In the endless dark of space, a single ship burned.
It drifted like a wounded beast, spiraling through the stars on a trail of its own blood—crimson plasma venting in long, elegant arcs. Its hull was cracked and crumpled in places, entire sections sheared clean off. Power flickered in its core like the dying heartbeat of a giant.
Across its broad flank, a faded insignia barely clung to the fractured metal: a once-great coalition's crest, now just a memory scorched by fire and time.
Inside the vessel, systems screamed silently. Emergency lights blinked red, casting sharp shadows across the bodies slumped in corridors—some still strapped to their seats, others curled on the floor, frozen in contorted final moments. A thin haze of smoke hung motionless in the zero-gravity corridors.
Yet in the central chamber, something pulsed with terrible life.
A crystalline seed, jagged and elegant, hovered within a magnetic chamber surrounded by glowing rings. Its shape was ever-shifting—spikes smoothing into curves, light ebbing in waves of violet, blue, and silver. It wasn't mechanical. It wasn't quite biological either.
It was alive.
And it was waking up.
Bridge: Last Transmission
A lone woman, bloodied and burned, staggered through the broken doorway of the command deck. Her skin was scorched in places, synthetic armor cracked and fused to her limbs. A trail of dark red droplets floated behind her, drifting in the weightless air like rose petals.
She reached the captain's console—most of it was slag. Only one transmitter still blinked green. Her fingers shook as she keyed in the code.
A soft chime. Static. Then a ghostly voice answered:
"Vessel designation?"
She coughed hard, blood flecking her lips.
"Nexus Ark Twelve… requesting planetary vector override. Emergency seed deployment. Life systems failing."
Static. Then:
"Override denied. Coalition beacon no longer recognized. Nearest outpost—offline."
Her head dropped against the console. "No… no, please…"
The crystalline seed pulsed faster now. Lights dimmed. Something in the ship's gravitational coils began to scream—a deep, reverberating groan as the vessel was yanked downward, caught by the unseen hand of a planetary pull.
The woman's gaze drifted to a small viewport as the ship turned.
Below them, a world loomed into view.
Deep green forests. Jagged black mountains. Scattered lights hinting at cities far apart. The sky shimmered with thin rings—this planet, Elaris, was beautiful… and quiet.
Too quiet.
"Let this be far enough," she whispered. "Let it take root."
As the ship plunged, she whispered one last command.
"Seed protocol… initiate."
Descent
The vessel struck atmosphere like a comet, igniting into a fireball that streaked across the night sky. On Elaris, farmers looked up from their fields. Hunters paused in silent forests. Children clutched their blankets as the heavens wept fire.
And far from cities or kings, deep within a forgotten woodland, the Nexus Ark screamed into the earth.
It hit like a god's hammer. The impact shattered trees, hurled soil for miles, and left a crater hundreds of meters wide. Birds scattered. The forest fell into an unnatural silence.
In the heart of the wreckage, the magnetic chamber ruptured. The seed shot free, like a bullet of light, and burrowed into the charred soil. It sank deep, humming softly as mana—dormant for ages—stirred beneath.
The Survivor
The woman stirred, half-buried beneath twisted steel. Her legs were pinned. Her breathing was ragged. Flames danced along the ruined walls, casting flickering orange light.
She looked up into the dark woods above, and for a moment, she was just a speck in the dirt—one life clinging to existence while ancient forces moved around her.
She gripped the shard of her broken transmitter. Its light blinked once, then died.
Her eyes flickered—gold, unnatural, reflecting flames and stars.
Then a sound: leaves shifting. Something moved at the crater's edge. She turned her head, gasping. Her lips formed words too faint to carry far:
"You shouldn't have followed… they'll find it…"
A hiss—low, gurgling.
Figures approached. Not human. Not alien in the way her kind was. These were twisted—shapes that had once been living but were now draped in bone, sinew, and something darker. Hunters. Corrupted by the same force the seed fled from.
The woman drew a thin blade from her hip. Her arm shook.
"Not here," she whispered, voice cracked and hollow. "Not… yet."
They didn't answer. The monsters moved in with slow confidence, the woods behind them shivering with more unseen shapes.
She raised her blade and screamed—not in fear, but defiance.
The forest, listening to her cry, trembled.
And far below, the seed pulsed harder.
Something ancient stirred beneath the surface.
Mana awakened in roots, stone, and sky.
Dreams stirred in the minds of men.
And the System, long dormant, began to update.