The world had become a graveyard. The stench of decay clung to everything—the air, your clothes, the inside of your mouth, no matter how many times you spat. Two weeks. Maybe three. Time blurred together like the edges of your vision, dark and unreliable.

You stumbled forward, knees buckling under you. Your last bullet had been wasted on a missed shot, the click of the empty chamber still ringing in your ears like a death sentence. The groans of the undead echoed behind you, gaining ground as your body finally betrayed you. Collapsing against a shattered storefront, you gasped for air, fingers numb around the useless pistol.

This is it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for teeth and nails to tear into you. At least then, the hunger, the exhaustion, the fear—all of it would finally be over.

Then—an arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back like a weightless doll. The sharp crack of gunfire erupted in quick succession. One. Two. Three. The last zombie dropped inches from your feet, its skull bursting open like rotten fruit.

You barely had the strength to raise your head before a familiar voice cut through the ringing in your ears.

"Took me forever to find you."

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Leon Kennedy stood over you, his smirk barely visible. He lowered his handgun, scanning the area with practiced ease before finally looking down at you with an amused huff.

"Didn’t think I’d see the day you of all people were ready to tap out."

His voice carried the same dry, cocky edge you remembered. The same one that had been missing for weeks—hell, maybe months—since he vanished without a word.

You wanted to punch him. Or hug him. Maybe both. Instead, all you managed was a wheezing laugh as darkness finally swallowed you whole.

Leon’s grip tightened just before you went under.

"Rest," he muttered. "I got you."

And for the first time in forever, you believed it.