The snowmobile ran across the snowfield like a steel beast, leaving the dead base far behind.
The powerful roar of the engine was torn to pieces in the bitter cold wind.
The beam of the headlights pierced through the dancing snow, carving two tracks leading to the unknown on the vast white earth.
Noah sat in the back row, his blood, which had been boiling due to the battle, gradually cooling down.
The entire world, except for the sound of the wind and the engine, was left with only a monotonous, oppressive pure white.
Just then, he suddenly felt a very slight commotion coming from the Tactical Backpack on his back.
It was a fine, scratching sensation of small claws pulling at the fabric.
A tiny, furry life was cautiously trying to burrow into the main compartment from a mesh pocket on the side of the backpack.
It was the little white mouse that had escaped from the lounge.
This little fellow had actually followed them without anyone noticing and had quietly slipped into his backpack when they boarded the snowmobile.
Noah could even imagine the little thing in the dark backpack, looking at its new environment with its beady black eyes, both wary and curious.
Sherry would surely like this little fellow, who had also experienced hardships but still worked hard to survive.
Noah smiled slightly.
He would treat it as a small gift prepared for her in advance.
He withdrew his thoughts and let the little life settle down in a warm and safe corner of his backpack.
(Regarding this diary-writing mouse, there are many bugs in the game; the mouse's fur is sometimes black, sometimes brown, and sometimes white. Here, the encounter in Antarctica shall be the standard.)
...While Noah and his group were still trudging across the ice fields.
Albert Wesker had already arrived at the Ashford Family Main Research Facility standing on the Antarctic continent.
The black transport plane he was on was currently parked quietly on a hidden hangar platform on the top floor of the research facility.
He walked alone in the empty and dead corridors of the research facility.
Beneath his feet was a polished black marble floor.
On the walls on both sides hung oil paintings that were exquisitely painted yet exuded an indescribable sense of eeriness and oppression.
Outside the tall floor-to-ceiling windows was the never-ending blizzard.
Everything here felt familiar to him.
He pushed open a heavy double wooden door carved with intricate patterns and walked in.
It was an immensely grand hall filled with a classical style.
In the center, a wide staircase covered with a dark red carpet spiraled up to the circular corridor on the second floor.
At the end of the hall was a huge floor-standing grandfather clock; the cold pendulum had long since stopped swinging.
The familiar deer head specimen on the wall was silently watching this uninvited intruder with its hollow glass eyes.
Arklay Mountains, Spencer Mansion.
The place where he had spent his entire youth, personally pushed James Marcus into the abyss, and opened the Pandora's box of the t-virus with William Birkin.
Everything here, whether it was the layout of the building, the style of the decorations, or even the smell in the air—a mixture of stale wood and disinfectant—was exactly the same as the mansion in his memories.
Wesker slowly took off the sunglasses from his face, his crimson slit pupils flashing with an inhuman light in the dim light.
"Truly a nostalgic scene..."
He said in a low voice, using a tone that was almost like a chant.
The voice stirred a faint echo in the empty hall.
That old fellow Spencer's preference for this mansion had reached an almost pathological level.
Not only did he build one in the Arklay Mountains, but he also had Alexander Ashford replicate another one at the end of the world.
One was used to showcase his supreme power, while the other was used to bury the final glory of the Ashford Family.
How ironic.
Wesker let out a soft sneer.
He looked up, his gaze piercing through layers of floorboards, as if he could directly see the queen who had been frozen in the deepest part of the research facility, sleeping for fifteen years.
Alexia.
He admitted her Genius, but her era had passed.
This world was about to welcome a new god.
And he, Albert Wesker, was the only chosen one... Meanwhile.
At the very bottom of the Antarctic Transport Base.
At the bottom of the bottomless maintenance shaft where Nosferatu was imprisoned.
"Cough... cough cough..."
A violent coughing sound, as if he were about to cough out his lungs, broke the silence here.
Alfred Ashford was lying amidst a pile of cold, foul-smelling trash and discarded parts.
His right shoulder had been blasted with a gruesome blood hole by Jill's shot.
Blood had already stained his ridiculous and tattered white dress red.
Falling from a height of dozens of meters, any ordinary person would have already been smashed into a pulp.
But he was lucky enough to fall onto a large bag of discarded textiles.
Although he hadn't died, his life force was rapidly fading away.
Blood loss, intense pain, and the biting cold were like three greedy poisonous snakes, crazily gnawing at his last bit of life.
His consciousness began to blur.
Everything before his eyes was covered with a layer of lingering bloody afterimages.
"Alexia..."
He squeezed a broken and weak name from his throat.
No... I can't die here... Filthy rats have broken into our castle... They are going to hurt Alexia... I must... go protect her!
This thought supported his consciousness, which was about to be swallowed by darkness!
An unimaginable force erupted from deep within his frail body!
Using his uninjured left hand to support himself on the ground, he dragged his broken body out of the cold pile of trash inch by inch.
He bared his teeth in pain, the muscles on his face twisting together due to extreme agony, making his face—which already had eerie makeup on it—look even more gruesome.
He dragged a leg that had been broken from the fall and limped toward a wall deep in the shaft.
That wall looked no different from the surrounding metal walls.
But Alfred reached out his hand, which was stained with blood and grime, and pressed down hard on an inconspicuous protrusion on the wall.
"Click... hum..."
A dull sound of gears engaging and turning rang out.
The wall in front of him slowly slid open to both sides, revealing a dark secret passage just wide enough for one person to pass through.
At the end of the passage sat a small, dusty rail car.
This was the underground rail system specially built by Alexander Ashford back then to facilitate the transport of secret materials between the two bases.
Alfred used the last of his strength to climb onto the train.
He collapsed onto the cold seat, gasping for breath; every breath pulled at the wounds all over his body, bringing waves of heart-wrenching pain.
With a trembling hand, he pressed the start button.
The train gave a slight vibration and then quietly slid into the seemingly endless deep darkness.
The train traveled rapidly through the underground tunnel.
Outside the window, there was only a monotonous darkness constantly flying backward.
Alfred's consciousness became more and more blurred.
He felt as if he had returned to fifteen years ago, to that turning point of fate that changed his life.
He saw how his sister, Alexia, who was hailed as the Family Genius, had surpassed all his efforts with such ease.
He saw the undisguised jealousy and greed in the eyes of the man named William Birkin when he visited their laboratory.
He saw how his father, that weak and incompetent man Alexander Ashford, treated the two siblings as cold tools for the revival of the Family glory.
"Father, you were wrong..."
"The glory of the Ashford Family does not need your hand to be revived..."
"Alexia... she is the... true god..."
He murmured neurotically and repeatedly in a voice only he could hear.
Finally.
The train slowly came to a stop.
The doors opened, and a familiar smell, a mixture of disinfectant and low-temperature refrigerant, rushed in.
The Main Research Facility had been reached.
Alfred fell off the train, scrambling and crawling.
He didn't even bother to look at his surroundings; he just crawled toward that sacred hall he had guarded for fifteen years, step by step, following the route already branded into his Soul.
A shocking, winding bloodstain was left on the ground.
He finally came before a huge circular isolation door made of high-strength alloy.
He pressed his pale palm hard onto the scanner beside the door.
"Beep... Palm print confirmed... Alfred Ashford... Permission confirmed..."
A cold electronic synthesized voice sounded.
The heavy alloy door slowly rose upward.
Behind the door was a huge circular laboratory filled with a futuristic sci-fi feel.
And in the very center of the laboratory, a huge cylindrical Cultivation Tank, like a crystal coffin, stood there quietly.
Pale blue life-support liquid filled the entire Cultivation Tank.
A girl as beautiful as an angel was floating quietly in the liquid, completely unclothed.
Her eyes were closed, her posture peaceful, and her long golden hair drifted gently in the liquid like seaweed.
Her appearance remained forever at the age of fifteen.
Alexia Ashford.
Like the Sleeping Beauty in a fairy tale who was cursed and fell into an eternal sleep.
Alfred's eyes showed an almost obsessive, fanatical love.
He struggled to crawl to the console in front of the Cultivation Tank.
His vision was completely blurred.
He could only rely on instinct, using the last trace of strength in his entire body to slam his palm onto the button marked in red as "Emergency Awakening Program"!
"Vroom—!!!!"
All the lights in the laboratory turned a piercing red in an instant!
A sharp alarm sounded throughout the entire underground space!
Inside the Cultivation Tank, the pale blue life-support liquid began to drain rapidly at a speed visible to the naked eye!
As the liquid level dropped.
That perfect body, which had slept for fifteen years, slowly landed at the bottom of the Cultivation Tank.
Her eyelids twitched slightly.
Then, they snapped open!
What beautiful eyes those were.
The golden pupils were like two of the purest ambers.
But in the depths of that amber burned a cold fire capable of burning the entire world to ashes!
"Click..."
The door of the Cultivation Tank slowly opened.
Alexia walked out step by step, her body bare.
She saw her brother lying on the steps in front of the console, covered in blood, his breath of life already so weak that it could be extinguished at any moment.
Alfred struggled to lift his head.
He looked at the perfect god in his heart walking toward him.
On his face, which was as pale as paper due to blood loss, blossomed a satisfied and brilliant smile.
"Alexia..."
He used the last of his life to softly call her name.
Alexia slowly knelt down.
There was only a look of sorrow on her face.
She stretched out her flawless white hands and gently pulled her dying brother into her embrace.
She stroked his golden hair, which was tangled with sweat and blood.
Her voice, like the most melodious cello, slowly rang out in the empty and cold laboratory.
A lullaby filled with sadness and fate was softly sung from her mouth.
The melody was exactly the same as the one from the Music Box in the castle on Rockfort Island:
"There was a friendly;"
(Once there was a friendly;)
"but naive King;"
(but a naive King;)
"who wed a very nasty Queen."
(who married a very wicked Queen.)
"The King was loved but;"
(The King was beloved, but;)
"the Queen was feared."
(the Queen was feared.)
"She had a secret kept from the King;"
(She kept a secret from the King;)
"to rule the Kingdom as her own."
(to rule the Kingdom as her own.)
"The king knew not,"
(The King did not know,)
"his bride seemed good as gold."
(his bride seemed as good as gold.)
"Till one day;"
(Until one day;)
"strolling in his court;"
(while strolling in his court;)
"an arrow pierced the kind King's heart;"
(an arrow pierced the kind King's heart;)
"he lost his life and his lady love."
(he lost his life and his lady love.)
As she sang, she combed through her brother's messy hair with her fingers, her movements as gentle as if she were handling a most precious piece of porcelain.
Alfred's breathing gradually stopped.
The smile on his face, however, remained frozen forever.
Alexia's singing did not pause for a moment, nor did it tremble in the slightest.
There was only a deep, unshakeable sadness.
————————
In the Darkside Chronicles version, Alexia directly strangled her brother with a tentacle as punishment for waking her early.
In another version, he died in Alexia's arms due to heavy injuries; the original version of Alexia is more consistent with the original setting.
Alexia's psychological age has always remained at 15. Although her IQ surpasses ordinary people, for a 'hothouse flower,' her brother was the only person she relied on, aside from her father who treated the siblings as tools.
Even if Alexia considers herself the Queen Ant, the brother she grew up with would be seen as a special existence, like a loyal guard by the Queen's side. As seen from the CG, the bond between the siblings is deep, and their representative theme music runs throughout.
This feeling wouldn't change between her sleep and awakening. So in the old version, when the brother was heavily injured and released Alexia, she would sadly embrace his head, stroke his hair, and urgently seek revenge.
The novel follows Alexia's feelings for her brother.