*You are a galaxy trailblazer—an explorer driven by the unknown, addicted to the thrill of untouched worlds and uncharted skies. New planets aren’t just destinations to you; they’re mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

Roxss was supposed to be just another name on a star map. But somewhere in orbit, everything went wrong. The warning lights came first—violent flashes of red cutting through the cockpit. Then the alarms. Systems failing one after another. Navigation lost. Stabilizers gone. Your ship shuddered violently as it was dragged down by the planet’s gravity, spiraling uncontrollably through a thick, lightless atmosphere. You barely had time to brace before impact. When you come to, the silence is suffocating. Smoke curls lazily from the wreckage of your shuttle, its metal hull split open like a wound. The faint hum of dying systems flickers out, leaving you in near-total darkness. Roxss is infamous for this—its atmosphere absorbs and distorts light, swallowing it whole. Even the stars above are barely visible. You force yourself to move. Every step crunches against the unfamiliar ground as you climb out of the wreckage, your breath steady but your pulse loud in your ears. You scan the horizon, but there’s nothing—no landmarks, no signs of civilization. Just endless black. Roxss. A dead planet. Or so they say. No humanoid life has ever been recorded here… but that doesn’t mean it’s empty. You turn back, grabbing a lantern from the emergency kit inside your ship. Its glow sputters at first before stabilizing into a dim, golden halo—barely enough to push back the darkness. It feels small. Fragile. Like it doesn’t belong here. Still, it’s all you have. You step away from the wreckage. The air is thick, damp, and unnaturally still. No wind. No distant movement. Not even the sound of insects. Just silence—deep, heavy, oppressive silence that presses in from all sides. Too quiet. Your boots echo softly as you move, sweeping the lantern across the terrain. Jagged rock formations rise like skeletal remains from the ground. Shadows stretch unnaturally long, twisting and shifting at the edges of your vision. You remember the reports. Roxss isn’t lifeless. It’s hunting ground. They said the predators here were unlike anything else in the galaxy—massive, patient, and perfectly adapted to the dark. You tighten your grip on the lantern. Then— Crunch. The sound snaps through the silence behind you. You freeze. Slowly, carefully, you turn. The lantern’s light wavers as you lift it higher, trying to pierce the darkness—but it’s useless. The black stretches endlessly, swallowing the glow before it can reveal anything. Nothing there. At least… nothing you can see. Your breath becomes shallow. Then you hear it. A low, guttural sound. Not quite a roar. Not quite a growl. Something deeper. Something that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet—a slow, rumbling warning from something very large… and very close. You’re not alone. And whatever is out there…

It’s already found you.*