Location: Arcturus – Jungle Periphery
Silas Vire hadn't expected much from threatening Celeste Vale.
He simply wanted to scare her.
Instead, she gave him something far more valuable: coordinates. A relic buried on Arcturus, known only to her and—supposedly—her highborn family.
Unmapped. Hidden. Undisturbed.
He tapped his wrist console.
[Predator teams: Engage search protocol. Escort party to specified coordinates.]
The Hyperion descended through the emerald canopy, ventral thrusters vaporizing forest into steam. At Silas's command, a squadron of plasma lances cleared a flat, stable landing zone. The jungle roared, then fell silent.
He stood at the hangar ramp in a sealed exo-suit, visor humming with oxygen readings.
"Atmosphere is 40% oxygen," he muttered. "Lethal long-term exposure for unmodified humans."
Celeste—beside him in a pressure-suit—nodded with forced calm. Her gaze was glued to the thousand Predators lining up in formation ahead of them.
The hatch opened. They disembarked.
Predators swarmed out first—silent shadows armed with plasma casters, smart munitions, and carbon-blade gauntlets. Half fanned out into the treeline, scouting. A hundred remained behind to harvest meat and raw water from the colossal beast felled minutes earlier.
[Threat Level: Moderate Fauna Activity Detected]
And right on cue, an apex predator emerged from the trees—thirty meters tall, scaled like obsidian, snarling in a low-frequency rumble.
Celeste screamed.
Three Predators fired in sync.
Plasma rounds punched through bone and brain.
The corpse hit the ground like a collapsed tower.
Silas didn't blink. "Leave a hundred for resources. The rest, with me."
He turned to Celeste. "Lead the way."
They marched through primeval overgrowth. Trees as tall as orbital elevators shaded the path. The forest breathed—alien and timeless.
Celeste considered running. She didn't. Not with beasts like that outside. Not with these machines around her.
The group reached a narrow jungle pass. Beyond it—a clearing.
And nestled inside, half-buried in vines and roots, stood something ancient.
A structure.
A ruin.
Silas halted. His techband hummed.
[Structure detected. Unknown alloy composition. Radio-opaque. Passive scan failure.]
Interesting.
He motioned forward.
A Predator approached the overgrown entrance and extended a blade. With surgical grace, it sliced away the vines.
Behind him, Silas turned to Celeste.
"How did you know this was here to begin with?"
She hesitated. "My brother bought the data… from a xeno-archeologist. I overheard them. He wanted to bury it—literally."
Silas smirked.
"Your family underestimates you."
Before them, a sealed metallic door awaited. Primitive by appearance, but dense. Reinforced. Locked.
Silas gestured.
The Predator's shoulder cannon charged. A pulse of blue plasma erupted.
[⚠ Door Integrity: Breached]
The doorway exploded inward.
Celeste winced. Silas stepped forward.
The ruin was dark. Cold. Dead.
Or not.
The inner chamber glowed faintly as systems flickered to life—ancient, slow, unwilling to awaken.
Frescoes lined the walls.
A timeline of a species—their rise from beasts to starfarers, from enlightenment to extinction. The murals were old, older than human civilization, yet painted with eerie familiarity.
Silas stepped closer.
"There used to be a civilization here…"
He turned to his wrist console.
[Begin deep scan. Source anomalous energy signatures. Deploy survey drones. Establish perimeter.]
This wasn't just salvage.
It was history.
Forgotten. Buried.
Waiting.