Flames roared skyward.
The blaze lit up the faces of frenzied believers.
It also cast light on Miles Upsher's face, twisted in horror and shock.
Screams and howls echoed.
The priest, strung up on a cross, writhed as flames swallowed him.
Miles couldn't connect with the priest's madness.
Did the priest, obsessed with becoming a god through fire, regret it now?
This was the "witness."
Here, in this den of terror and cruelty, the priest saw Miles—a random outsider—as some divine apostle, tasked to watch his "ascension."
A sick, absurd feeling gripped Miles.
To normal eyes, this night of twisted bloodshed was just a delusional game for the unhinged.
If not for Murkoff…
They could've gotten real help.
Now, Miles had to expose the ugly truth.
His notebook brimmed with evidence.
The DV camera in his hand captured this brutal, terrifying night.
The truth needed to break free.
The priest's screams faded.
God or not, his soul was free.
Miles grabbed the elevator key the priest left for him.
Outside, the Haier brothers—relentless hunters—opened the church door at the priest's command.
Miles "witnessed" the priest's end.
He also saw the hospital's evil.
Time to go.
Crunch—click!
The old elevator's gate shut. Miles rode it down.
Blood dripped from his hands, streaking the DV, pooling on the floor.
The creaking elevator hit the first floor.
But—
The gate didn't open.
The elevator paused, then kept dropping!
"What the—?"
Miles panicked, but steeled himself, ready to bolt.
After everything that night, he couldn't let his guard down until he was out of Giant Mountain.
Crunch—click!
Finally, the elevator hit the hospital's deepest level.
Stepping out, opening a door, Miles muttered, "Holy… hell."
A long underground passage, stark white like snow!
Bright lights made it blinding.
Piles of experimental gear and drug barrels cluttered the space.
At the corridor's end, a massive Murkoff Corporation logo marked an electric door.
This was Giant Mountain Psych Hospital's ultimate secret—
A cruel underground research lab.
Tramp, tramp, tramp…
Miles ran, like he had all night.
He vaulted supplies, slipped through the electric door, splashing through blood puddles with quick steps!
But—
Whoosh—BAM!
A sudden blow to the head sent him flying, crashing hard!
The impact felt like a truck. Miles heard a crack—his leg bone?
Struggling on the ground, he raised the DV, flicking on night vision.
In the snowy passage, a dark, misty figure floated.
Walrider!
Run!
Ignoring the pain, Miles gasped, scrambled up, and bolted back!
But the electric door opened!
BANG!
A beefy arm smashed through, grabbing him!
[Pig, pig… I can… smell you…]
The terrifying fat man, chasing him since the start, had followed him here!
"Ugh… ugh…"
The fat man's grip tightened on Miles' throat, suffocation weakening his fight.
But then—
Whoosh—BAM!!!
Miles' throat loosened!
He collapsed with a thud.
In a daze—
The fat man flew upward, like an invisible force tossed him like a rag doll!
Bang! Bang!
BAM!
Blood sprayed!
The fat man's roars filled the passage, but they were powerless!
Through the DV, Miles saw Walrider pummeling him, snapping his head off with a crack!
No one could stop Walrider!
"Huff—huff—huff—"
Miles leaned on the wall, barely standing.
No time to linger.
While Walrider dealt with the fat man, he needed an exit—now.
Through the white passage, he pushed a heavy alloy door. A spacious office with blood-smeared blast-proof glass appeared.
Not the exit.
But—
As he turned to leave—
An old voice croaked from the office!
"I know… I should've died ages ago, but luck kept me here… outliving sin."
Someone?!!
No—a normal person!
Gulp!
Miles traced the voice to the glass, wiping blood off with his sleeve.
Through faint red smears, an old man in a wheelchair spoke:
"Billy saw me as a father, so… I'm the last one left."
Billy?
Hiss—
Miles remembered.
Experiment #179, "Project Walrider," named Billy as the only patient compatible with Walrider.
Click.
Silently, Miles aimed the DV at the old man.
The man wheeled to the Murkoff logo on the wall, looking up:
"A warning about nanotechnology—that's the Murkoff logo's meaning."
"We've had ultra-micro nanorobots for decades but couldn't control them."
"Years ago, we cracked it through relentless research."
"Human cells as nanofactories, producing atoms, letting the mind control the body via mind-body therapy."
Mind-body therapy?
Miles scoffed.
Their "therapy" was sadistic human experiments—near-death torment, extreme fear, breaking victims inside and out.
All so Murkoff could harvest a "ghost"—a humanoid swarm of nanorobots, a brutal weapon.
"But the result… you see it," the old man sighed.
"We were wrong. Using the mentally ill to make uncontrollable weapons."
"We have to stop him—kill Billy, cut his life support, make this right."
"As long as he's alive, no one leaves."
Miles stayed silent.
You'll face your judgment.
No question!
The root of Giant Mountain's horrors? This wheelchair-bound old man, outliving his crimes.
As a journalist, Miles couldn't judge.
But he had to expose Murkoff's sins.
Give the innocent answers. Make the guilty pay.
Broken, on the edge, he'd escape.
For the truth, he'd do anything!
Woo—!!!
Woo—!!!
Woo—!!!
Alarms blared in the lab!
The final escape was on!
BANG!
Miles charged, running as hard as when he first hit the mountain!
Through the office's opposite door, a test site appeared!
A two-story life-support rig loomed in the center, surrounded by six glass spheres!
Five were empty. One, near the door, held a skeletal patient—pinned in place.
Tubes kept him alive. Eyes wide, face blank, twisted in the glass.
Billy, Walrider's carrier!
And now—
Billy sensed Miles' intent to kill him, unleashing Walrider in a frenzied chase!
BANG!!!
Miles flew, slamming the ground!
Pain be damned, he grabbed the DV and sprinted for the supply warehouse!
Alarms screamed!
Walrider's rustling roar—like a devil's whisper—chased him!
Tap tap tap—
Boom, boom, BANG—
Miles wove through nutrient silos, leaped yellow railings, climbed supply piles, feet pounding iron plates!
Behind him—
Walrider floated, relentless, blasting through railings, scattering supplies, its inhuman roar in his ears!
Squeak—click!
Miles cranked a nutrient valve on the second-floor console, hearing Walrider's roar!
Glancing back—
Walrider charged in the DV's viewfinder!
BANG!
"AAAH—!!!"
A hit sent Miles over the console railing!
Quick hands grabbed the rail!
He dangled, swaying!
Blood poured from his severed fingers, slipping his grip!
"Damn it… DAMN IT…!!!"
Deep breath—
No turning back. Miles jumped from the second-floor console!
BANG! Snap!
"GAAAH—F-Fuck! F-Fuck!!!"
A crack and searing leg pain made him scream. Dragging his broken leg, he limped to another valve!
Lucky break—
Walrider, weakened by the closed valve, slowed slightly.
Miles shut the second valve!
Walrider flickered, faltering, its form glitching!
Victory was close!
Back to the test site!
Miles clung to railings, hauling his broken body to the central facility's top.
Unplug the main power, hit the button, and Billy's done!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Elbow-smashed the electrical box open!
Miles' trembling, broken hand gripped the main power cord—and yanked!
Chila!!!
Sparks flew!
"Got it…"
Buzz—BAM!!!
A massive force hit!
Pain stabbed his ribs!
Miles flew off the facility's top!
Time slowed.
Was it a trick of the mind?
Miles swore he saw Walrider without the DV—a skeletal form in black mist, claws raised.
Whoosh—BAM!!!
Like a snapped kite string!
A loud crash!
Miles slammed the concrete floor!
His head buzzed!
Throat tight, he coughed blood!
Vision blurred, ears rang, breathing choked—air wouldn't come.
Buzz—BANG!
His body hit a railing.
Buzz—BOOM!
Smashed to the floor.
Buzz—BANG!
Thrown to the console, head cracking the corner, blood flooding his eyes.
Miles curled up, blood-soaked, broken.
But he clutched the DV tight.
"Huff—uh—huff—"
His ragged breaths echoed.
Alarms wailed in the test site.
Nearby—
Walrider loomed, ready for the kill.
But then!
A bloodied hand reached the console.
A hand missing a ring finger.
A hand over the main control button.
The hand of fearless journalist Miles Upsher.
[NOOOOO—!!!]
Walrider roared, human-like!
Then—
BANG!!!
Miles slammed the button!
A muffled explosion!
Billy, in the glass sphere, burst into blood mist. Walrider, mid-charge, vanished instantly!!!
It was over…
Miles, barely conscious, dragged his shattered body toward the door by sheer will.
Fall.
Stand.
Fall again.
Stand again.
The blue door was ahead.
Miles reached to open it.
But—
BANG!
The door burst open from outside.
A squad of armed soldiers stood there.
In the center—
The old man in the wheelchair.
"Thanks, kid, for cleaning up my mess."
His smile twisted, eyes glinting darkly:
"But now, you're the mess."
He waved.
Snap!
Black gun barrels aimed at Miles!
BANG!!!