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Chapter 741 Resident Evil.
🕑 Added 2025-10-29 02:20:18 +0000 UTCKenta Osamu, Tezuka Suzumori, and Rihan Teuichi were inseparable friends during their high school years. What truly bonded them—aside from hanging out during lunch and skipping the occasional boring lecture—was their shared obsession with gaming. All three proudly owned the newly released ZEPS 3 console, and they had been hyped about it for months leading up to its launch. On release week, they had pooled allowances, skipped fast food indulgences, and spent every yen they could gather just to collect every single title that launched alongside the console..
Over the past few weeks, they had already tried and played through most of the games. Some they finished, some they dropped, and others they were still working through — but there was one title they hadn’t dared touch yet: Resident Evil. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to — it was just... different. Horror. Psychological tension. Limited ammo. And those creepy camera angles that everyone online was whispering about.
Despite their eagerness, they had all silently agreed to save that one for last. But now, with nearly every other game explored and finished, it was staring them in the face — still sealed, sitting on Kenta's shelf like a cursed relic waiting to be unleashed.
Now Kenta, Tezuka, and Rihan were on their way to Kenta’s house, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as they walked through the quiet neighborhood. Laughter echoed between them, but Kenta’s wasn’t genuine — it was nervous and tinged with dread.
“Why me, dammit!” Kenta groaned, dragging his feet like a prisoner headed to his own execution.
Tezuka and Rihan grinned devilishly. “Well,” Tezuka said, “you were in last place during the Fatal Fury tournament. And we all agreed — last place has to play Resident Evil.”
Kenta shot them both a look of disbelief. “But I can’t handle horror, man! You guys know that! I don’t want to play that zombie nightmare!”
Rihan clapped him on the back. “Shut up, are you a man or not? If you're a man, honor your promises.”
Tezuka nodded. “Yeah, same here. I can’t stand horror either. But if I had lost, I would’ve honored it. But lucky me—I didn’t.”
“Shut up, you bastards,” Kenta muttered, glaring at both of them. “Fine. I’ll play. But you two are staying with me the whole time, or I swear I’m kicking both your asses!”
“Exactly what we want,” Tezuka smirked, exchanging a high-five with Rihan.
The three friends laughed and kept walking. Their banter continued as they neared Kenta’s house, teasing, joking, and shoving each other like always. But beneath the jokes, Kenta’s nerves were real. The challenge ahead was more than just a game—it was a test of courage. And today, whether he liked it or not, he would be facing his fear head-on.
Before long, Kenta and his friends arrived at his house and headed straight to his room. It was spacious and comfortably cluttered with posters, shelves of games, and in the center, his prized ZEPS 3 console. As they tossed their bags down, Tezuka's eyes locked onto something.
“Whoa! You still have this sealed!?” he exclaimed, pointing at the untouched copy of Resident Evil.
“You never even tried it?” Rihan added, clearly shocked.
Kenta blushed and snatched the case off the shelf. “Shut up! Give me that!” he barked, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Without further delay, he tore open the shrink wrap, powered on his ZEPS 3, and open the console tray. He slipped the disc in with a shaky hand, closed it, and took a deep breath. The challenge had officially begun.
Tezuka and Rihan sat on either side of Kenta, their eyes glued to the screen as he clutched the controller with tense fingers. The game began with its iconic cinematic — a quiet patrol through a foggy forest, broken by a sudden, brutal attack from behind. The eerie orchestral sting pierced the silence, and the camera snapped into a close-up as the blood splattered.
Then, the title screen hit.
“RESIDENT EVIL,” the deep, distorted voice announced, echoing alongside the chilling soundtrack.
All three of them jumped slightly.
“Okay, that already gave me chills,” Tezuka muttered.
Kenta swallowed hard, his hands sweaty. Rihan just laughed nervously, eyes still fixed on the screen. The atmosphere had already shifted, and none of them were ready for what came next.
Then the game began Kenta gripped the controller tightly, his palms already clammy. The camera panned slowly through the dim, decaying mansion corridors, casting long shadows that flickered with each step. He found himself in control of Chris Redfield, armed with little more than a combat knife, a handgun with barely any bullets, and a terrible sense of direction that mirrored Kenta’s own growing anxiety.
“What the hell is with this camera?!” Kenta shouted in frustration, tilting the analog stick left — only for Chris to awkwardly sidestep in the wrong direction as the camera angle jarringly shifted.
“I read in the ZAGE forums it’s called ‘tank controls,’” Tezuka said, already chuckling. “They do it on purpose to make everything scarier. You never know what's waiting around the next corner.”
“Man, I hate this already,” Kenta muttered, eyes locked on the screen.
He moved Chris forward slowly, heart thudding in rhythm with the creaks and groans of the old mansion. The sound design was merciless — every moan of the wood, every gust of wind slithering through cracked windows, every faint groan in the distance made all three boys flinch. . It felt like the mansion was alive.
Even opening doors felt unnerving. The slow animation, paired with the loud creak, added an eerie tension that none of them could explain.
"Damn, even opening a door is scary!" Kenta said, eyes wide.
Then came the hallway. The one from the rumors. The one everyone mentioned but never described in detail.
Kenta hesitated.
As Chris stepped into the corridor, a low, feral growl echoed from somewhere ahead.
“What was that? What was that!?” Kenta whispered, voice rising.
“Just keep going,” Rihan said, leaning forward like he could protect them from the screen.
Kenta nudged forward, inch by inch. The camera angle changed again, tightening the frame. And then—CRASH! Glass exploded inward as a zombified dog burst through the window, snarling and lunging.
Kenta screamed. A full, unfiltered shriek.
“SHOOT IT!” Tezuka and Rihan yelled in unison, nearly leaping off the bed.
“I’M TRYING!” Kenta shouted back, fumbling with the controls. Chris spun in a sluggish circle like a malfunctioning robot. “WHY DOES HE MOVE LIKE A DAMN FRIDGE?!”
“Because he’s terrified!” Tezuka cackled, equal parts horrified and entertained.
Chris finally got a shot off. Then another. The zombie dog dropped, twitching on the floor. But the damage was done — Chris’s health was now blinking red. One more hit, and it was game over.
“Okay. Nope. I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore,” Kenta said, flinging the controller onto the bed like it was cursed.
“You can’t quit now!” Rihan argued. “You didn’t even reach a typewriter!”
“I don’t even know what that is!”
“It’s how you save the game!”
Kenta's eyes widened. “How do you know all this stuff?!”
Rihan scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. “I played it… made it to the first typewriter.”
Kenta groaned, grabbed the controller again with a resigned grunt. “Fine. But if anything else jumps out, I’m punting this controller out the window.”
He moved on, nervously inching through more hallways and creaky doors. Each loading screen was a gamble. Would it be an empty hallway? A zombie ambush? A boss fight? The game was relentless. The tension didn’t let up.
Finally, Chris entered a room. It was small, lit only by the flickering flame of a wall sconce. A corpse lay motionless on the floor, blood pooled beneath it.
“Something’s wrong,” Tezuka muttered.
As Chris stepped closer, the camera switched. A slow, haunting zoom on the body… and then it moved.
The zombie slowly turned its head toward the screen, face half-chewed, eyes glowing dead and hungry.
3 of them are screaming!.
“Oh no,” Kenta whispered.
“RUN OR SHOOT!” Tezuka yelled, nearly toppling off the bed.
Kenta chose to shoot. And missed. Twice. The zombie lunged.
Chris took a bite. The screen flashed a bloody red. Alarms blared.
“I’M GOING TO DIE!” Kenta shouted.
“You can still make it!” Rihan called out, eyes wide and locked on the screen.
Somehow, Chris survived. A few clumsy shots later, the zombie dropped.
Kenta dropped the controller. He sat in silence, chest rising and falling, breath shallow.
“F*CK This game is trying to kill me,” he muttered. “I swear.”
The night rolled on like a fever dream — screams, curses, failed dodges, frantic reloads, panicked laughter. Tezuka and Rihan never let up with their commentary, cheering him on, mocking his aim, ducking behind pillows at every scare. They were terrified — but together.
They didn’t reach a boss fight. They didn’t finish a chapter. They didn’t even save the game.
But it didn’t matter.
They were surviving in real time. Five minutes at a time. Heart pounding, fingers twitching, shouting and laughing until they were hoarse.
And through all the fear, frustration, and adrenaline, one thing was clear:
This was the most fun they’d had all year — the kind of wild, nerve-wracking excitement that left your body tense and your voice hoarse from shouting. Their hearts still pounded, their laughter still echoed, and the memory of every scare was burned into their minds. The thrill of surviving together, even virtually, had bonded them even deeper.
They even found some Zabo-man easter egg in one of the paintings. There are Police drawings with Z in his forehead, and when the pictures are inspected, it shows “Painting of Police officers who love to say you are very cool”
But now it was night. The room had darkened, the windows reflected their shadows back at them, and the sounds outside took on a strange, unfamiliar tone. The game was off, but the tension still lingered in the air like static.
Kenta looked at the screen, then at the others. “There’s no way I’m playing this at night! F*ck you all!” he declared, shaking his head, eyes wide with exaggerated fear.
Then he smirked, grabbed the controllers, and backed out of the game. Seconds later, metal music and explosions filled the room.
“Twisted Metal,” he said with a grin. “Now this I can handle.”
Tezuka and Rihan burst out laughing. The fear was gone, replaced by relief and chaos — not from zombies this time, but from rocket-firing ice cream trucks and deranged clowns.
It was still gaming. Still mayhem. But this time, no nightmares attached, only chaos as the 3 guys play the game.
to be continue
