Year: 2327, Time: 7:23 UTC
The sun hung low on Ranch 7, long shadows stretching over the blood-streaked sand. The recycling of air echoed in Aria Venn's ear as she crouched behind the rusted shell of a transport van, her breathing thin and regular. She was in a hunt.
Somewhere, Korr'Vex sat in his observation chamber above them, waiting for them to fail. But this time, it wasn't just a run to escape; they were sprinting towards freedom.
Two hours into their run, Aria sprinted across detached ground, loose earth giving way under her boots as dust billowed around. She pushed on, staring ahead into the distance and freedom. Over her shoulder came the triumphant scream of a Vexari spear.
Korr'Vex had unleashed his soul weapon—a lethal spear that split into five precise, unforgiving projectiles, each unyielding to ensnare its target.
Aria glanced back just as a spear tore through her side. Another followed, then another, until a relentless barrage drove deep into her flesh and into the ground. The spears had prevented her fall. The cacophony of the Hunt swallowed her scream. Her mouth fills with blood, followed by every other part of her.
From afar, Thomas's voice pierced her thoughts, raw and desperate, echoing through the valley.
"ARIA!!!!"
Year: 2321, Time: 8:15 UTC. Six years before the second escape.
"Man is but a forgotten pigment in the endless expansion of the universe. Yet on this tiny pebble he calls home—Earth, he calls it—he reigns supreme. But what if he wakes up one day, no longer atop the food chain? What then? What then indeed... Oh, I know. He is prey..."— Author
The sky above Ranch Seven split, clouds parting as if to give way for something. Twelve chambers, black as obsidian, streaked fire across the horizon. They moved in unison, headed in the same direction, before slamming into the ground one after another.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! — twelve times.
The sound rolled across the wasteland like the footsteps of a giant beast, each impact rattling the bones of the earth. Dust rose in choking curtains, and when it cleared, the pods stood scattered but within proximity to a large building—silent, steaming, waiting.
Hisses broke the stillness. Metal groaned as the first chamber unlocked. Then another. One by one, doors unsealed with a scream of hydraulics, exhaling plumes of mist that coiled like ghosts into the air.
Besides being made from obsidian, the pods were built with technology that completely absorbed and eliminated any impact. The runners felt nothing—besides waking. The mist contained a substance that pulled them out of their deep slumber.
Figures stumbled out. Twelve humans, disoriented, their bodies clad in unfamiliar combat suits of grey. Loose in form, yet tailored with uncanny precision. Sleeveless vests, thick in texture, clung tightly to their bodies to suggest structure without restriction. Reinforced padding bulged subtly at the knees and elbows.
Their boots were matte black, mid-calf height, molded to the comfort of each foot. No laces. No seams. Just a seamless shell that flexed with each uncertain step. And though none carried weapons, the uniform itself felt designed for survival.
The ground beneath their boots felt wrong—unknown. They blinked against the bleached light, trying to focus. Their eyes adjusted slowly, but their minds reeled.
Silence hung heavy between them.
Then, out of curiosity and uneasiness, they began to ask one another:
"Who are you?!"
"Where am I?!"
"How did I get here?!"
But no one knew the answers, because they all had the same questions.
Each remembered only the last thing they had been doing before waking in this place. For some, it was their jobs, others with family, and some surrounded by social excitement.
As their eyes began to clear, though still hazed, they stared at the pods.
"Did we come out of those things?" Some thought it to themselves, others spoke it aloud.
Suddenly, fear and emotion overwhelmed them. A woman clutched her vest, her voice trembling.
"Were we abducted? Oh God… I think we've been abducted. This—this place feels wrong. Are we even on Earth?"
They turned to look around, still in discomfort, heads spinning with confusion and terror. The surroundings shifted with their gaze. Some shielded their eyes from the brightness of the sky.
Remnants of an old ruined city were everywhere, some half-buried in the ground. Short and tall trees grew between them. Low-slope hills lingered in the distance. The ground was dotted with both dry and fresh bushes, some dusty and barren—especially near the base.
Then a tall man slowly squatted, arms resting on his knees.
"I was just at my desk. Typing. I remember the sound of my keyboard. Then… nothing."
Another dropped to her knees, fists clenched in the dust.
"I was holding my daughter. I was holding her. Her smile… Why can't I feel her anymore?"
Instinct—or maybe fear—drew them toward the only landmark: a massive building before them, its face scarred by age and war. Its steel doors stood open, as if the grounds themselves were inviting them to enter, but no one dared to step inside.
"Are we supposed to enter?" a woman asked the group.
"We do not even know where we are," said another.
One silently concluded that the place had endured war or something close. It was just a thought, and he did not say it—words without proof were not worth sharing.
The building was two stories high. It resembled an old military base made from concrete, aged but reinforced with something alien. The roof had been replaced with obsidian.
The group began introducing each other. Most spoke in English, while others struggled, desperately trying to be understood. Only their names were exchanged, nothing more. But before they could finish, one began slowly moving toward the building's open entrance.
"This building looks strange. I wouldn't dare enter it. Look! It was already open when we got here. Are you forgetting what we came out of? It's obvious—we were abducted," Kira said.
Kira, in her late twenties, had loose dark brown hair and sharp green eyes. She stood about 5'7", slim yet strong, her features distinctly Caucasian. Her words stopped Jalen in his tracks.
Jalen, somewhere in his early twenties, stood about 5'9" with tousled, dark curls and amber-hazel eyes. His tanned skin and lean, athletic build gave him a restless, wild air.
"You're right. I probably shouldn't," he admitted.
"Mm-hmm! More like shouldn't," she added calmly, her voice gentle but her eyes hard.
Suddenly, another woman broke into a sprint, bolting away from the group.
"Hey! Stop! Where are you going?" voices called after her.
But she wouldn't listen. She knew the stench of danger and did not want to remain there any longer.
The rest continued with introductions, ignoring her departure entirely.
She kept moving at a steady pace, her eyes scanning everything, body tense, anticipating danger. Her careful movements marked her as calculating, a survivor. Then another—a man—started after her.
"Hey, slow down. It's better if we're not alone. Who knows what's out there?" he said in English, his words thick with an accent.
She nodded and slowed enough for him to catch up.
"I'm Kaito," he said, between breaths.
"Amara… Amara Rajput."
She was in her mid twenties and about 5'9", lean and wiry, with long black hair tied in a loose braid. Her bronze-toned skin bore the marks of sun exposure, her sharp dark brown eyes cutting across her surroundings with precision.
"Kaito Shirasawa," he replied, nodding. His messy black bangs fell over his pale forehead, and his narrow, dark grey eyes studied her carefully. About 5'8", slender yet athletic, he gave a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
They moved together, weaving through ruins, leaping over fallen logs, and pushing through low bushes that barely reached their waists. They pressed on for hours until at last they arrived at a massive obsidian wall. It stretched endlessly in both directions, towering high above them. It was clearly built to keep them inside.
Before they could approach too closely, the wall shifted. Segments translated left to right, right to left, up and down. Veins on the surface began to glow, pulsing brighter as though preparing for some kind of attack.