The planet's violet sky had darkened completely, but on Helion Astra, night never meant stopping. Dorian knew that a world's true nature revealed itself when the sun set, when diurnal creatures sought shelter and nocturnal ones emerged from their burrows. And this would be no exception. Darkness was not his enemy; it was his ally, his canvas, his territory.
—Omega, environment report —Dorian ordered, adjusting his right gauntlet with a precise movement. The Exosuit's micro-plates rearranged themselves with a barely audible whisper.
Biological activity increasing by 340% compared to daytime levels —Omega replied, the data flowing directly into his consciousness—. Irregular thermal changes detected within a five‑hundred‑meter radius. Signals moving downward from elevated coordinates, possibly from nests in the canyon walls. Recommendation: move toward the rock structure to the northeast. There's cover and elevated observation points there.
That's where Omega detected the anomaly, Dorian thought. That place to the northeast, where an impossible energy source waited like a beacon in the dark.
The planet's terrain looked even stranger now that the light was fading. The bark of the trees glowed with a faint red, as if they had blood inside, illuminating the ground with a crimson radiance that made shadows seem to move with a life of their own.
The air grew thicker with every step, heavy with the scent of iron and something else—something Dorian couldn't identify but that his instinct recognized as danger.
At each step, the ground seemed to exhale vapor, small columns of mist rising from cracks and coiling around his ankles before dissipating.
Dorian advanced without hesitation. His senses were fully alert; training on Helion Astra had been clear: "A warrior is not dominated by his environment. He adapts and masters it. Fear is a tool, not a limitation." He repeated the mantra in his mind as his feet found the path among the rocks and glowing roots.
As he approached the canyon Omega had detected earlier, he noticed something new that he hadn't seen during the day: large organic structures embedded in the rocks, almost as if gigantic shells were attached to the cliff walls.
They were grayish formations, with black veins pulsing faintly, like blood vessels. Some were broken, others intact, and all seemed to breathe with a slow, deep rhythm. As he drew near one of the larger ones, a crack on its surface began to vibrate.
Internal activity. Unclassified species. Slow movement… —Omega began, but did not finish the sentence.
Dorian's trained senses sent him a signal—more than a soft message, it was like an electric shock that ran down his spine and put all his systems on high alert. He spun around toward where the intent came from—not the sound, not the movement, but the intent to attack, that ability that Helion Astra's warriors developed after years of combat.
A cracking sound echoed throughout the canyon, a wet, deep noise like bones breaking, and a creature crawled out from inside the shell, shattering it into viscous pieces that splattered the nearby rocks.
It was different from the previous ones: four solid legs ending in claws that looked like graveyard blades, glowing spinal spines running along its back from head to tail, and a multi‑jaw—three, no, four independent mandibles—coated in dark liquid that dripped onto the ground with a chemical hiss.
—What the hell is this —Dorian asked aloud, but he didn't have an answer for himself. His eyes scanned the creature, searching for weak points, attack angles, movement patterns.
Stop thinking about these things, sir. Omega's voice was a whip in his mind. Focus on the enemy. Do you think you're in a museum, observing an exhibit? Or maybe in an aquarium of cute, docile creatures you can study at your leisure?
Are you in your own backyard, on a farm of pretty animals that come to eat from your hand? This is another world. This is hostile territory. Stop playing.
Every word Omega said hurt Dorian more than the brutal blows he'd received on the various planets he'd visited before. It wasn't the content—he knew Omega was right—but the delivery, that surgical bluntness the AI reserved for moments when Dorian needed a reminder of reality.
Omega, Dorian thought, could be very gentle, and maybe even very cute when she wanted to be. She had a peculiar sense of humor, a way of telling jokes only an AI could, and sometimes she even seemed to care about him in a way that bordered on personal.
But when it came to speaking the truth and putting Dorian in his place, when the situation demanded it, she could be very lethal. Too much, really.
Dorian said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
He'd already lost the argument before it started.
The creature roared, and the sound felt like metal scraping against glass, a frequency that made his teeth vibrate in their sockets.
Dorian activated his sensory field without thinking: small electrical micro‑impulses ran through his nerves, amplifying his vision and perception of movement to supernatural limits. The world slowed slightly, colors became more vivid, and he could see every muscular contraction of the monster, every drop of liquid falling from its jaws.
—Hostility confirmed —Omega recited, her voice regaining its clinical tone—. Temporary classification: Predator. Subtype: unknown. Provisional designation: Predator Alpha.
—Predator —Dorian repeated, savoring the word as if he wanted to learn it and never forget it. He repeated it mentally several times, associating it with every detail of the creature: the four legs, the glowing spines, the multiple mandibles.
The creature lunged at him with a speed that contradicted its massive size. No, Dorian thought as his body reacted on instinct, it was impossible. A creature with four legs built for strength, with that muscle mass, could be fast, yes, but that powerful? That acceleration? It was practically unbelievable.
Its multiple mandibles opened at the same time, each moving independently, creating a hypnotic pattern of death. They were designed for one thing: devouring, tearing, leaving not even the bones intact.
Dorian dodged sideways, moving with the precision of someone who had dedicated their life to this, letting the monster strike the rock where he'd been a second before. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if that impact had hit him.
BOOM!
The wall exploded into pieces, rock fragments flying in all directions like shrapnel. The impact made the whole canyon rumble, the sound bouncing off the walls and multiplying into a continuous thunder.
The debris slid down the wall, creating a cascade of stones that hit the ground violently. The explosion kicked up a dust cloud so thick it swallowed the Predator completely, erasing it from sight.
Dorian didn't wait for the dust to clear. He knew, by pure instinct, that the creature wasn't dead. An impact like that, against a solid rock wall, would have killed any living being he knew. But this wasn't just any living being. This was a Predator Alpha, and Alphas didn't die so easily.
The Predator was stronger than the previous ones. Not just physically, but in every way: in resilience, in aggression, in capacity to inflict damage.
If we were in a video game, Dorian thought as his eyes scanned the dust cloud for movement, the previous ones would be what they call "tutorials".
Those enemies that teach you the basic mechanics, that prepare you for what comes next. The multi‑eyed ones he'd faced before—troublesome as they were—were just the basic version of this planet's ecosystem. The grunts. The cannon fodder.
The heavyweights were still held back in the depths, waiting their turn. It was a game… of turns, yes. If Dorian passed the previous test, he advanced to the next round.
That's the fundamental rule in any game: overcome a challenge to progress. But now this was literal. The planet was playing a game with Dorian, and he couldn't refuse. He didn't have the right to refuse to play with this unknown world.
The rules were set by the planet, and the only thing Dorian could do was adapt or die.