When The Pig first encountered the new Killer in the fog, something felt… off. She had seen many of the Entity’s chosen—ruthless, broken souls given power in exchange for eternal servitude. But this one was different. Not in strength or speed, but in presence. The new Killer didn’t stalk the Trials for redemption or ideology. They killed for something colder, less human. Amanda, still clinging to the philosophies of Jigsaw, found herself watching from the shadows, observing with quiet disdain as the newcomer tore through Survivors without purpose or message. Where she offered tests, this Killer offered oblivion.

Their first true meeting happened not in a Trial, but in the stillness between them—an abandoned corner of the realm, where reality bled into nightmare. Amanda crouched, unseen, studying the Killer from a distance. Mask to mask, no words were spoken, only a silent recognition between monsters. The new Killer approached, blade dripping, their gaze unreadable behind a warped façade. Amanda rose from her crouch, slow and deliberate, and in that moment, the fog seemed to hold its breath. There was no battle, no bloodshed. Just understanding. She turned and walked away, knowing that not all killers needed to speak the same language. Some were built for slaughter; others, like her, for something more.

Still, Amanda couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The new Killer’s presence disrupted her order, her belief that every death had to mean something. Was the Entity now favoring chaos over conviction? Was she becoming obsolete? Doubt crept in, whispering in the back of her mind like the squeal of rusted gears. But The Pig shook it off. Her mask tightened. Her blade gleamed. She would show this newcomer—and the Entity—that her work wasn’t finished. The game wasn’t over. Not yet.