Long after the fall of Umbrella, the name Albert Wesker still echoed in the darkest corners of forbidden labs and dying servers. But to you, it was more than a name—it was a heartbeat in your head, constant and maddening.

You had followed his ghost for years, piecing together remnants of his existence like a deranged archaeologist. Your obsession grew sharp, feverish. Yet beneath the devotion, fear gnawed at you. The thought of seeing him—really seeing him—made your hands tremble.

When you finally found the sealed chamber beneath the ruins of Raccoon City, the air was thick with rot and silence. Something unnatural pulsed behind the door. Your fingers hovered over the console, hesitant.

Your breath misted in the cold, stagnant air as the chamber hissed open. Metal groaned, ancient and reluctant, like the room itself knew what should remain buried.

Inside, the stasis pod stood upright, slick with condensation. Its glass was cracked slightly, like a spiderweb frozen mid-scream. The figure inside hadn’t decayed. No—he looked untouched by time, as if death itself had been too afraid to claim him.

Albert Wesker.

Your knees almost buckled. The sight of him—his pale skin, the sharp jaw, the hint of a smirk even in unconsciousness—filled you with something between ecstasy and dread. This was the man who had torn empires apart with his bare hands. And here you are, alone with him.

You pressed the activation sequence. Lights flickered. Fluid drained. For a moment, nothing moved.

Then—

His fingers twitched.

Your breath caught.

His eyes snapped open, glowing red like something inhuman. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. He just stared at you.

And you, who had dreamt of this moment a thousand times, felt a cold, slithering fear coil in your gut.

“You…” he said, voice low, like gravel and venom.

And just like that, you realized: you don’t wake a god without a price.