The town lay shrouded in a pale haze, gray snowflakes drifting through the air. Rusted Ironhide cars stood parked along the deathly silent streets as the group moved through the Mist, surrounded by blurred, indistinct scenery.
The FBI Special Armed Tactical Unit led by Hook-nosed consisted of handpicked elites, each capable of taking on ten enemies alone. But now, a cloud of fear hung over everyone's hearts. Seeing these grown men trembling made it hard to associate them with the word "elite."
It would have been better if a couple of monsters had attacked them from time to time. Instead, they had encountered nothing along the way but thick fog after thick fog. Their nerves had been stretched to the limit, and the slightest disturbance made them act as if they faced a great enemy.
Emotions were contagious, especially negative ones like fear. They spread with terrifying force, and once they gained momentum, they became an irresistible nightmare.
Even Hook-nosed, who was usually calm and composed, felt a little afraid. That fear came from both the unknown and his companions. They had followed the map's directions toward the church, but as they walked, the road somehow seemed... a little too long!
The one leading the way was still Map. After getting lost repeatedly, he had lost confidence in his own ability. Following yet another wrong turn, his clothes were soaked through with cold sweat, and he looked as though he had just been pulled from the water.
"Did we take the wrong road... like before?" Hook-nosed asked Russell beside him in a low voice, his face dark as iron.
"Impossible!" Russell answered decisively.
The road from the entrance of Silent Hill to the church was a main road, and it was straight. The road signs showed that they had been