"Adaptive pattern confirmed," Omega reported, its voice emerging amid the chaos. "These creatures learn, sir. They are adjusting their tactics in real time based on your responses."
"Well, guys," Dorian said, a smile appearing on his face despite everything, "the point I deducted has been reinstated. So that explains the military formation. Now it all makes sense."
Indeed, sir, Omega confirmed.
The second Predator was already spinning to attack again. This time from below, its claws aimed directly at the tendons of Dorian's legs.
It wants to immobilize me, Dorian thought, but an image in his own consciousness—projected by Omega or by his own instinct, he could no longer tell—showed him it wouldn't be just immobilization. He saw himself being digested alive, his limbs separated from his torso while multiple mandibles worked.
No, I can't let that happen.
Dorian lowered his center of gravity, slid his leg back, and in a movement that required millimeter precision, he severed the second Predator's tendon with a clean swipe of his sword. The energy blade found the weak point between the scales and pierced through as if nothing were there.
The creature fell, dragging itself, growling with a viscous sound, its hind legs no longer responding. But still, still it tried to crawl toward him, its mandibles opening and closing furiously.
The first one, executing a different maneuver than before, corrected its bite. Dorian sent an electrical impulse through his suit—concentrated in his fist—and left it rigid for an instant. The electricity coursed through the creature's nervous system, paralyzing it for just long enough.
And that was the perfect moment.
He brought the sword down diagonally. The blade traced a blue line that opened the Predator's ribcage from side to side. The body fell sideways, convulsing, its legs moving uselessly in the air before going still.
The third one exploited the opening. It leaped and tried to bite Dorian's armored arm, this time near the biceps, where the suit was slightly thinner. Dorian twisted his torso, and the mandibles scraped against the reinforced material, leaving shiny marks on the armor. He could feel the pressure, the brute force trying to pierce his protection.
Dorian clenched his teeth.
"Off."
A short pulse of energy burst from his arm, a concentrated discharge that took the Predator by surprise. The creature was flung backward, slammed into a rock, and lay still, stunned.
Dorian didn't wait. He sprinted toward it at full speed, his boots hammering the ground, and when he was close enough, he traced a perfect descending vertical arc.
Tchk.
A clean cut. The Predator's head separated from its body and rolled across the ground.
Dorian stood motionless for a moment, gasping. The air in his lungs seemed to want to escape by force, as if that were the most natural thing. His arms hung at his sides, heavy as lead.
"That was insane," he said, still finding it hard to speak. "It really was."
And despite everything, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain, he was smiling. He had survived this swarm.
But when everything seemed over… the planet said to him: You've only killed a few and you're already thinking about taking a break? How lazy you are.
The crater continued to vibrate.
Omega spoke softly in Dorian's mind:
Inferior signatures detected. Something deeper than the Predators is active. Moving toward the surface.
"Seriously, there's more of this annoying shit?" Dorian protested, his expression one of "fuck it all, I'm tired of this. Can't you leave me alone?"
But the answer was a resounding "no. We cannot. And we're very sorry about that."
Dorian observed the cracked bottom of the crater. Among the stones and corroded metal of the Sigma-12 ship, there were holes, tunnels, and vents he hadn't noticed before. They were like an alien anthill, an underground network extending who knows how far.
The ground surface began to move.
First came tremors. Small vibrations that made loose stones dance.
Then mounds. The earth rose in bumps that then sank back down.
Then columns of black vapor began to emerge from the cracks, a dense, fetid gas that smelled of sulfur and rot.
Dorian stepped back instinctively, and Omega projected a three-dimensional model of the subsurface onto his vision. It was a nightmare map: multiple interwoven galleries, underground chambers, tunnels delving into the depths.
Multiple galleries, Omega reported. Depth ranging from twenty to one hundred meters. Elevated temperature, exceeding sixty degrees in the lower chambers. The structure suggests a hierarchical ecosystem: lesser predators in the upper levels, larger entities in the depths.
"Are you kidding me, Omega?!" Dorian shouted, his voice echoing in the empty crater. "Tell me this is a fucking joke!"
No, sir. The data do not lie, Omega replied, confirming that nothing it had said was a joke.
"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this planet?" Dorian wondered, and instead of answers he found more questions. "At least give me something to defend myself with."
The ground opened up twenty meters away, the rocks parting like petals of a mechanical flower, and a different creature emerged from the depths.
Its body was covered in mineral plates, as if it had grown by embedding stones into its skin. Its eyes were tiny, mere beads of dull black coal, and its neck was long and segmented, moving with an almost hypnotic slowness.
This one is different, Dorian thought. Did the designer get tired of making the same thing over and over?
It didn't roar. It didn't attack. It just watched.
Dorian lowered his sword a little, not sheathing it, but relaxing his stance.
"A… gatherer?" he murmured.
A gatherer. In Omega's classification, a creature that was not hostile unless attacked. Its function was clear from its name: to collect samples. Not to fight anyone, unless necessary.
The creature tilted its neck, as if analyzing the destroyed ship. Its tiny eyes scanned the remains of the Sigma-12 with an attention that was almost disturbing. Then it emitted a low sound, like the hiss of metal heating up, a frequency that vibrated in the teeth.
That was the trigger.
What the hell was that hiss? Dorian wondered, and again there was no answer.
From the tunnels, more creatures began to emerge. But these were not predators. They had slender appendages covered in short spines, like biological brushes, and they carried metal fragments on their backs, held in place by a viscous substance secreted from special glands.
Gatherers.
Omega spoke:
These are not hostile. They are storing technological remains… belonging to Sigma-12. I observe a pattern: they select electronic components and parts of the energy core.
"And what will they do with them?" Dorian asked, fascinated despite the situation.
That I do not know for certain, sir, Omega replied, and if it had a body, Dorian was sure it would be shaking its head. It could be to feed on the minerals. It could be to build. It could be… something else.
The creatures completely ignored Dorian. They moved around the corpses of the Predators with absolute indifference, as if he didn't exist, and began to collect parts of the ship with surgical precision. Their appendages separated components, extracted wires, tore off metal plates, all with an efficiency that was overwhelming.
"So there is a social structure," Dorian thought aloud. "An ecosystem. Even… a purpose. Not just killing. Building. Collecting. Organizing."
But the analysis didn't last long.
A deep roar shook the entire valley.