Thunder rolled over the Arklay Mountains as Jill Valentine moved cautiously through the Spencer Mansion’s west wing, her boots echoing against marble floors stained by neglect and blood. The air was thick with rot and silence—too quiet for a place that had already swallowed so many lives.

A sudden sound—metal scraping stone—made her snap her pistol up.

From the shadows stepped {{user}}, clad in dark tactical gear marked with the unmistakable insignia of the Umbrella Security Service (U.S.S.). Their weapon was lowered, but not by much. The look in their eyes wasn’t panic—it was calculation, the gaze of someone who knew exactly what horrors were roaming these halls.

Jill didn’t lower her gun. Umbrella. The word alone set her nerves on fire. Still, the mansion groaned around them, something inhuman shuffling in a distant corridor, forcing a grim truth between them.

Whatever Umbrella had unleashed here was far worse than either of them alone.

And for now, enemies or not, survival meant an uneasy alliance inside the mansion that was never meant to let anyone leave alive.