"Clang—"
A colossal, dull metallic crash made the entire platform shake violently.
The long descent finally came to an abrupt halt.
The grating sound of gears meshing and chains dragging, which had been so jarring, also disappeared, plunging the world into an eerie, hair-raising silence.
Above, there was bottomless darkness.
The only light source came from ahead.
A massive, heavy steel gate, gleaming with cold metallic luster, slowly rose in the silence.
Blinding, pale white light poured out from behind the gate, casting five distorted black shadows from the five vigilant figures.
"Finally... we've reached the bottom."
Steve's trembling murmur broke the oppressive silence.
He instinctively took a step forward, wanting to see what the world behind the gate looked like.
But a hand, like an iron clamp, pressed precisely and powerfully onto his shoulder.
Steve spun his head around, meeting Noah's eyes, which appeared exceptionally deep and calm in the light.
"Don't be impulsive."
Noah's voice was low but clearly reached everyone's ears.
Almost the instant his words fell.
Leon and Ada, like two phantoms merged with shadows, silently positioned themselves on either side of the slowly rising gate.
Leon's shotgun was pointed slightly downwards, its dark muzzle aimed at any potential threat inside the door.
Ada, meanwhile, raised her tmp submachine gun, its stock firmly braced against her shoulder, her gaze fixed on the upper part of the doorframe.
Their positions were perfectly coordinated, forming a crossfire network with no blind spots.
Claire, behind Noah, quickly knelt on one knee.
Her black mp5 submachine gun was held steadily against her chest, her bright blue eyes calmly observing the expanding pale white space through the sight.
Steve was utterly stunned.
His mouth hung open, his brown eyes filled with incredible shock.
No commands.
No communication.
Not even a glance.
These four people, like precisely programmed killing machines, had spontaneously formed a near-perfect tactical assault team in just a few seconds.
That unspoken understanding, that professionalism, that innate control over combat that permeated their very bones, sent shivers down Steve's spine.
This...!
His heart, which had been pounding wildly from fear and tension, was now completely ignited by a much stronger emotion called "admiration" and "yearning."
"I... I want to join you too!"
He blurted it out, his voice sharp and comical with excitement.
"This is truly... so cool!"
"Keep it down."
Noah's voice came from beside him, still calm.
"Do you know what's behind the door?"
Steve's flushed face instantly turned pale again.
He shook his head violently, then, as if remembering something, immediately scrambled on all fours, imitating Claire, and crouched in a corner, shrinking his rather cumbersome body into a ball.
He didn't even dare to breathe loudly.
Noah glanced at the fully raised massive gate, then gently nodded at Leon.
Leon understood.
He didn't rush in immediately. Instead, he pressed his body lower, extended his shotgun forward at a tricky angle, and then slowly and gently pushed a metal oil drum behind the door to the side.
"Thump."
The oil drum rolled half a turn, emitting a slight sound.
Nothing happened.
No frantic roars as expected.
No sudden attacks from hidden places.
The space behind the door remained deathly silent.
Leon's eyebrows twitched slightly. He turned his head and gave a "safe" tactical hand signal to the people behind him.
The five then filed in.
This was a vast underground space.
The high ceiling was covered with rusty, massive pipes and intricate metal cables.
The air was thick with a heavy, cold scent of engine oil and rust, mixed with a hint of damp mildew.
The concrete floor was covered in dried, dark brown stains, whether from oil or long-congealed blood, was unclear.
A few old explosion-proof lights hanging from the ceiling flickered, emitting dim and pallid light, cutting the entire space into eerie, alternating patterns of light and shadow.
The feeling here struck Leon, Ada, Claire, and Noah with an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
It was too similar to the underground facility beneath the Raccoon City Police Department, which was also filled with death and despair.
That oppressive and cold feeling, as if abandoned by the world, was almost identical.
To the right of the space was a large area enclosed by thick wire mesh, with a huge iron mesh rolling gate tightly shut.
Behind the wire mesh, one could vaguely see a dozen or so massive oil drums stacked together, and some large, unidentifiable mechanical parts.
At the far end of the space was a huge metal shelf, haphazardly stocked with wrenches, hammers, welding machines, and other repair tools.
On either side of the shelf were two identical, heavy metal doors.
This was like a game crossroads, waiting for players to make a choice.
"Go left."
Noah's voice broke the silence.
His gaze fell on the door to the left.
It seemed darker and quieter there than on the right.
No one objected.
Leon led the way, carefully turning the cold, rough, circular doorknob.
"Creak—"
A piercing metallic friction sound echoed particularly clearly in the empty space.
The door was pushed open a crack.
Behind the door was a small room.
It looked like a worker's lounge.
In the center of the room was a long wooden table covered in dust, with several overturned chairs scattered around it.
The trash can in the corner was stuffed with various fast-food boxes and crumpled soda cans.
And right next to that wooden table.
Three figures wearing dirty blue work clothes and yellow hard hats were swaying back and forth slowly in place, their backs to the door, as if sleepwalking.
They seemed unaware of the movement at the door.
Leon's eyes instantly turned cold and sharp.
He was about to raise his shotgun.
But Noah reached out, gently pressed his shoulder, and then slowly shook his head.
Leon glanced at the three harmless ordinary zombies, then at the small room which contained nothing but a few broken tables and chairs.
He understood Noah's meaning.
No value in exploring.
No need to waste bullets.
He gently closed the door again.
"Creak—"
That sound seemed to finally alarm the "residents" in the room.
A chilling, low growl and the rustling sound of fingernails scraping the wooden table faintly emanated from behind the door.
But it quickly returned to silence.
Steve's back was completely drenched in cold sweat.
He had seen it clearly just now.
When one of the figures in work clothes turned around, half of its face had rotted away, revealing stark white bones.
"Let's go."
Noah's voice pulled him back from that brief moment of terror.
Everyone turned and walked towards the right door.
This time, Steve suddenly mustered his courage.
"Th-this time, let me!"
Steve's youthful face was filled with a determined plea.
He didn't want to be a burden who only hid behind others anymore.
He wanted to prove that he was useful too.
Noah looked at his eager eyes and was silent for a moment.
Claire, beside him, gently nudged him with her elbow.
"Be careful." Noah sighed, nodding.
"Don't worry!" A brilliant smile instantly bloomed on Steve's face.
He took a deep breath, and mimicking Leon's earlier action, he suddenly kicked open the right door! (Leon:???)
Behind the door was an even hotter and more humid space.
Huge, rusty boilers occupied most of the room, and thick pipes snaked and coiled across the walls and ceiling like giant pythons.
The air was filled with scalding steam and an indescribable stench of decaying flesh.
"Roar—!"
Almost at the exact moment the door was kicked open.
Two rotting figures, also wearing blue work clothes, suddenly lunged out from behind a massive boiler!
Their speed was much faster than the three in the lounge earlier!
"Ah!"
Steve let out a short shriek, startled by the sudden attack.
He fumbled to raise the two beretta pistols Noah had given him.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
He closed his eyes and randomly pulled the triggers.
The bullets flew God knows where.
And the two foul-smelling zombies had already lunged in front of him!
"Calm down! Aim for the head!"
Claire's clear and steady voice, like a clap of thunder, exploded in his ears!
Steve suddenly opened his eyes.
He saw a corpse-spotted claw fiercely raking towards his face!
He instinctively leaned back.
The reeking claw whistled past, almost grazing his nose!
The instinct to survive overcame the deep-seated fear.
He abruptly aimed his gun at the ugly, half-rotted head of one of the zombies.
"Bang!"
A gunshot.
The zombie's head, like a smashed watermelon, instantly exploded into a disgusting red and white pulp.
Putrid dark red blood and grayish-white brain matter splattered everywhere.
However, before he could recover from this bloody victory.
The other zombie had already opened its foul-smelling maw, oozing black viscous fluid, and bit fiercely at his neck!
Steve's pupils dilated instantly.
It's over... "Crack—"
A crisp sound of bone shattering echoed.
A gleaming tactical dagger, from an incredibly tricky angle, precisely pierced through the zombie's lower jaw, impaling its entire skull!
It was Leon.
He had appeared beside Steve at some point.
He expressionlessly pulled out the dagger, wiped it on the still-twitching body of the zombie, and then reinserted it into the sheath on his left shoulder.
The entire process was fluid, swift like an elegant illusion.
Steve collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
His body, face, and hair were all covered in nauseating zombie fluid.
He looked at Leon's cool profile, as if he had just done something insignificant, and then at Noah's and Ada's calm, unruffled expressions not far away.
A huge sense of powerlessness and frustration instantly overwhelmed him.
So, this is the real gap?
The group passed through this Boiler Room, filled with steam and the stench of death.
At the end of the Boiler Room, they saw another bizarrely shaped giant lion head sculpture, with a blood-red gem embedded in the lion's mouth.
The sculpture looked out of place with the surrounding industrial environment, appearing strange and abrupt.
Rounding the sculpture, there was an old-fashioned freight elevator that looked like it had seen better days.
The elevator slowly carried them upwards.
When the elevator doors opened again.
Outside was still a silent, empty corridor.
"What the hell?"
Leon finally couldn't help but complain.
His face, which usually carried a hint of cynicism, was filled with disappointment and confusion.
"I got all excited for this?"
"Alfred might be held up by something."
Ada's voice calmly stated. Her obsidian-like eyes scanned the equally clean, almost excessively so, corridor, analyzing: "He probably can't spare any attention for us right now."
Noah and Claire exchanged glances, both seeing a hint of agreement in the other's eyes.
That madman Alfred had made such a grand show, bringing them deep underground, only to arrange for a few ordinary zombies that weren't even an appetizer.
This was completely illogical.
Unless, as Ada said.
Something more important and more captivating had happened on his end.
"What do you mean?"
Steve's somewhat bewildered voice came from beside them.
He had just recovered from the immense fear of a brush with death and completely failed to understand what these people were hinting at.
Noah turned to him, looking at his bewildered expression, and simply shrugged lightly.
"Literally."
...Alfred indeed couldn't spare any attention for them.
He was currently standing in the Secret Study, filled with the scent of cedarwood and old books.
Of the dozen or so massive surveillance screens in front of him, only one was still lit.
The screen showed the lonely figure of Jill Valentine, trapped in that enormous and magnificent Mirror Palace.
Alfred was not looking at the screen.
A morbid, enraptured smile was on his face, and he was tilting his ear, as if listening to some beautiful music.
"Oh... yes... yes..."
He murmured softly, his voice gentle as if speaking sweet nothings to his dearest lover.
"My dear, perfect, Alexia..."
"Just now, she told me... she wants to personally turn that dirty woman who intruded into our Secret Garden..."
"Into... a most perfect, artistic specimen..."
A childlike, innocent yet incredibly evil look of ecstatic joy appeared on his face.
"This is truly... wonderful!"
"This is truly the most beautiful plan I've ever heard!"
He spread his arms, like an opera singer about to take the stage, and elegantly spun a circle in place.
Then, with light, skipping steps, he left the monitoring room that had witnessed countless of his insane plans.
He was going back to his bedroom.
He would greet his dearest sister with the most perfect demeanor and present her with this unparalleled bloody feast.