Rian's Six Eyes saw every detail of Curtis's continued mutation with perfect clarity: flesh swelling, bones splitting through skin, veins twisting outward like the roots of a dead tree.
A massive yellow eye formed on Curtis's left shoulder, glowing sharply between inflamed muscle and torn tissue.
His body swelled drastically—at least twice its previous size. His arms thickened, muscles bulging like boiling steel ready to burst.
Behind the dark-tinted Interface-lens glasses, Rian narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning casually against the slowly moving lift frame.
"Hmm… so, how much EXP am I getting for this, I wonder?" he muttered, tone dry and dripping with quiet sarcasm.
With a savage, explosive leap, Curtis shot down toward Rian—faster, more brutal, far quicker than before. His right arm drew back, claws tensed and ready to rip.
But to the Six Eyes, that movement was perfectly clear. Far too slow.
Rian merely tilted his body slightly, and Curtis's claws missed, slamming into the ground behind him.
The indoor garden floor was torn apart brutally, earth splitting open as if tree roots were being ripped from the soil. Cracks spiderwebbed outward like lightning racing across the ground.
The fight had begun… or more accurately, the game. Rian showed not even a sliver of seriousness.
Every movement he made—whether dodging or countering—was done with total control. He was holding back, testing, observing just how far Curtis could evolve.
The reason was simple, flashing through his mind in the span of a fraction of a second:
Maybe… the stronger Curtis becomes, the more EXP I'll get.
While Rian continued to toy with Curtis, a voice chimed through the interface glasses resting on his face.
"Rian, I've already captured Frederick. What's your status there? Do you need assistance?"
Hearing the call, Rian immediately kicked Curtis, sending the mutated man flying like a ragdoll thrown without a shred of sympathy. He crashed into the concrete wall with a thunderous crack.
Not wanting to give him even a moment to recover, Rian activated Blue, creating a convergence point beneath Curtis. In an instant, the creature's body was pulled inward and pinned among the rubble, unable to move at all.
As dust rained down, Rian opened the communication link through his interface.
"I'm almost done here. You should take care of that injured leg of yours first, ideal future wife," he said casually, his voice tinted with subtle teasing.
"I told you to stop calling me that," Claire shot back, irritation in her tone. "I'm not your future wife."
Rian smirked, folding his arms across his chest. "Who said you're my future wife? I only said you're an ideal one."
Silence followed for several seconds.
No reply.
But Rian knew that silence well—Claire was embarrassed.
"Typical narcissist," Claire muttered at last, trying—and failing—to hide the nervous tremble in her voice. "Hurry up and get over here. I want to see for myself who's actually ideal."
"Roger that, ideal future wife," Rian replied lightly before cutting the connection.
He let out a small laugh, his gaze shifting back to Curtis—still pinned by Blue and half-buried under the collapsed concrete wall.
"All right, Curtis… playtime's over," Rian said with a thin smile. "Time for you to become my EXP."
"Just to make sure," he added, lifting his right hand before his face, "let's go a bit overboard."
In an instant, Rian's body was shrouded in a crackling veil of violet lightning.
Inside him, complex streams of energy aligned with machine-like precision, assembling the very formula of annihilation.
His left hand clasped his right wrist, while the fingers of his right hand prepared for a simple flick—
a small gesture capable of triggering catastrophic destruction.
"Hollow Technique: Purple."
A single flick.
A sphere of violet energy—positive and negative forces spiraling together—formed at Rian's fingertip, no larger than a baseball.
In an instant, its imaginary mass illuminated the room in a silent, absolute flash.
Curtis's head vanished.
No sound. No resistance. No mercy.
His body swayed a moment before collapsing. The Purple continued forward, carving a clean tunnel through the wall behind him, erasing everything in its path without leaving behind even a single atom.
With the release of Hollow Technique: Purple, Curtis was truly dead—no regeneration, no evolution, no second chance.
Rian turned away, preparing to leave, and spoke quietly:
"Think of it as a kindness, Curtis. Angela doesn't need to know anything about this."
He exhaled softly, eyes moving toward the corridor ahead.
"Alice, clean up what's left of him. And once I'm out… blow this place up. Make it look natural."
"Order acknowledged," Alice replied through the interface glasses resting on his face.
Rian walked forward at an easy pace.
"Hm… I wonder how much EXP I got for that?" he murmured, half amused.
A notification appeared.
Ding!
[Gained +2000 Exp]
"Two thousand, huh? Pretty worth it," Rian said casually, dismissing the notification as he continued walking.
His steps remained calm, untouched by guilt or hesitation. From the very beginning, stopping Curtis's mutation had never been his goal—and would never have been part of his plan.
To Rian, Curtis had already crossed every moral boundary he was willing to tolerate.
Curtis was the prime suspect behind the T-virus outbreak at Harvardville Airport.
His motives were understandable—revenge, grief, rage.
But the path he chose… was unforgivable.
Sacrificing innocent lives, people with families waiting for them at home…
That made Curtis no different from Umbrella themselves, despite the grand irony that he despised them more than anyone.
That irony died with him.
***
Not far from the ruins of WilPharma—the once–pristine glass tower now reduced to smoldering debris by Alice's explosion—a wide stretch of rocky, barren ground lay silent under the dim sky.
On top of a large flat boulder, Rian and Claire sat side by side. The morning wind brushed past them, carrying dust and the scent of a new dawn.
They faced the east, waiting for the first light to break across the horizon. Behind them, the remains of WP Corporation stood like a dark silhouette—quiet, hollow, and defeated.
"Sitting side by side… facing east… waiting for the sunrise right after a T-virus outbreak."
Rian spoke lightly, his tone laced with playful teasing. "Pretty classic. Kinda romantic too. Isn't that right, Ideal Future Wife?"
Claire closed her eyes for a moment, took a slow breath, then exhaled softly.
"I told you… stop calling me that," she said—annoyed, but not truly angry.
Rian turned his head toward her, giving her a sideways smile.
"And what if… I don't want to?"
"Of course you can't," Claire replied curtly. "Your narcissism is unreal."
After saying that, she went quiet.
Their eyes met—soft, steady, carrying more meaning than either of them voiced—reflected in the dark tint of their interface glasses.
Slowly, Claire's right hand moved. She touched the back of Rian's head, gently pulling him closer inch by inch.
Her cheeks flushed red. Rian's face was simply too handsome—and now far too close. Her breath hitched, her heartbeat racing out of control.
Rian didn't move away. Didn't tease. Didn't interrupt.
He let Claire take the lead.
The first ray of sunrise peeked over the horizon, bathing their faces in warm gold.
Their lips were only a hair's breadth apart—
a near-perfect moment.
But before it could happen—
"Claire!"
A young girl's voice called out from afar, followed by hurried little footsteps.
Claire jolted in surprise, immediately scooting away with stiff, awkward movements, her face burning bright red.
The owner of the voice soon appeared: Rani Chalwa. Rani rushed over and hugged Claire's left side with cheerful enthusiasm.
"Finally found you!" she chirped—then her brows knitted when she noticed Claire's expression. "Eh? Claire? Your face is red… Why?"
Meanwhile, Rian bent forward slightly and turned his face away, his shoulders trembling as he tried—and failed—to hold back laughter. The corners of his lips twitched, threatening to break into a triumphant grin.
Of course he knew this would happen.
That was exactly why Rian hadn't moved away earlier—why he let Claire get close, why he gave her the illusion of a perfect moment.
But in truth?
Everything had already been calculated.
And as expected, the moment failed.
Failed spectacularly.
Even Akeno—a woman that beautiful—had never been allowed a chance this close.
Claire? Beautiful, yes. Charming, absolutely.
But to Rian, a kiss wasn't something given out for free.
Her lips curled up slightly as she chuckled to herself, "That was priceless! If only I'd recorded it, I could've replayed it whenever I wanted!"
A few moments later, Claire finally calmed down, though her eyes were still glaring at Rian with lingering annoyance.
For some reason, she could tell Rian had known from the very beginning. That suspicion grew even stronger when she noticed the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh.
Claire wanted to punch him, but she held herself back—Rani was here. Instead, she chose a safer way to vent her frustration.
"Ha-ha, very funny," she grumbled, reaching out her right hand to try and pinch Rian's waist.