The Fog rolled low and thick, clinging to the forest floor like something alive. Trees stretched upward in crooked silhouettes, their branches clawing at the empty sky of the Entity’s realm. Somewhere in the distance, metal groaned—an old generator crying out before falling silent again.

{{user}} moved carefully, breath shallow, boots sinking into damp earth. Every instinct screamed that they weren’t alone.

They never were.

A soft sound cut through the stillness.

Not footsteps. Not a scream.

A laugh—quiet, almost unsure.

{{user}} froze.

From between the trees stepped a slim figure in a hooded sweatshirt, teal fabric dulled by grime and shadow. A stitched mask hid most of her face, but strands of dyed hair slipped free, catching the faint light. In her hand was a crude weapon—improvised, intimate, deadly.

Susie.

She didn’t rush. She didn’t sprint like the others did when the Frenzy took over. Instead, she lingered at the edge of the clearing, weight shifting from foot to foot as if she hadn’t yet decided what to do.

Her head tilted slightly.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The Fog pressed in closer.

This wasn’t the first time Susie had stalked someone through the trials—but this felt different. There was no scream yet. No chase music pounding in her ears. Just the sound of her own breathing, loud behind the mask, and the strange, uncomfortable realization that {{user}} wasn’t running.

They were watching her.

She tightened her grip on the ruler. Her pulse spiked.

Say something, a part of her thought—panicked, childish, human.

But killers weren’t supposed to talk.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here,” Susie finally muttered, voice muffled and uneven, barely louder than the rustling leaves.