Chapter 1: Odd Place For a Warlord.
Verdantia was not a planet one would expect to find on any known star map. Situated on the fringes of the Attican Traverse, the lush world was a curious anomaly—untouched by civilization, yet brimming with verdant jungles, sprawling oceans, and dense mountain ranges. The kind of place people went to get lost, whether from the law or from themselves.
Humanity, still licking its wounds from first contact with the Turians at Shanxi, had sent out scouts—pathfinders tasked with charting new systems and evaluating potential colonies. Verdantia was one such candidate. But unlike most wild planets, this one had an odd, ominous signature buried in its rich ecosystems—an encrypted signal. What it was transmitting was anyone’s guess, but the system had piqued enough interest to send a small detachment of military and scientific personnel to investigate.
Captain Amara Thorn stood on the loading ramp of her shuttle, her boots planted firmly in the muck of Verdantia’s dense jungle floor. She adjusted her helmet, squinting through the polarized visor at the distant mountain range. Sweat beaded her brow beneath her armor. Even the advanced cooling systems of her hardsuit couldn’t completely dampen the oppressive humidity of this place. She wiped her brow, muttering under her breath.
"Odd place for a first mission," she said, her voice barely registering over the ambient noise of the jungle—chirping insects, unseen animals rustling through underbrush, and a distant rumble that might have been a waterfall, or thunder. "The hell kind of signal comes from a world like this?"
"Well, Cap, if it was easy, they wouldn’t have sent us," Lieutenant Gregor "Griz" Anvar replied, stepping beside her and nudging her with an elbow. He was all rugged grins and bravado, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder. Griz was part of the Alliance Marines—veteran of the First Contact War, the kind of soldier who didn’t scare easy.
"You’d think they’d have sent a real recon team if they thought it was serious," Thorn replied, her gaze still scanning the tree line. There was something wrong about this planet, something she couldn’t shake. It felt too quiet, too still. And that encrypted signal? She had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.
Her team was small—just five. A mix of Alliance Marines and scientists tasked with tracking down the source of the mysterious transmission. What had first seemed like a routine mission was quickly turning into something stranger.
"Think it could be pirates?" Griz asked, breaking the silence. "Some fringe group settin’ up shop?"
"Maybe," she mused. "Or worse. Someone might be waiting for us."
Before Griz could respond, the shuttle’s comm crackled to life. "Captain Thorn, we’re picking up movement. You might want to see this." The voice belonged to Doctor Elara Nezrin, one of the scientists assigned to the team. Smart, but jittery—her nerves didn’t exactly instill confidence in the rest of the crew.
Thorn exchanged a glance with Griz before they headed into the shuttle. Inside, the cramped interior was filled with the hum of electronics and holo-displays. Dr. Nezrin was hunched over one of the consoles, her face bathed in blue light as she examined a scan of the terrain.
"Show me," Thorn said, pulling off her helmet and wiping sweat from her forehead.
Nezrin tapped the console, bringing up a map of the surrounding area. A faint red blip appeared on the edge of the scan, near the base of the mountains to the north. It was moving slowly but deliberately, weaving through the jungle like a predator stalking its prey.
"That’s not wildlife," Thorn noted, narrowing her eyes. "Too methodical."
Nezrin swallowed nervously. "It gets weirder. We tried to triangulate the signal’s origin… and it’s coming from the same direction as whatever this is."
Thorn’s eyes narrowed. "We’re not the first ones here, are we?"
"No, Captain," Nezrin said softly. "And I don’t think they’re friendly."
----------------------------------------
The jungle loomed over them as the team made their way toward the mountains. The trek was long, the air thick with moisture, and the oppressive canopy above blotted out much of the sunlight. Thorn's boots squelched in the mud, and the occasional cry of an unseen beast set her nerves on edge.
Griz walked ahead, his rifle at the ready, scanning for signs of movement. Nezrin followed closely behind, flanked by two more marines, Private Joss and Corporal Malik, both green but eager. The jungle seemed alive, teeming with potential threats hidden just beyond sight.
As they reached the edge of the mountain range, Thorn halted, holding up a fist. Griz crouched beside her, peering through the thick brush.
Ahead, the ground sloped upward into a natural valley, flanked by jagged cliffs. And there, sitting at the base of the mountain, was something that didn’t belong. A structure—a large, armored bunker, its surface covered in vines and moss. Ancient, by the looks of it, but still very much intact.
"The signal’s coming from there," Nezrin whispered, her voice trembling.
"Look," Griz muttered, nodding toward the entrance. Thorn followed his gaze and felt her stomach twist. Emerging from the bunker, moving with a deliberate, hulking stride, was a massive figure—a Krogan.
Thorn knew immediately what she was looking at. Krogan were a rare sight this far out in the galaxy, and most of them preferred to keep to themselves. But this one… this one was different.
The Krogan stood easily over seven feet tall, his armored bulk gleaming under the faint light filtering through the canopy. His skin was dark, marred by old scars, and a single eye gleamed with a predatory focus. He carried a massive shotgun slung across his back, but what caught Thorn's attention was the way he surveyed the area, like a warlord inspecting his domain.
"That's no random merc," Griz whispered, his voice tight with concern.
"No," Thorn agreed. "That's Throgar Nex."
The name hit like a hammer. Throgar Nex, a Krogan warlord whose reputation had spread across the galaxy like wildfire. Rumors painted him as a ruthless tactician, a beast of war who had turned entire planets to ash in his search for power and revenge. If he was here, on Verdantia, it could only mean one thing—this planet was more than it seemed.
But before Thorn could give the order to pull back, Throgar Nex turned his head slightly, his one good eye locking onto their position.
"He knows we’re here," Thorn whispered, her heart racing.
In an instant, the Krogan warlord moved, faster than anyone his size had any right to. He raised a massive hand, and in that moment, the jungle fell silent.
"Humans," his deep, guttural voice rumbled, carrying through the air like a distant storm. "I wondered when you’d show up."
Thorn’s blood ran cold. The first contact between humanity and another species wasn’t supposed to go this way. It wasn’t supposed to be with a warlord.
And it certainly wasn’t supposed to be with Throgar Nex.
----------------------------------------
The Krogan warlord stood at the edge of the clearing, his massive form a silhouette against the darkening sky. Thorn’s mind raced. This wasn’t a negotiation. This was survival.
"Humans," Throgar Nex said again, his voice laced with both curiosity and amusement. "An odd place for you to come snooping. But then again, it's an odd place for a Krogan warlord, too."
The powerful Krogan warlord said, and Thorn couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze.
Captain Amara Thorn stepped forward, her heart pounding but her voice steady. She wasn’t about to let the Krogan see any sign of weakness. Lieutenant Gregor "Griz" Anvar, always the professional, already had his MR-1 sniper rifle leveled at Throgar Nex, his finger hovering near the trigger. It was more a show of defiance than a real threat; Griz had seen enough in his time to know that a Krogan warlord's armor was more than capable of shrugging off a sniper round or two.
Throgar Nex, however, didn’t seem bothered by the rifle aimed at him. His single eye gleamed, filled with amusement as he stared them down. The bulky Krogan towered over the humans, a living symbol of the war-driven resilience his kind was famous for. His scarred face twisted into a broad grin, tusks gleaming as he bared them in a toothy smirk.
"Why are you apes here?" Throgar rumbled, his deep voice rolling like thunder through the jungle. He crossed his thick, armored arms over his chest, his casual stance betraying a total lack of fear. "Did those Turian fuckers make your race piss itself in fear, so now you're runnin' this way for cover, or somethin'?"
Griz tensed beside her, his jaw clenched tight. Amara could feel the heat of the insult in the air, but she wasn't about to let her crew get drawn into an exchange of petty insults. Not with a Krogan warlord who could squash them like insects if he wanted to.
She stepped forward, her gaze steady on Throgar's one good eye. "No," she replied, her voice firm, cool under pressure. "We’re not running from anyone, least of all the Turians. We’re here because of the signature coming from that bunker." She nodded toward the ancient structure, half-buried in the mountainside behind the warlord. "It's transmitting an encrypted signal, and we’re tasked with finding out why."
For a moment, there was silence. Throgar’s grin faded, and he uncrossed his arms, his stance shifting just slightly as if he was suddenly far more interested than he let on. His gaze flicked toward the bunker, then back to Amara, narrowing slightly.
"So… you’re after the same thing I am," Throgar growled. His voice had lost its mocking tone, replaced by a low rumble of consideration. "Not bad, humans. You picked up on something most of your kind would’ve missed."
Griz glanced at Thorn, his finger twitching on the trigger. “Cap, this is bad,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
Thorn ignored him. She couldn’t afford to show doubt now. Not in front of this Krogan.
"We’re not looking for a fight," she said, watching the warlord carefully. "If you're here for the same reason, maybe we can share some intel. Find out what’s in there together."
Throgar snorted, a deep, resonant sound that made the ground seem to tremble beneath their feet. "Humans, always so eager to talk." He took a step forward, his size even more imposing up close. "I didn’t get this far by sharing my spoils, Captain."
Amara stood her ground, despite the instinct to retreat. She met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "And I didn’t come this far to die on some backwater world without finding out what’s in that bunker."
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
Throgar’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment. His lips curled into something that might have been approval, or perhaps he just enjoyed the challenge she represented. It was hard to tell with Krogan. He let out another snort, and this time, it carried a note of amusement.
"Alright then," Throgar said, the gravel in his voice softening just a bit. "You’ve got guts, human. I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that means we’re allies. I’m here to claim whatever’s inside that bunker for myself. If you get in my way… well, I hope you’re faster than you look."
Thorn felt the tension in the air, the thin line between negotiation and violence stretched taut. This could go either way.
"What is inside that bunker, Throgar?" she asked, pressing for just a little more. "You must know more than we do."
The Krogan warlord grinned again, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I know enough," he replied cryptically. "Old tech. Something from before your species even crawled out of its caves. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll live long enough to see it." His gaze flicked briefly to Griz’s rifle, then back to Amara. "Maybe."
Amara knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him. Krogan were many things—warriors, survivors, opportunists—but they weren’t known for sharing knowledge unless it suited their plans.
"You’ve made your point, Warlord," Thorn said, stepping back. "We won’t get in your way. But if we find something… we’ll want our share."
Throgar let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his massive frame shaking. "Humans and their bargaining." He turned his back to them, striding toward the bunker without another word. "Try not to die before we get to the fun part," he called over his shoulder.
Amara exhaled slowly, tension flooding out of her body. Griz lowered his rifle, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That went well," he muttered sarcastically.
Thorn turned to her team, her face hard and determined. "Get ready. We’re going in, but keep your distance from the Krogan. He might let us live, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends."
Griz smirked, his earlier tension giving way to his usual bravado. "You heard the lady. Stay sharp, and for the love of God, don’t piss off the giant lizard."
Amara took one last look at Throgar’s retreating figure. The warlord had given them a narrow window, and she intended to use it.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was inside that bunker was far more dangerous than any Krogan warlord.
The narrow corridor inside the bunker stretched out before them, winding deep into the mountain’s heart. As the group descended further, the air grew thick and hot, almost stifling. The lights flickered and died the deeper they went, until finally, the humans were forced to activate their helmet flashlights, casting narrow beams of light through the oppressive gloom. The beams swept across the walls, revealing ancient murals etched into the metal, alien figures and sprawling cities frozen in time. Each scene seemed to tell a fragment of a story, though one too strange and foreign for human eyes to fully understand.
Throgar Nex, however, moved with the ease of someone who had done this before. His bulky frame navigated the claustrophobic tunnel with unsettling grace for a creature his size, and he didn't bother with a light. The Krogan warlord's vision in the darkness seemed unimpeded, his head turning slightly as if following some unseen path.
The humans followed cautiously, their steps echoing down the long, hollow corridors. The walls were covered with detailed reliefs of thin, tall beings, their limbs elongated and angular, standing among cities that towered so high they seemed to pierce the heavens. These cities dwarfed anything humanity had ever built—spires that stretched endlessly into the sky, with complex structures that defied conventional logic. The murals were unsettling, yet captivating.
Private Joss muttered under his breath, "What the hell are those things? They look… alien, even for aliens."
Throgar stopped for a moment, his deep voice breaking the silence. "Those," he said, nodding toward the walls, "are the Seraphim."
The name hung in the air, unfamiliar and heavy with mystery. Thorn moved closer, her flashlight illuminating the etched images. The beings were graceful, almost ethereal in their depiction, but the landscapes behind them seemed harsh, starkly contrasting their form.
"Seraphim?" Thorn asked, glancing up at the warlord. "Never heard of them."
"Not many have," Throgar replied, his tone casual but laced with a touch of reverence. "They ruled this part of the galaxy about 50,000 years ago, long before any of you humans were even a thought. Almost nothing is known about them now, though some old records mention their empire stretched across systems. Advanced, powerful… and then they just disappeared."
Nezrin, the scientist, piped up from behind, her voice slightly shaky with curiosity. "Disappeared? What happened to them?"
Throgar grunted and moved forward, walking through a door that had clearly been blown apart long ago. The edges of the metal were twisted and scorched, as if something had violently ripped it open.
"If you ask me, something major happened," Throgar said, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous chamber beyond the door. "In less than a hundred years, their empire was gone. Wiped from the galaxy. All that's left are dead worlds and a few cryptic ruins like this one. Most races don’t even know they existed."
Thorn scanned the room as she stepped in after him, her flashlight cutting through the thick, dust-filled air. The chamber was massive, its ceiling towering far above their heads. The floor was littered with debris—broken consoles, shattered glass, and rusted metal that had long since decayed. In the center of the room, a massive, cracked stone tablet lay on the ground, etched with the same alien script that adorned the walls. It was a graveyard of forgotten technology and history.
"What could have done that to them?" Malik asked, the young marine sounding both awed and nervous.
Throgar shrugged, but his tone was dark. "Some nutters say they were attacked by something from void space. The kind of place most civilizations don’t like to think about. You humans call it dark space, right? The vast, empty stretches between galaxies." He snorted, his voice dropping to a lower, graver tone. "But everyone knows there’s nothing in void space."
Griz frowned, his gaze flicking from the murals to Throgar. "Nothing? You sure about that? I’ve heard stories…"
Throgar grunted, his one good eye gleaming in the dim light. "Stories are one thing, human. But the Seraphim were wiped out fast. And whatever hit them… it left no trace."
Amara’s mind raced. The mention of void space sent a chill down her spine. Void space—dark space—was the great unknown. The endless, empty expanses beyond the reach of even the most advanced FTL drives. It was said to be utterly desolate, a graveyard of stars. But the stories, the whispers that traveled between ships in the dark… those were something else.
"Nothing in void space, huh?" she muttered under her breath, though her voice carried just enough for Throgar to hear.
The Krogan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in the chamber. "Believe what you want, Captain. All I know is, the Seraphim aren’t around anymore. And if you ask me, whatever took them down wasn’t something they saw coming."
Nezrin crouched by the stone tablet, running her fingers lightly over the alien script. "This is incredible," she whispered. "This place… it’s not just a ruin. It’s a… a tomb. A record of a lost civilization. We could learn so much from this."
Amara felt the weight of the situation settle over her shoulders. What they had stumbled into was more than just an old ruin. It was the remnants of something vast, something ancient, and something dangerous enough to bring an empire to its knees.
"Stay focused, Nezrin," she ordered softly, her voice tight. "We’re not here for an archaeological dig. We're here for answers. Whatever took these people down, we need to know if it’s still a threat."
Throgar glanced back at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "The only thing you need to worry about right now is getting out of here in one piece."
Amara clenched her jaw. She didn’t like the implications of his words.
"Keep moving," she ordered her team, her voice steady despite the growing knot of tension in her gut. "We find out what's here, and then we get out."
As they pushed deeper into the bunker, the atmosphere grew heavier, the heat suffocating, and a strange static charge began to build in the air. Thorn couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, that something in this place—something ancient—was still alive.
The descent seemed endless, the narrow spiral staircase plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of the ancient bunker. The temperature continued to rise, beads of sweat forming under their helmets as the air grew hotter and more oppressive. Their helmet lights cut through the gloom, illuminating scenes etched into the stone walls—nightmares from a long-forgotten era.
Cities ablaze, their towers crumbling into fire and ash. Ships as tall as skyscrapers, blotting out the sky as they rained destruction below. And most disturbing of all were the figures: grotesque, twisted amalgamations of synthetic and organic life, fused together into horrific creatures. Their monstrous forms loomed over the chaos, their eyes cold and unfeeling, void of any emotion save a hunger for destruction. These beings were no longer merely alive; they had been transformed, corrupted into something alien and terrifying.
Amara's heart pounded in her chest as they continued their march downwards. Each step felt like a descent into hell, with the images on the walls serving as a grim reminder of whatever fate had befallen the Seraphim. The enormity of the destruction captured in the murals hinted at a cataclysm of unimaginable scale. The further they descended, the more Amara couldn't shake the growing sense of dread.
At the bottom of the staircase, the air was thick with dust and heat, the oppressive silence broken only by the sound of their breathing and the crunch of boots on ancient stone. Before them stood a massive door, its surface marred by age and the ravages of time. The intricate carvings across its surface suggested this was a gateway, perhaps to something the Seraphim had been desperate to protect—or hide.
Throgar Nex strode forward, his bulky form making the others feel small in comparison. The Krogan warlord looked almost eager as he reached into his pack and pulled out a bundle of high-grade explosives. With practiced efficiency, he set the charges around the door, securing them in place with an air of grim determination. He glanced back at the humans, his single eye gleaming with something akin to anticipation.
"Stand back," he growled.
Amara signaled for her team to retreat, moving behind a column as Throgar ignited the explosives. The blast that followed was deafening, a violent explosion that shook the entire structure, sending plumes of dust and smoke billowing into the air. The floor beneath them rumbled ominously, and for a terrifying moment, it felt as though the bunker itself might collapse on top of them.
But as the smoke cleared, the door lay in ruins, blown apart by the force of the explosion. Beyond the wreckage was a vast, cavernous room that stretched out into the darkness. Throgar stepped forward, his boots crunching over the debris, his deep voice echoing in the stillness.
"Human," Throgar called out, his tone strangely reverent, "I do believe you’ve found what you were after."
Amara emerged from behind the column, her helmet light cutting through the swirling dust. The sight that greeted her left her speechless.
The room was immense, almost impossibly so, stretching out into the darkness beyond the reach of their lights. And within it, lined up in neat, precise rows, were thousands of pods. Each one was encased in a translucent material, glowing faintly with a cold, pale light. The pods hummed softly, a steady, rhythmic sound like the beating of a heart. Inside each pod, something—someone—was frozen in stasis, suspended between life and death.
Amara stepped forward, her mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of what lay before her. Thousands of pods, perfectly preserved for millennia, untouched by time.
"An ark," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vastness of the chamber.
Behind her, Elara Nezrin stumbled forward, her eyes wide in disbelief. The scientist was visibly shaken, her hand trembling as she reached out toward the nearest pod. She activated her omnitool, scanning the contents of the pod with frantic excitement.
"My god," Nezrin breathed, almost at a loss for words. "We've found an ark. This is… this is the biggest discovery since the Charon Mass Relay."
The room seemed to echo with the magnitude of her words. An ark, a repository of Seraphim life, preserved across the eons. The beings inside the pods looked like the figures depicted on the walls above: tall, elegant, with elongated limbs and thin, angular features. But some of them looked different, their forms more grotesque and warped, as though they had been caught in the process of becoming something else—something more monstrous.
Amara felt the weight of the discovery settle over her like a leaden cloak. This wasn’t just a relic of the past. This was a living, breathing piece of history. The implications were staggering.
Nezrin continued scanning the pods, her voice filled with awe. "This technology… it’s beyond anything we’ve ever seen. It’s almost incomprehensible. The Seraphim weren’t just trying to preserve their people—they were experimenting, trying to… combine organic life with synthetic components. But why?"
Throgar stood near the center of the room, arms crossed, surveying the scene with a satisfied grunt. "Looks like you humans just found your golden ticket. You get this out to the exonet, and your name’ll be remembered across the galaxy."
Nezrin nodded, her face flushed with the excitement of discovery. This was her legacy, her moment of immortality.
But Amara couldn’t shake the cold feeling of unease that crept down her spine. The murals they’d seen on the way down, the twisted creatures that had once been Seraphim… They weren’t just history. They were a warning.
"What if they weren’t experimenting for the sake of discovery?" Amara said quietly, turning to Nezrin. "What if they were desperate? What if this ark isn’t just about preserving their race?"
Nezrin looked up, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Amara gestured to the pods. "This doesn’t feel like a triumph. This feels like a last-ditch effort. Like they were running out of time."
Throgar chuckled darkly. "Smart human. I was thinking the same thing. The Seraphim didn’t leave this place intact by accident."
A deep, resonant hum suddenly echoed through the chamber, vibrating the very air around them. It grew louder, more insistent, until it was almost deafening. One of the pods began to glow brighter, pulsing with light.
"Something’s happening," Griz shouted, taking a defensive stance, his rifle at the ready.
Nezrin’s eyes widened as she frantically scanned the pod. "The systems are activating! It’s—"
A hiss filled the air as the pod’s seal broke, releasing a cloud of gas. The pale, skeletal figure inside began to stir.