Chapter 33: Chris's Solo Investigation

July 24, 1998, 3:00 AM, Arklay Mountains.

Torrential rain hammered the dense jungle, the leaves rustling loudly under the downpour. The muddy ground was slick and difficult to traverse, and the heavy scent of blood mixed with the dampness of the rain, tightly enveloping the mountain forest that had long since been swallowed by death.

Chris held his Assault Rifle, moving quickly through the thick forest in a crouch. His back was already soaked with rain and cold sweat, and his heavy breathing was masked by the sound of the rain. Only his taut nerves constantly reminded him of the lethal danger surrounding him.

A few minutes ago, the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team had just arrived in the Arklay Mountains. Before they could find any clues about the missing Bravo Team, they were ambushed by a pack of Zombie Dogs.

Those monsters had shedding fur and rotting flesh, with foul-smelling saliva dripping from their fangs. Their speed was astonishing, scattering the entire team in an instant.

In the chaos, he became completely separated from Jill, Barry, and Wesker. All he could hear were the shouts of his teammates, the roars of the monsters, and the thunder of firearms. Finally, he was left alone, forced to flee deep into the dense forest.

He pulled the trigger, accurately shooting the Zombie Dogs pursuing him from behind. The bullets pierced the monsters' skulls, knocking them to the ground, but more roars came from all around; there was simply no end to them.

Chris didn't dare linger in the fight. Relying on a faint sense of the terrain, he ran desperately toward the Spencer Mansion standing in the distance amidst the rainy night.

It was the only building in this mountain forest where he could temporarily escape the danger.

Finally, he rushed to the main entrance of the Spencer Mansion, pushed open the heavy wooden door, and quickly turned back to brace himself against it, shutting out the barking of the Zombie Dogs.

Only then did he dare to stop. He leaned against the door, gasping for air, his arms holding the gun slightly aching. Rainwater dripped from his hair and splashed onto the floor.

The main hall of the Spencer Mansion was dim, with only the faint light from outside illuminating the dust and cobwebs on the floor. The air was filled with a decaying, musty smell, along with a faint scent of blood that felt even more oppressive than the atmosphere in the forest.

The hall was empty and deathly silent, without a single human voice. Wesker, Jill, and Barry were nowhere to be found. Only the cold marble floor, mottled walls, and the spiraling staircase exuded an indescribable eeriness.

"Captain Wesker? Jill? Barry?" Chris called out in a low voice. His words echoed in the vast hall but received no response, only a dead silence.

He gripped his Assault Rifle, his eyes sharp as he alertly scanned every corner of the hall.

As a core member of S.T.A.R.S., Chris had always been calm, decisive, and formidable in combat. Even when trapped alone in danger, he maintained extreme caution.

He quickly checked his equipment: more than half of the Assault Rifle ammunition remained, his Handgun was a backup, and only one bottle of First Aid Spray was left. His supplies were not abundant; in this unfamiliar Spencer Mansion, there was no room for any carelessness.

He did not act rashly but instead spent several minutes carefully surveying the entire hall.

The marble floor beneath his feet was covered in a thick layer of dust, with several sets of footprints of varying depths scattered across it. Some were large and some small, clearly indicating that people had entered here one after another not long ago. Chris leaned down and rubbed the floor; the dust on his fingertips was still relatively dry. He deduced that Jill and Barry must have entered the Spencer Mansion shortly before him, but they had likely gone in different directions and missed each other completely.

The piano in the center of the hall was covered in cobwebs, its keys dusty. A corner of the long sofa nearby had collapsed, scattered with dry debris. The second-floor corridor railings were rusted, and the darkness was like thick ink, hiding whatever lay deep within. Most of the doors on both sides were tightly shut, except for one on the west side that was slightly ajar, with a faint scent of blood wafting through the gap—the direction of the dining room where Jill and Barry had been earlier.

Chris originally wanted to follow the scent of blood, but after pausing, he chose the opposite direction.

He knew that rashly following his teammates' path might cause him to miss key clues or fall into a pincer attack. As an experienced operative, he was used to being methodical, thoroughly understanding his surroundings before advancing.

He first walked toward the closed wooden door on the right side of the hall. He reached out and gently grasped the cold metal handle, slowly applying pressure. The door gave a dull creak as it was pushed open a crack.

A musty smell mixed with dust hit him. Chris narrowed his eyes and stepped in first with his gun raised, slowly scanning the interior of the room.

This was an unused reception room. Old leather sofas were arranged around the room, with a scratched coffee table in the middle. The lampshade of the floor lamp in the corner was broken, and shards of porcelain and dry strips of cloth were scattered on the floor. There were no signs of zombies, but the place exuded the decay of years of abandonment.

Chris walked slowly, checking the gaps in the sofas and the drawers of the coffee table one by one. He found no supplies like ammunition or first aid items, only a rusted paperclip in the deepest part of a drawer. He tucked it into his pocket; such small items might come in handy in a mansion full of traps.

Leaving the reception room, he continued deeper along the right corridor. His feet occasionally stepped on dry wood chips, making subtle sounds that were exceptionally clear in the silent hallway.

Reaching the middle of the corridor, a faint sound reached his ears. Chris stopped instantly, pressed his body against the wall, and slowly peeked out.

A hunched zombie was wandering slowly at the end of the corridor with its back to him. Its rotting skin hung loose, and every step it took made a dragging sound.

Chris held his breath and chose not to fire. Gunshots would attract more monsters. When alone and with limited supplies, he would not waste a single bullet on a battle he could avoid.

He lowered his body and tiptoed toward a side room on the other side of the corridor, staying out of the zombie's line of sight.

This side room was smaller than the reception room, containing only an old wardrobe and a desk. Chris pulled open the desk drawer and found a yellowed diary inside. The handwriting was messy and blurred, left behind by a Researcher stationed at the mansion. It only recorded fragments like "experiment out of control," "monsters escaped," and "cannot contact headquarters." Every word exuded despair, confirming that this mansion was by no means an ordinary residence.

After skimming through the diary, Chris put it away, intending to study it more closely later. He then checked the wardrobe to ensure there were no hidden dangers before exiting the room.

By now, the wandering zombie had moved to the other side of the corridor. Chris seized the opportunity and quickly crossed the hallway, arriving near the Mural Room that Jill had previously entered by mistake.

He could clearly see that the door to the Mural Room was open, and the interior was a mess. The heavy ceiling had collapsed, completely flattening the room. Rubble and wood chips were scattered on the ground, and a faint scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.

Chris frowned slightly and stepped forward to investigate the scene. There were clear signs of a struggle on the ground, as well as two sets of drag marks. Combined with the smell of gunpowder, he deduced that a trap had just been triggered here, someone had nearly been trapped to death inside, and it was most likely one of his own.

"Was it Jill or Barry?" Chris murmured. A hint of worry rose in his heart as his finger tightened on the trigger, but he did not rush in.

He could see that the trap had finished its cycle. There were no bloodstains from a fight, indicating that the person trapped had successfully escaped and should have left the area by now. It would be difficult to catch up if he pursued them.

He stayed outside the Mural Room for a moment. After confirming there was no danger around, he turned and walked toward the courtyard of the mansion.

The courtyard was an open-air structure. Rain poured down from the opening above, forming puddles on the ground. Weeds grew wildly, almost obscuring the path underfoot. The surrounding sculptures were dilapidated, fallen in the puddles, looking exceptionally desolate.

Chris walked through the puddles, alertly scanning his surroundings. There were passages on both sides of the courtyard; one led to the eastern area he had not yet explored, while the other looped back to the hall.

He did not choose to go back but instead went deeper into the eastern area. The further he went into the Spencer Mansion, the stronger the scent of blood and rot became, and the deathly silence around him became more oppressive.

Most of the rooms on the east side were locked and could not be opened by brute force. Chris could only note the locations of the doors, intending to return and investigate after finding the keys.

Along the way, he encountered a lone zombie that had strayed from the pack. It spotted him first and lunged at him with a roar. Chris did not panic; while sidestepping the attack, he raised his gun and slammed the butt heavily against the zombie's head. Seizing the moment the creature was stunned, he fired a precise shot into its skull, ending the fight cleanly without making any unnecessary noise.

After dealing with the zombie, he continued forward. Without realizing it, he had circled to the northern area of the mansion, getting further and further from the western side where Jill and Barry were.

Along the way, he collected a few Handgun bullets and a damaged First Aid Kit, barely replenishing his supplies. However, he still found no trace of his teammates. The entire mansion seemed to have only him as a living person. All the clues were scattered and broken, pointing toward a long-prepared conspiracy.

Chris stopped and leaned against the cold wall, quickly sorting out the current situation: Jill and Barry had entered the mansion before him and had encountered traps and monsters in the western area; they should have safely evacuated by now.

Wesker was missing. From entering the mountains to entering the mansion, the captain's actions had always been strange. He had no intention of searching and rescuing; instead, it seemed as if he were deliberately leading everyone into danger.

The entire Bravo Team was out of contact and had likely met with misfortune. This mansion, and the Umbrella Corporation behind it, certainly hid unspeakable secrets.

He looked up into the endless darkness, gripping his weapon, his gaze still firm. With no sign of his teammates and no clear clues, he could only continue his solo investigation, learning the layout of the mansion step by step, finding keys and supplies, while keeping an eye out for signals from his teammates.

The torrential rain continued to rage outside. In the darkness of the mansion, countless dangers lurked in the corners. Chris took a deep breath and stepped forward again, slowly advancing toward the unknown area. Alone in this mansion of death, he would uncover the truth hidden beneath the ruins step by step.