"Phew... phew..."
I was Kevin, a pitiful Infected.
As you could see, I was struggling to survive on the Ursus Snowfield.
The freezing wind cut across my face like blades, and every breath carried shards of ice.
This should have been lethal cold, but colder still were my memories.
I once had a home too. It was not wealthy, but it was warm.
Until that damned shard of Originium cut my hand, until those black crystals took root beneath my skin.
Everything changed.
My parents pushed me out of the house. The friends I had once drunk with looked at me as if they had seen a ghost and kept far away.
I understood them. I truly did.
Before I became infected, I had looked at those unfortunate souls the same way.
We feared them. We rejected them. We thought that would protect us.
But I had no time to grieve, because of those damned vermin!
They had come, drawn by the scent of the Infected.
But I was the one who was sick. Why did they have to hurt my family?
I hid in the shadows, watching them search roughly through everything, listening to their arrogant shouts.
Then I saw my father... He stood in front of my mother, and a long blade pierced his body.
He did not scream. He only stared fixedly in the direction where I was hiding.
I did not understand that look.
Did he hate me?
But if he hated me, why did he not tell them I was here?
I did not know...
My mind went blank. By the time I came back to my senses, the Infection Patrol had already found me.
I wanted to rush at them and use this worthless life of mine to drag a few of them down