,
drawn in almost-dried blood.
Ancient glyphs overlapped in layers—so precise it felt like a crime to misdraw even one line.
No glow.
No shimmer.
Just presence—deliberate, unmistakable.
On the ceiling.
Under the table.
Behind the shelves.
The same markings repeated
over and over again.
Some looked like handprints.
Others—as if blood had been spat from someone's mouth and pressed into form.
It was as though the entire room...
was sealing something in.
In the far corner—a man.
Headless.
Sitting against the wall in eerie calm.
No signs of struggle.
No blood trails.
No attempt to flee.
Just stillness.
As if he had been placed there.
Or worse—as if he chose to sit there himself.
The pillar's shadow shifted, ever so slightly, with the moonlight.
As if someone…
was moving outside.
But no one came.
No creaking door.
No footsteps.
Not even a breeze.
No one saw what happened.
And life—is no longer mine to claim.
September 12th
Time: 11:45 PM
Location: A small, one-story house tucked deep inside a quiet alley on the outskirts of Bangkok.
The concrete house wasn't large. It sat far from the main road, buried in silence.
Neighbors had all gone to bed. Only the flickering neon light above the door remained—blinking faintly, near death.
The front yard was damp from rain that had just stopped.
The air carried a mix of wet soil, rusted tin, and extinguished incense.
Inside the house.
A warm ceiling light spilled across a laminate wood floor.
In the center of the living room sat a girl—about fifteen—her wrists bound with a white sai sin thread.
Her hands trembled. She giggled like someone drunk. Her voice drifted between Thai and something… unearthly.
Across from her stood Shinn Akinnara. A university student in a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up halfway. The top button undone. A loose black tie hanging down his chest. Black slacks. Old sneakers. In one hand, a strand of sai sin.
In the other, a crescent-shaped ritual knife, partially wrapped in white cloth. Dark circles lingered under his eyes like quiet reminders of sleepless nights. But his gaze—steady. Controlled.
He glanced toward the corner of the room, where the girl's father stood, shivering.
Shinn nodded slightly.
The girl giggled again. Loud this time—like she recognized him.
he asked.
Her mother hesitated.
He didn't answer. Just stood there. Then slowly closed his eyes.
A low chant slipped from his lips—Calm. Steady. Each syllable fell with weight.
No candles.
No offerings.
No ceremonial cloth.
He simply stood there— and spoke like he was addressing someone unseen.
"Open the gates of ten thousand graves.
Unveil the paths no eyes can see.
Let lost souls hear the road to stillness.
Let karmic light guide the fractured mind.
From the shadows above, show me what lies beneath.
Wandering spirit, torn from path—leave this body behind.
Return to the cycle. Return to where you came."
Unveil the paths no eyes can see.
Let lost souls hear the road to stillness.
Let karmic light guide the fractured mind.
From the shadows above, show me what lies beneath.
Wandering spirit, torn from path—leave this body behind.
Return to the cycle. Return to where you came."
The girl began to thrash. Her hands clenched. The sai sin pulled tight against her skin—red and straining. Her giggles deepened, warped—the voice that followed…
wasn't human.
Blood trickled from her nose. Still, Shinn didn't move. His eyes were fixed on her feet.
A glowing circle—two feet wide—slowly emerged beneath her. As if etched from light itself. Glyphs spiraled outward. Layer upon layer of ancient script. A metallic tang drifted into his nose.
But there was no wound. No blood.
Only something…slipping free.
His voice was low—but carried weight.
A shadow dense, gray—leaked from her chest like thick smoke.
A flicker.
The room dimmed—but no explosion, no spectacle. The spirit sank quietly. Drawn into the circle like sludge down an invisible drain.
The girl collapsed. Gasping. Eyes unfocused. Tears poured down her cheeks.
Shinn watched her for a moment. Then spoke softly:
Her mother rushed forward, hugging her tightly.
The father stepped toward Shinn, bowing frantically.
Shinn nodded once. No smile. No empty reassurances.
He looked down at the sai sin in his hand. Slipped the blade back into his old backpack. Then added—casually, like talking about a delivery:
Outside, the night was still. Not even a dog barked. Shinn stepped out slowly. A white cloth dragged across the damp ground. The hem of his pants caught a splash. Above the roof, the crescent moon watched on.
Tonight… was quiet.
Last edited: