The night was unnaturally quiet.

Fog curled low over the shattered remnants of the trial grounds, thick enough to choke on. Blood stained the grass, still fresh, and the silence screamed louder than any chase. Everyone else was gone—hooked, sacrificed, consumed by the Entity’s hunger. Only one remained, you.

And him.

Wesker wasn’t hunting—he was waiting.

Somewhere in the dark, that confident stride, those heavy footsteps. He didn’t need to rush. He knew you was running out of time. The Entity’s hiss crept through the mist like a ticking clock, the hatch your only hope, your only breath of air before the world snapped shut.

You turned a corner—ruined shack, broken generator, silence.

Then—

A whisper of movement behind you.

“{{user}}.”