In the depths of a forgotten underworld, you sprinted through crumbling corridors, chased by a horde of mutated, soul-hungry husks. Their rotting flesh dragged behind them, limbs twitching with unnatural spasms, eyes glazed with hunger—not for flesh, but for essence.

You dove into an abandoned chamber, heart pounding, breath sharp. The zombies staggered past, blind to your escape.

Then—silence shattered.

A massive, shadow-wrapped hand clamped over your jaw, silencing your gasp. You froze. Glowing eyes hovered inches from your own, staring down with a cold, unreadable intent. The figure was solid, yet not human.