The deeper I moved into the Arklay foothills, the less natural the forest felt.
It wasn't just the silence, broken only by the crunch of dirt underfoot and the whisper of wind through too-still trees. It was the wrongness of the air itself—heavy, thick, like the woods were holding their breath.
The Spencer Mansion lay miles ahead, but my current objective was different. More grotesque.
I was tracking something that shouldn't exist. A mimic of a man long dead—Dr. James Marcus.
Or rather, the abomination wearing his face.
I had gone over the path again and again. In the game, followed the route from the Ecliptic Express wreckage through the Umbrella Training Facility—a winding, rotting structure of grotesque gothic architecture—and deeper, eventually finding the mutated Marcus fused with the Queen Leech.
But this wasn't a game. This was boots on the ground.
And it was far worse in person.
I would only made it a mile before the first pack hit me.
Low growls emerged from the trees. Five dogs—no, not dogs. Not anymore. Their skin was peeling, bone exposed along the ribs, eyes glowing faintly red from infection.
"Cerberus...".
I didn't hesitate. first pivoted, raised my pistol, and fired.
CRACK! CRACK!
The lead dog went down, tumbling in a spray of infected blood.
Another lunged from my blind side.
I ducked low, rolling under its snapping jaws. It crashed into a tree, stunned. I drew my knife and drove it into the beast's flank before twisting and yanking it free.
Two more circled.
First I holstered the pistol and slung my shotgun from my back.
BOOM!
One was torn apart mid-leap.
The last turned to flee—but I shot it in the spine before it could vanish.
I took a breath, my heart pounding.
"Jesus," I whispered. "They're faster than they looked on-screen."
I reloaded with shaking hands.
The mixture adrenaline and fear.
It wasn't just the Cerberus. The forest had changed.
Twice now, I've seen mutated birds overhead. Their wings moved wrong—stiff, erratic. I counted at least four bloated deer corpses, their necks twisted, heads snapped sideways like some invisible force had swatted them into trees.
Then the ground changed.
Wet.
The leeches were near.
The dirt sucked at my boots, thick with decomposing plant matter. Ahead, moss-covered stone emerged from the underbrush—a familiar shape.
The entrance to the old Training Facility.
The Umbrella crest was eroded, overgrown with vines, and yet somehow... untouched.
"This is where Rebecca and Billy split up," I murmured.
I pushed forward, knowing what waited.
As I entered the structure, immediately I felt the temperature drop. The air stank of rot and moisture. The ceiling groaned, the walls weeping decay.
I moved carefully. Every step echoed through the broken tile.
And then came the sound.
A wet squirming. A chorus of it. Like worms writhing in meat.
From the far hallway, a shape emerged. It was tall, swaying, pale-skinned with a Victorian-style coat draped over its twisted form.
The man's face was wrong. Too smooth. Too... fresh.
I knew what it was.
"Marcus," I whispered.
The creature turned its head toward him and smiled. "You..."
Its voice layered—both man and inhuman.
Jasen didn't wait.
He pulled two grenades from his vest.
Thunk—Thunk!
The twin explosions rocked the corridor. Leech flesh flew like tar.
Marcus shrieked and dissolved into a mass of black squirming organisms.
"Not playing your game today," Jasen said coldly.
I pulled out a phosphorous round from his pack and loaded it into his shotgun.
The leeches lunged from the hall, trying to form again.
I fired.
Flames erupted, clinging to the walls, igniting the leech mass in burning white light. The creature hissed and twisted, trying to reform—but this time it wasn't enough.
I moved quickly, bypassing the hall and deeper into the training rooms, not stopping until he was sure the creature wasn't following.
Then I exhaled hard.
"So much worse than I remember."
I take cover in a collapsed side office, checking my ammo. Low, but enough.
"Marcus was just the start," I whispered.
Because ahead?
Was the mansion.
And Wesker was waiting.
But not alone.
This time, I would be ready.