[Check Out My P4treon For +30 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][https://p4treon.com/talkfictome]
===
That grainy, yellowed Family home video was like an accidentally opened Pandora's box, releasing a cold, viscous, pure malice originating from the deepest depths of human nature.
Although the images had vanished, the innocent yet cruel smiles of those two blonde children were like branding irons seared onto everyone's retinas, refusing to fade for a long time.
Silence enveloped the entire eerie corridor.
The smell of dust and mold in the air seemed to grow even heavier, like a burial shroud wrapped around a corpse, sending a chill through everyone's hearts.
"Interesting."
The first to break the silence was Ada Wong.
She was still leaning against that cold Roman pillar, arms crossed over her chest, her posture unchanged.
But in her almond-shaped eyes, there flickered a light of keen interest, similar to that of a connoisseur admiring a piece of art that was extremely twisted yet contained a certain morbid beauty.
"Treating the abuse of weak creatures as a ritual to enhance affection. Viewing life as a toy that can be disposed of and destroyed at will. A typical combination of antisocial and histrionic personality disorders. These siblings... or rather, madness flows through the genes of this Family."
Her tone was like she was analyzing an experimental report, devoid of any personal emotion, which only made her words seem more hair-raising.
"Lunatics! They're just two perverts!" Leon's face was a bit pale, and he subconsciously touched his waist, as if only that cold metal texture could bring him a sense of security.
He had seen too much of human ugliness, but in front of that video, even the most heinous criminals seemed like naive children.
"I'd rather face an entire squad of Tyrants than deal with these kinds of people whose brains aren't right. You never know what bottom-of-the-barrel thing they'll do next that defies your imagination."
Claire pursed her lips tightly, her beautiful face filled with undisguised disgust and nausea.
As a college student, a young girl who still held goodwill and hope for the world, this kind of pure evil that took pleasure in torturing life hit her the hardest.
The silently struggling dragonfly, the swarming ants—it all stung her nerves.
"That wasn't... normal sibling affection at all," she whispered, her voice carrying a slight tremble. "Their eyes... were like... like two symbiotic monsters."
Noah didn't speak; he just reached out with his other hand and gently patted the back of Claire's hand. Then he turned his head, glanced at the screen that had returned to static noise, and curled his lip.
He didn't care how twisted the Ashford siblings' childhood was, nor did he care how perverted their psychology was.
In his view, an enemy was an enemy.
Analyzing the thought patterns of a madman was a psychiatrist's job; his job was to eliminate the madman.
He clapped his hands, the crisp sound echoing particularly abruptly in the empty corridor, pulling Leon and Claire back from their uncomfortable emotions.
"Alright, don't waste your emotions on two perverts' childhood home videos." Noah's voice was calm and powerful, instantly dispelling the suffocating atmosphere.
"We still have business to do."
He turned and cast his gaze toward the end of the corridor.
The passage there was completely sealed off by a heavy, gray metal rolling shutter door.
The door was covered in rust and scratches, looking quite old, yet it still gave off an indestructible impression.
Leon and Claire quickly adjusted their mindsets and followed. Every second here was filled with the unknown and danger; it really wasn't the time for sentimentality.
Every minute and every second here was full of unknowns and dangers, and it was indeed not a time for sentimentality.
Noah walked up to the rolling shutter door without looking for any switches or keyholes.
He flexed his wrists, making a 'crack-crack' sound of joints popping.
Then he pulled out a pair of menacing alloy knuckle dusters from a pocket on his tactical vest and unhurriedly put them on his right hand.
The surface of the knuckle dusters had a matte finish, yet they still reflected a faint, cold metallic glint. At the tip of the four knuckles were sharp pyramids, capable of easily shattering bone.
"Step back a bit," he said to the three behind him without turning his head.
Claire and Ada immediately understood and backed away, while Leon wore an expression of someone waiting to see a good show.
Noah took a deep breath, his body sinking slightly, and the muscles of his right arm bulged instantly under his black combat suit like gnarled tree roots.
Powerful strength surged through his meridians, frantically flooding into his right fist.
There were no fancy moves, just a plain and simple straight punch that contained terrifying explosive power.
"Boom—!!!"
A heavy sound, like a battering ram hitting a city gate, made the entire corridor tremble.
That seemingly incredibly sturdy rolling shutter door was like fragile tin foil under Noah's fist clad in knuckle dusters.
Centering on the fist, countless twisted dents instantly spread frantically in all directions.
The entire door caved inward, leaving a frighteningly large fist print.
Noah withdrew his fist and looked at the effect, appearing unsatisfied.
He punched again.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Three consecutive punches, each one accurately striking the exact same spot.
When the fourth punch landed, accompanied by a tooth-aching 'creak' of metal being completely torn apart, the heavy rolling shutter door finally reached its limit.
A large hole, big enough for a person to pass through, was violently blasted through the center.
Broken metal fragments flew inward like shrapnel, making a series of clattering noises.
The dust behind the door was stirred up by the violent wind of the punch, filling the air and making people cough.
Leon stared dumbfoundedly at the hole, whose edges were still emitting faint smoke, then looked at Noah, who was unhurriedly taking off the knuckle dusters and blowing the dust off them, and couldn't help but swallow hard.
"Alright, I take back what I said before. Dealing with this kind of monster is indeed much more direct than facing those two psychopaths."
A flash of surprise also crossed Ada's eyes.
She had seen all kinds of experts, but it was her first time seeing someone like Noah, who perfectly combined pure, beast-like strength with the precise control of human Martial Skills.
Noah ignored their amazement and was the first to crawl through the hole.
Behind the door was an even longer corridor with a more luxurious decoration style.
On the walls, dark red brocade wallpaper was pasted, embroidered with complex ivy-like patterns in gold thread.
The floor was covered with a thick, deep red Persian carpet, which almost completely absorbed the sound of their footsteps.
Every few meters, there was a silver candlestick on the wall. Although the candles had long since burned out, the extravagance of this place in its prime was still evident.
However, the passage leading to the core area of the mansion was blocked once again.
This time, what stood before them was a heavy steel gate.
This door was cast entirely from an alloy with a dark, bluish-black luster.
There were no extra decorations on the door, and the seams were tight, looking like the final line of defense for a bank vault.
Noah walked up and tapped it with his knuckles, producing a 'clang-clang' sound of solid metal.
He tried pushing the door with force, but it didn't budge an inch.
"Well," he shrugged, a hint of helplessness on his face, "it seems my fists won't cut it this time. Time to start our favorite game of finding the key again."
"Maybe... not." Claire's voice came from behind.
She was kneeling on the floor, placing Noah's IBM ThinkPad laptop on the carpet.
The computer screen showed a detailed 3D structural map of the island, drawn by reverse-engineering Umbrella's internal communication signals.
"I just compared and analyzed the mansion's blueprints with our known intelligence," Claire said, pointing to a blinking red dot on the screen. "All the Security Systems in this mansion, including these damn gates, are controlled by a master computer located underground. As long as we can find it..."
"...And then, connect this little baby of yours." Leon understood her meaning immediately. He leaned over to look at the screen, his eyes lighting up. "That Hacking Assistant, hack it directly from the other end to open all the doors?"
"Theoretically, it's feasible." Noah nodded. This plan was undoubtedly the most efficient and safest at the moment.
"Trant's assistant's technology and backup are enough to breach the Pentagon's firewall within ten minutes. This old System of Umbrella's from many years ago shouldn't be a problem for them."
"The problem is, how do we get underground?" Ada raised the most critical question.
She pointed to the area on the computer map marked as the "Private Residence."
"The map shows that the elevator leading to the Underground Main Control Room is in that Private Residence, but we are currently trapped in the Main Building. There's an Open-air Courtyard between the two."
The four of them gathered around the computer, falling into a brief silence.
They needed to find a way to the Private Residence.
They didn't know that while they were looking down and discussing their strategy,
In a corner of the corridor ceiling, a miniature camera disguised as a Baroque-style carved decoration was silently transmitting everything happening here in real-time to another corner of the mansion... the Ashford Family's private study.
Unlike the decay and dilapidation in other parts of the mansion, this place was cleaned until it was spotless.
The air was filled with the unique, quiet scent of expensive cedarwood furniture mixed with old book leather.
In front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows hung heavy deep-purple velvet curtains, isolating all the firelight and clamor outside.
In the very center of the room was a massive desk carved from a single piece of mahogany.
Alfred Ashford was sitting behind this desk.
He wore a well-fitted red British military uniform with several medals of unknown significance pinned to his chest, and on his feet were a pair of polished black riding boots.
His smooth blonde hair was combed meticulously.
His face bore a pale nervousness characteristic of the nobility.
He felt very irritable.
This irritability did not stem from the explosion outside that had leveled nearly half of his base.
In his eyes, those were merely minor property losses.
The source of his irritability came from a feeling of being violated.
His gaze swept across the row of large glass display cases in the corner of the room.
Inside the cases, hundreds of dolls dressed in various ornate costumes were neatly displayed.
They had the same exquisitely beautiful yet lifeless faces and pairs of hollow glass eyes.
This was Alexia's collection.
His younger sister, the only and supreme deity in his life.
In the past, he loved staying in this room because it was filled with Alexia's presence.
But today, he felt as if those hundreds of pairs of glass eyes were all staring at him in unison.
This feeling of being observed made him very uncomfortable.
He felt that sometimes, he also needed a bit of privacy.
He stood up and took an elegantly designed German PSG-1 Sniper Rifle from the weapon rack against the wall.
The cold body of the gun calmed his irritable mood slightly.
He walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
He didn't look at those profound texts on genetics, virology, or advanced mathematics.
His fingers skillfully brushed over a row of beautifully bound literary works.
First, he pushed a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' inward by half an inch.
Then he moved a copy of 'Faust' an inch to the left.
Finally, he pulled out a thin collection of Byron's poems.
"Click."
A slight sound of mechanical engagement rang out.
Accompanied by a low hum, the row of bookshelves in front of him, weighing several tons, began to silently and slowly slide to the side, revealing a modern secret chamber flickering with faint blue light behind it.
Just then, he heard more noisy sounds coming from outside.
Alfred's brow furrowed instantly.
He forced himself to calm down, saying to himself in his heart,
'I need to focus my energy on more important places. Alexia has already returned to her place... I cannot let these damn, lowly rats disturb her.'
This thought caused a flash of fanatical worship and bloodthirsty killing intent to cross his eyes.
He stepped into the secret monitoring room hidden behind the wall.
A scent characteristic of electronic equipment, mixed with ozone and cold air, rushed toward him.
The secret room wasn't large; directly opposite the door was an entire wall of monitoring screens.
Normally, there would be over a hundred high-definition cameras transmitting real-time images of every corner of the mansion, and even the entire island, to this place.
He could pull up footage from any location at any time.
But now, because of that damn bombing, most of the equipment had been destroyed, and only about forty were still working stubbornly.
His gaze fell precisely on one of the screens.
The screen clearly showed the scene of Noah and the other three gathered around a laptop in the corridor, discussing in low voices.
A cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of Alfred's mouth.
He could guess the insidious purpose of these people who had landed on the island without even trying.
Stealing intelligence, searching for Alexia, and then, like a swarm of flies smelling blood, attempting to steal the supreme glory belonging to their Ashford Family—the veronica virus.
Therefore, he decided to completely eliminate these people.
'They don't understand at all that dying in that attack would actually have been a supreme stroke of luck!' Alfred thought morbidly.
'Because any irreverent Mortal who dares to step into this temple will become the most interesting sacrifice I offer to the Queen!'
At this thought, Alfred's interest in the upcoming "hunting game" grew stronger.
He could almost imagine the scene of those people panicking and fleeing in despair within the traps and puzzles he had carefully designed, only to be executed one by one in the most elegant and artistic way, like villains in a game.
Just thinking about it sent a shiver of uncontrollable excitement through him.
Oh, and there was also that little brat who had luckily escaped from the prison.
Alfred's gaze turned to another screen.
On the screen, Steve Burnside was clutching his stomach, limping through another corridor of the mansion, exploring aimlessly like a headless fly.
"A stupid, lowly, and slightly lucky little rat," Alfred commented contemptuously.
He sat down at the console, his long fingers tapping elegantly and rapidly on the cold metal keyboard.
Strings of green code flashed across the screen.
Finally, he entered the last instruction:
>ACTIVATE_PROGRAM: LICKER_B_HUNTING_MODE
>
>TARGET_ID: PRISONER_0712_STEVE.B
>
>PRIORITY: LOW
>
>OBJECTIVE: TOY. PLAY. TERRORIZE.
He pressed the enter key.
With a crisp confirmation sound,
In a biological incubation tank deep underground in the mansion, several glass jars filled with green culture fluid drained instantly.
Several monsters with sickly yellow skin covered in red blood vessels and only one giant claw slowly opened their pupil-less eyes.
Alfred looked at the brown-haired youth on the screen who was still completely unaware of this, a cruel and joyful smile appearing on his face.
The game has begun.
===
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 125 on my patreon, go check it out
exclusive 18+ character images, and early chapters, please visit my Patreon. Thanks for your support!
p4treon.com/talkfictome
if you want more updates == supports with power stones
Every 40 Power Stones == Bonus Chapter
every three 5-star reviews == Bonus Chapter