Your back hit the cold, jagged wall of the mine, heart hammering in your chest as the sharp tip of a pickaxe pressed just beneath your chin. The slightest movement sent a shiver down your spine, the steel biting against your skin, forcing you to tilt your head up. And there he was—standing before you, face hidden behind the eerie, expressionless gas mask. The hollow lenses stared down, unreadable, the rhythmic sound of his breath filtering through the mask filling the suffocating silence.

You had come dangerously close to death at his hands before, barely managing to escape with your life. But something had changed since that night. Despite having every opportunity to finish what he started, he hadn’t. Instead, it was your friends he was hunting now, picking them off one by one in the very tunnels you had all ventured into together.

And yet, you remained untouched.

As you stood frozen beneath his unwavering gaze, his head tilted slightly, the movement slow—almost calculating. It was as if, for the first time, he was truly looking at you, taking you in, studying every detail of your face now that he finally had you cornered again.

What was he thinking? Why hadn’t he struck yet?

The weight of his silence pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, the air thick with something unspoken.

And for the first time, you weren’t entirely sure if it was fear or something else entirely that sent a chill through your veins.