"Shit, I died again, didn't I?"
A calm, disembodied voice responded.
[You did. And why, exactly, must you insist on doing that?]
"It was cool, though. Using absolutely everything I had to take out the final boss," the gamer said, a grin already forming.
[Really? Well, if you're happy. Shall we continue to the next game?]
"Hmm, alright, but no more Souls games. I need a change of pace. Oh! I want to play Resident Evil!"
[Understood. Now, please distribute your stats.]
A familiar transparent interface shimmered before him, showing his base character parameters:
==={Status}===
Name—Theodore Mayer
Level 10
Job Gamer
STR 1
VIT 1
AGI 1
DEX 1
INT 1
LUK 1
Free Stats 20
==={}===
"Twenty free points! I level up two times. Good."
Theodore Mayer tapped his chin, calculating which stats would best allow him to survive—and thrive—against a zombie horde.
He didn't need to be strong, he needed to be fast and accurate.
"I'll put nine points in Agility, nine in Dexterity, and the remaining two in Vitality."
The interface updated instantly, a pair of crisp chimes signaling his newfound power:
| Name | Theodore Mayer |
| Lv. | 10 |
| Job | Gamer |
| STR | 1 |
| VIT | 3 |
| AGI | 10 |
| DEX | 10 |
| INT | 1 |
| LUK | 1 |
| Free Stats | 20 |
[Agility reaches 1st threshold]
[You gain Skill: Wind Walk]
[Effect: +50% speed]
[Duration: 60 seconds]
[Cooldown: 120 seconds]
[Dexterity reaches 1st threshold]
[You gain Skill: Eagle Eyes]
[Effect: +50% precision]
[Duration: 60 seconds]
[Cooldown: 120 seconds]
"Perfect," Theodore whispered, a predator's smile creeping onto his face. "Alright, send me in."
[Which one of the RE series would you prefer?]
"Hmm, Resident Evil Village. I want to smash Dimitrescu. If you know what I mean, hehe."
[...What a pervert. Very well.]
With a sudden, sickening lurch—a familiar feeling he was already growing used to—Theodore Mayer's vision warped.
The sterile white glow of the interface vanished, replaced by the chilling scent of pine and frozen dread.
He had arrived.
XxxxX
Ethan had come to this isolated, freezing village because they had taken his daughter, Rose.
Despite the overwhelming cold and paralyzing fear that gnawed at his gut, he pressed forward.
He had to save her.
"Wait for me, Rose. I will save you,"
He muttered, his voice hoarse.
As Ethan stepped cautiously around a dilapidated shack, a barrage of gunfire echoed through the oppressive silence.
He immediately crouched and ran toward the sound—a desperate action spurred by hope that it might be helpful, or at least a distraction.
He found a small clearing where a fierce skirmish was already over.
A young man, barely older than twenty, stood over a half-dozen slumped figures.
These weren't normal people; their skin was ash-gray, their limbs unnaturally twisted, and their eyes glowed with mindless malice.
"Hahaha!"
The young man laughed hysterically while reloading with practiced ease.
The weapon he wielded was a magnificent, glinting Desert Eagle, and he used it with impossible precision.
He finished his last clip, dusting off his trench coat.
"Hmm, what can I do for you?"
The young man asked, turning to face Ethan.
His expression was completely straight—casual, as if he hadn't just executed a host of grotesque villagers.
"Uh..."
Ethan stammered, raising his trembling hands slightly.
He didn't know what to say.
His mind struggled to process the calm killer, the monstrous corpses, and the raw power of the handgun all at once.
"Who are you? What are these things?"
Theodore simply smirked, tapping his weapon.
"The name's Theodore Mayer, and they are just a bunch of spore infested gang."
He coughed in his hand a little and continued.
"You look like you need some help, right? We need to talk about that big castle up the hill."