The first rays of day filtered through the porthole, brushing Adam’s face with a soft, lukewarm light.

  Lying on the metal floor, his blaster still clutched against him, he slowly emerged from sleep. For a fleeting moment, he thought he had only dreamed it all.

  The creature. The desperate escape. The fear.

  But reality struck back brutally.

  Zena was still there. Motionless. Silent.

  The illusion of a peaceful awakening shattered instantly.

  With cautious slowness, Adam pushed himself upright, expecting the stiffness of an uncomfortable night, the ache of strained muscles, the pain of yesterday’s injuries.

  Yet… nothing.

  He blinked, startled.

  No soreness. No fatigue. Not even a scratch.

  Disturbed, he looked down at his arms. His skin was smooth, intact. Where he had expected abrasions, scabs, or at least the marks of healing, there was nothing.

  As if nothing had happened.

  His heart began to race. He ran his hands over his legs, his torso, searching for any trace of the wounds inflicted by the forest, by his desperate flight, by the crash.

  They were gone.

  No scabs. No scars.

  A chill crept up the back of his neck.

  What was happening to him?

  This defied all logic.

  Adam tried to make sense of it, to understand the origin of this sudden, inexplicable healing. How was it possible?

  His thoughts spiraled, searching for answers. Then one struck him.

  The chair.

  The one he had sat in on Oberon V.

  Since that moment, something in him had changed. His strange intuitions. His flashes of prescience. Those brief visions of the immediate future… And now, this accelerated healing. Was it all connected?

  His gaze drifted into the void as he replayed the team’s hypotheses. Koros and the others had mentioned possible acute radiation syndrome, but none of the usual symptoms had appeared.

  So… what had that chair done to him?

  Adam gathered the pieces, reliving every moment when those strange sensations had surfaced.

  — On Oberon, during the firefight… In space, when we were being hunted… And here, when that creature almost killed me…

  A pattern emerged. Every time, it had been a matter of survival.

  The common denominator was obvious: mortal danger. It was the imminent threat of death that triggered those visions, those intuitions… as if his mind anticipated the inevitable in order to avoid it.

  But there was more.

  His speed.

  In the moment, adrenaline had masked the truth, but now… he realized the impossible.

  He had outrun Kiran.

  A Neurorian. A species known as the fastest in the Consortium.

  Never, not once, had he been able to rival his friend in a sprint. And yet, he had not only caught up… he had surpassed him.

  It made no sense.

  His gaze lingered, haunted by a single question: how?

  It all led back to one thing. The Estheryan chair.

  There was no longer any doubt. That seat had not merely irradiated his body. It had changed him.

  But into what, exactly?

  And above all… for what purpose?

  That “research temple,” as Eamon had called it… Was it a center for studying exo-species? An observation post? Or something far more obscure?

  Adam was overwhelmed with questions, drowning in confusion. What had Eamon truly discovered? He knew he would find no answers by staying here. Perhaps he never would. But he had to survive, at all costs, if he ever hoped to unravel this mystery.

  But how?

  A deep growl from his stomach cut through his thoughts. The reminder was brutal. Since Oberon, he had eaten only a single protein bar.

  Hardly anything.

  Adrenaline had masked the hunger until now, but at this point… his body was demanding its due.

  Thirst, for the moment, was manageable. He still had some water, and the constant rains of this world provided some relief. But food… food was about to become a serious problem.

  Finding Kiran without energy would be hopeless. So what then? What was he supposed to do?

  Adam remained still for a moment, staring into nothingness, until a thought imposed itself, raw and brutal.

  The creature.

  Of course.

  It was wounded. Weakened. Still dangerous, yes—but vulnerable. And above all, it could serve as food.

  It was risky… but it was his only chance.

  He checked his blaster: two charges left. Then he glanced at the iron bar, his other weapon.

  “That should be enough,” he murmured.

  His survival instincts took over. Adam stood, his gaze hardened, resolute. This time, he would not be the prey.

  He would be the hunter.

  He pulled on his makeshift raincoat again, retrieved his blaster, and unhooked the iron bar that had been holding the door shut. Before leaving, he cast one last look inside, then carefully closed it behind him. No way he was leaving a nasty surprise waiting for his return.

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  In the dark corridor of the wreck, rain still hammered the metal hull with the same relentless intensity—a dull, constant drumming. How long could this cursed deluge last on this world? he wondered, glancing up at the ceiling as if the sky might answer.

  Cautiously, Adam made his way toward the exit, blaster raised, ready to fire at the slightest threat. He almost expected to see the alien lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce…

  But nothing.

  Outside, only the desolation of the crash trench awaited him: uprooted trees, twisted debris, the oppressive silence of a hostile world. The forest lined the horizon, dark and impenetrable, marking the boundary between what he knew and what he feared.

  Driven more by hunger than courage, Adam headed toward the woods.

  The only way to find the creature was to retrace his steps, to return to where he had wounded it.

  He moved slowly among the trees, every muscle tense, every nerve alert. His eyes scanned every shape, attentive to the slightest anomaly, stalking like a hunter tracking his prey. Each step was carefully placed, avoiding dead branches and treacherous roots, so as not to break the fragile silence or alert his surroundings. If a creature this dangerous roamed here, it was surely not alone. He was certain of it: other lifeforms inhabited this world, and discretion was survival.

  The rain, still unceasing, slid over the leaves in a soothing, deceptive melody, masking the sound of his footsteps. A blessing for stealth—but a trap in itself. The soaked ground was unstable, muddy, slick with every stride.

  After several dozen minutes of weaving between the trees, following instinct more than real clues, he finally reached the site of his brief confrontation with the beast. The memories returned instantly: the shot, the scream, the monstrous silhouette fleeing into the darkness…

  The Terran swept his gaze across the area, searching for any sign, any trace. He needed a trail, something to cling to.

  Then his eyes froze.

  Footprints.

  Large. Deep. Sunken into the soft mud. They could only belong to the alien.

  As he drew closer, he distinguished several diverging paths. One set led toward the mountains, straight and clear. Another, marked by streaks of a violet liquid—probably blood—stretched back toward the wreck. And a third trail, also stained with that same strange fluid, veered again toward the mountains.

  Adam frowned, mind racing.

  Wounded, the creature had returned to its lair. By instinct? By weakness? It didn’t matter.

  He had his trail.

  And it would lead him straight into the monster’s den.

  Adam crouched to examine the bloodstained prints more closely. Their erratic rhythm suggested a frantic run, as if the creature had fled at full speed despite its injury. He stood, eyes fixed on the dark line of mountains on the horizon.

  That was where it had taken refuge.

  That was where he had to go.

  Cold wind descended from the heights, lashing his face, mingling with the drizzle that never ceased. The forest slowly transformed. The trees grew more gnarled, denser. The undergrowth became a tangle of roots, vines, and mossy stones.

  But the tracks were still there—sometimes faint, sometimes clear—guiding Adam like an invisible red thread.

  A few hundred meters farther on, the prints abruptly vanished. The ground, now rocky, no longer bore any trace of the creature’s passage. The forest gradually receded behind him, giving way to a harsher landscape.

  A bare path, wedged between two mountain walls, opened before Adam, like an ancient scar carved into the stone.

  The way was wide, but treacherous. Collapsed blocks of granite, sculpted by centuries of erosion, littered the ground. Unstable rocks rolled beneath his feet at every step, loosened by icy rivulets of rainwater running down the cliffs. Each advance demanded caution and balance; a fall here, in this narrow gorge, could be fatal.

  Vegetation grew scarce. Only a few lichens and clumps of moss clung desperately to the smooth stone. The wind, channeled by the cliffs, blew in muffled gusts, at times howling through the rock hollows like a warning.

  Adam slowed.

  He knew the creature had taken this path. He felt it.

  But now, it had the advantage of the terrain.

  The human climbed carefully up the rocky slope, each step on the slick stones requiring focused effort. When he reached the top, he emerged onto a natural crossroads.

  To his left, a dead end. A massive rockslide had sealed the passage, blocking any further advance.

  But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

  Before him stood a stone embankment, at the foot of a structure that was unmistakably unnatural.

  An obelisk.

  Rising toward the dark sky, it seemed to watch over this place forgotten for centuries. Several meters tall, carved from dark rock, it still bore the marks of time: eroded edges, a surface streaked with lichen. Yet it stood firm, imposing and solemn.

  Ancient engravings, though partially worn, were still visible along its sides.

  Adam approached slowly, fascinated. He placed a hand on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the carved symbols. An unknown language. A script unlike anything he had ever seen.

  Perhaps the remnants of a forgotten civilization, extinct for centuries. Wiped from history, swept away by time.

  This world was not merely a refuge for hostile creatures… it had been inhabited.

  And perhaps it still carried the traces of ancient knowledge, buried in its soil and stone.

  Finding nothing more to glean from the obelisk, Adam continued on, leaving behind this silent relic of an erased past.

  After several minutes of cautious walking, he finally reached the entrance of a cave.

  The lair opened before him like the gaping maw of a monster—dark, menacing, seeping with moisture. Thick, irregular violet stains smeared the ground at the entrance.

  There was no doubt.

  This was it.

  The creature’s nest.

  A chill ran up his spine. Everything in him screamed to turn back. But he knew he could not.

  He took a deep breath, gathering all his courage, then crossed the threshold of the cavern, body taut, every nerve alert. In his right hand, the iron bar was gripped like a blade. In his left, his blaster was ready to roar.

  The darkness inside was nearly absolute. Only a few pale rays, filtering through thin cracks in the rock, brushed the damp walls. The outside world already felt distant, the pounding rain now muffled, replaced by a heavy, almost unnatural silence.

  Adam stopped, listening.

  Nothing. No breath. No echo. Just that crushing weight, clinging to the skin like an invisible shroud.

  He moved forward slowly, soundless, each step a challenge. The smell of earth, of dampness—but also of decaying flesh—filled his nostrils. An organic stench that left no doubt.

  Something lived here.

  And hunted.

  His eyes began to adjust to the gloom, gradually revealing indistinct shapes around him—jagged walls, piles of stone, shadows that seemed to quiver at the edge of his vision.

  Then, suddenly.

  A low growl. Deep. Followed by the slow, wet scrape of something against rock.

  Terribly close.

  His heart thundered in his chest like a war drum.

  But he did not falter.

  In one smooth motion, he raised his blaster, the barrel aimed straight ahead toward the source of the sound, finger tightening on the trigger.

  Adam took a few more careful steps.

  And then… he saw it.

  The creature.

  Curled within a fold of shadow, hidden among seeping stones, it was slowly licking a gaping wound in its flank. Its four eyes, glowing with an unnatural light, locked onto Adam with a mixture of hatred and pain. A guttural rumble escaped its throat, vibrating through the cave walls like a primitive threat.

  The faint light filtering from outside caressed the monster’s outline, revealing the full horror of its form.

  The beast was gigantic—three times Adam’s size.

  Its reptilian body, streamlined for the hunt, bore scaly skin in dirty greens and stony grays, perfect camouflage for the surrounding forests. Its hind limbs, slender yet powerful, were built for speed, while its feet ended in two curved claws like blades.

  But it was its arms—its true weapons—that froze the blood.

  Long. Powerful. Ending in enormous taloned hands, capable of crushing a torso in a single blow.

  Along its back, bony spines bristled up its spine to its elongated skull, like a macabre crown.

  And its head…

  Massive. Angular. Flanked by four glowing eyes and a disproportionate maw lined with spiraled teeth.

  A mouth built to kill. To rend. To tear.

  This thing was not merely a predator.

  It was a nightmare made flesh.

  Adam remained frozen for a second, absorbing every detail.

  He knew he would not get a second chance.

  Breathing slowly, he raised his blaster. His left hand trembled slightly, but he steadied his aim. He targeted one of the incandescent eyes, hoping to stop the creature before it could react.

  The beast growled louder, its rough breath filling the air with hot, fetid exhalations like an organic furnace.

  Adam didn’t wait.

  He pulled the trigger.

  A reddish flash tore through the darkness.

  The shot struck the creature—but too low.

  Its left shoulder exploded in a spray of thick, violet blood.

  The beast screamed—a piercing cry of pain and rage that made the cave walls tremble.

  But it did not fall.

  On the contrary.

  It lunged.

  What did this encounter with this… thing make you feel?

  Fascination?

  Tension?

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