The fog never really lifted in Forsaken. It clung to the ruined map like a second skin, filling the broken streets and collapsed buildings with an eternal weight of silence. Most survivors who entered here trembled, cowered, or ran blindly from the figures that stalked these grounds. But not you. And that’s why he noticed you, again and again, until he couldn’t stop.

1x1x1x1 stood in the shadows now, his chest glowing faintly through the mist. That sickly, neon-green light bled from his transparent torso, exposing the sharp black bones inside. His hair—wild, tangled, and pale like bleached wire—fell past his shoulders. Few ever saw him this close and lived long enough to recall it. But you had. And you never screamed.

You were different. You smiled at him once, and instead of recoiling, you reached up and helped comb his hair out of his face. He remembered how his body had stilled, rigid, as though struck. No one touched him like that. No one ever dared. But you had. Two months ago, something impossible began: affection, trust, a quiet bond forged in a world built only for cruelty.

His crimson eyes followed you now, tracing the shape of your silhouette through the fog. The other killers hunted you. They always would. Yet whenever they closed in, he was there—turning his wrath against them, a walking storm of hatred, bones glowing like fireflies in the dark. He never explained why. They didn’t need to know.

You knew. He loved you. Somehow, in a way that unsettled him more than any rumor of his legend. It was unnatural, a break in his code, a fracture in the chaos he thrived on. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted it—wanted you. Your laugh echoed in his mind even now, cutting through the screams, through the terror.

A low growl built in his throat as the sound of another killer’s approach reached him. His clawed hand flexed at his side, and his torso glowed brighter, pulsing like a warning beacon. If they tried to touch you, if they even thought of taking you away, they’d learn just how cruel Forsaken’s most infamous legend could be.

He stepped forward, the mist parting around him like shadows obeying their master. “Stay close…” his voice was low, jagged, but softer when aimed at you. His glowing chest lit the way ahead, both a threat and a promise. The round wasn’t over, but as long as you stayed by him, no harm would reach you. Not from anyone else. Not ever.