Centered around Alessa, the iron wires spread outward like thriving branches, relentlessly claiming the church's space.
The cult members could only scramble to flee, praying to survive just a little longer.
But the world doesn't work that way.
If you've done wrong, you've got to face the consequences.
The frantic cultists watched in horror as their beloved archbishop was torn apart by the wires like a loaf of bread, bursting into a mess of hot tomato sauce.
They realized their so-called faith could no longer save their lives.
"Ahhh!"
"No! No! No!"
Every few moments, another cultist met their end.
The church echoed with their desperate screams.
But there's always a creature that, in its final moments, goes berserk, determined to take down the last of the living.
An old man with white hair, Adam, grabbed a lead pipe and charged at Rose, whose wounds had miraculously healed.
His face twisted with rage, he swung the pipe down toward Rose's head.
But before he could touch her, a shadow loomed over him.
Danger!
His hair stood on end as he spun around, only to be met by an axe growing larger in his vision.
The axe's blade cleaved through bone, lopping off Adam's head. It flew through the air, his neck left with a clean, flat cut, blood gushing like a fountain.
Rose, standing nearby, got sprayed with hot blood across her face.
From behind Barry, a massive arm reached out, snatching Adam's flying head. With a single grip, his five fingers crushed the skull like an overripe watermelon, bursting it open.
Barry's left arm swung a machete, slicing through two cultists caught in its path, their bodies cleaved in half, organs spilling onto the floor.
Suddenly, a giant arm extended from his back, its massive hand grabbing a cultist by the neck, lifting them into the air, and hurling them into a crowd in the corner.
A wave of screams erupted.
Barry let out a wicked laugh, leaping forward, swinging left and right—an axe in one hand, a blade in the other.
His enormous figure barreled through, chopping, slashing, punching, kicking, throwing, and crushing, stirring up a storm of blood and gore. Severed limbs flew like scattered leaves.
In his rampage, Barry drove the panicked cultists to flee in the opposite direction—straight into Alessa's iron wires.
One by one, they were hoisted, torn, pierced, and shredded…
In the end, the church's survivors were wiped out in a single wave.
From this day forward, the cultists hiding in the Otherworld were all but erased.
After what felt like an eternity, the darkness faded, and light emerged.
The slaughterhouse-like scene vanished, as if it had all been a nightmare.
And now, the dream was over.
The church doors slowly creaked open.
Two figures appeared in the white light.
One was Sharon, who should've been hiding in the shop. The other was Sybil, the policewoman who should've been there too.
How did they get here?
"Mommy!"
"Sharon!"
After longing for her daughter like waiting for the stars and moon, Rose finally saw her return.
Hearing Sharon's voice, Rose shivered, then surged with energy, sprinting toward her daughter.
They embraced tightly.
"What a touching moment. You and your daughter are finally reunited," Sybil said, genuinely happy for them.
"I can't believe it. I'm so glad you're safe. Thank you, Sybil. You've helped me so much—I don't even know how to thank you."
Rose turned to Sybil with heartfelt gratitude. Without her, Rose wouldn't have made it through the elevator, and Sybil had brought her daughter back.
My God, she's like a warrior goddess.
Rose was thankful she'd never crossed Sybil—otherwise, she'd have been flattened in seconds.
"It's all over now. Thank goodness," Rose said, holding Sharon tightly, her heart too full for words.
After some discussion, the group headed for the door, eager to leave this cursed place before anything else could happen.
On the way, Dalia—Alessa's biological mother—sat on the steps, dazed and broken, muttering, "Why didn't she take my life?"
Rose glanced back at her, her voice cold. "Because you're her mother. In a child's eyes, a mother is like God."
In Rose's view, Dalia was far from a good mother.
At that moment, Sharon mirrored Rose's action, giving Dalia a deep, meaningful look.
With that, they set off on their journey home.
Since Sybil's motorcycle was wrecked, she rode with Sharon in a silver Jeep.
The engine roared to life, and as Rose turned the car around, the broken bridge ahead seemed to reconnect. She drove south.
Everything seemed to be heading toward a brighter future, but the fog still blanketed the world around them.
Had they really returned to the real world?
A nagging unease settled in, especially for Rose, who knew more about Silent Hill's secrets. Numbly, she dialed her phone, leaving a message for her husband.
On the other end, all she heard was static.
The mood in the car grew heavy, almost suffocating.
Sybil broke the silence, recounting how, after Rose left, she'd been saved by a straw monster and later found Sharon.
Talking with Sharon, Sybil learned that Sharon had also seen a scarecrow.
Sharon had even drawn a picture in her dreams—a scribble pointing to the church.
When daylight came, Sybil broke a window and brought Sharon to the church.
That was her story.
Rose listened, her brow furrowing. She'd seen the straw monster too—its brutal, savage rampage.
And it was clear the scarecrow was connected to Alessa.
Their experiences were all being manipulated by some unseen force.
Terrifying.
What if they hadn't actually escaped Silent Hill?
The more they talked, the heavier their hearts grew. Without realizing it, both fell into a silent understanding.
…
Silent Hill, the Otherworld.
The church.
A web of straw blanketed the church, with a small, oval-shaped cocoon at its center. The surrounding straw, like diligent cleaners, swept away the church's bloody remains.
Life!
A steady stream of vitality poured into the cocoon.
The intense negative emotions of the dying were like a fine, fermented wine. In this perfectly dark environment, the cocoon—Barry—writhed with excitement.
Dark Alessa had already harvested the souls and left.
Alessa, having possessed Sharon, was now dormant in her true form here.
With no tiger in the mountains, the monkey reigns supreme!
In this domain, Barry was now a top predator.
Once his seclusion ended, his power would reach new heights. A bright future awaited him.
Heh heh heh!
America, land of the free—your Iron-Blooded War Wolf is coming for you!
With dreams of the future, Barry absorbed nutrients, awaiting his transformation.
The worlds of light and dark cycled endlessly.
Only dried bones remained in the church, as the straw returned to its source.
Barry had done it.
He broke free from the cocoon.
His straw body now mirrored his living form, but with greater detail. If his old self was 360p, this was 1080p.
He'd reached an advanced stage of creation.