Chapter 2: Unwelcomed Visitors.

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The hum of the ancient machinery reverberated throughout the massive chamber as the stasis pod slowly hissed open, releasing a thick cloud of mist that swirled around the glowing blue figure inside. The alien within was tall and gaunt, its skin a pale shade of cerulean, glowing faintly with an otherworldly luminescence. Its eyes—black, bottomless pools—reflected the faint light of the room, and as the creature slowly rose from the pod, there was an unnatural grace to its movements, almost as if it were floating above the ground.

The humans stood frozen, a mix of awe and fear in their eyes. For all their advanced technology, nothing in their history had prepared them for a moment like this—a face-to-face encounter with a species as old as the stars, a species that had ruled vast stretches of the galaxy millennia before humanity had even begun to crawl out of its cradle.

But while the humans hesitated, Throgar Nex was already moving. The Krogan warlord gripped his shotgun tight, stepping forward with the deliberate menace of a predator sizing up its prey. His lone eye glinted in the dim light, the scarred remnants of his face twitching with anticipation. He had no plans of letting the humans walk out of here with whatever was in that pod. His loyalty to them only went so far. This was his territory, and if there was something of power to be claimed, he would be the one to claim it.

The air crackled with tension as the alien stepped out of the pod, the mist clinging to its elongated frame like a shroud. Its head tilted ever so slightly as it observed its surroundings, its gaze finally settling on Throgar. For a long moment, neither moved, the air between them thick with unspoken intent.

Then, in a voice that sounded like the slow whisper of a forgotten breeze, the alien spoke.

"A Krogan warrior," it said, its tone curious, as if it were observing some strange phenomenon. The words hung in the air, as though the creature were testing them, trying to understand something that didn't quite fit. "How… odd."

The statement caught everyone off guard, even Throgar. His scarred brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then quickly twisted into a snarl. He stepped forward, leveling his shotgun at the creature's chest. "You know something about us?" he growled, his deep voice echoing ominously in the massive chamber.

The alien's expression remained calm, though its head turned ever so slightly, as if studying him with a detached curiosity. It spoke again, its voice like the low hum of machinery forgotten for eons. "The Krogan were never meant for such a role. It is strange to see them like this… a warrior race. You were once something else."

Throgar's grip on the shotgun tightened, his knuckles whitening under the force. He wasn't the type to be talked down to, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let some ancient relic of a species tell him what his kind were "meant" to be.

"What do you know about the Krogan?" he snapped, his finger twitching near the trigger. "We've been warriors since we crawled out of the muck."

But before the tension could escalate, Captain Amara Thorn stepped forward, her voice cutting through the thick atmosphere like a blade. "Hold on, Throgar. Let's not do anything rash." She turned her gaze to the alien, cautious but curious. "Who are you?"

The alien shifted its focus from Throgar to Amara, and for a moment, it seemed to study her with the same detached interest. Then, with an almost imperceptible bow of its head, it answered.

"I am Nyrathiel Astraeus," it said, the name rolling off its tongue with a strange, melodic cadence. "I was a sentinel of the Seraphim Empire… long before your people knew the stars."

Nyrathiel's words echoed in the cavernous chamber, the weight of its history pressing down on the humans. Elara Nezrin stepped closer, her omnitool flickering as it continued to record everything. She could hardly contain her excitement. "A Seraphim," she whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "You're real. You're… alive."

"Alive?" Nyrathiel's lips curled into what might have been a smile, though it was a cold, humorless expression. "In a manner of speaking. I have been in stasis for many millennia. I am perhaps the last of my kind to awaken." Its black eyes drifted over the rows of pods behind them, the faint glow of the sleeping figures casting long shadows across the room. "This ark was meant to preserve us… but we were too late."

"Too late for what?" Amara pressed, her tone becoming more urgent.

Nyrathiel turned its gaze back to her, its eyes dark and fathomless. "We were consumed by something far greater than ourselves. We fought, we tried to resist… but in the end, we could not stop it."

There was a pause, a deep silence that hung like a shroud over the team. The humans exchanged uneasy glances. Nezrin's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of history they had uncovered. "The murals… the twisted beings we saw on the way down. What were they?"

Nyrathiel's expression darkened, its voice growing cold and distant. "Those were once Seraphim. They were… corrupted. Transformed by a force from beyond. We called it the Abyssal Hunger. A force that devoured both flesh and machine, reshaping us into monstrosities—half-organic, half-synthetic abominations. Those you saw on the walls were once our people, twisted into something else. Something unrecognizable."

The air grew colder with each word, the weight of the Seraphim's tragedy settling over the room like a suffocating fog. Amara felt a chill crawl down her spine. The Abyssal Hunger… a force from beyond. Dark space. Void space. The Seraphim had fallen to something unimaginable.

"Why are you still alive?" Thorn asked, her voice cutting through the tension.

Nyrathiel's gaze settled on her, as if considering how to answer. "I was chosen to be one of the sentinels of our ark. We hoped that, by preserving a fraction of our species, we might survive long enough to find a solution. We placed ourselves in stasis, waiting for the day when we might rise again. But it seems… that day has long passed."

Throgar stepped forward, his shotgun still trained on the Seraphim. "So you're saying that whatever wiped out your people is still out there? Still waiting in the dark?"

Nyrathiel's cold eyes locked onto Throgar's. "It never left. The Hunger waits, as it always has. And now, it is awake once more."

Amara's heart sank as the implications hit her like a freight train. If this force—the Abyssal Hunger—was still out there, it was a threat not just to the Seraphim, but to every species in the galaxy. This was far more than an archaeological discovery. This was a harbinger of something far worse.

"We need to leave," Amara said, her voice tight with urgency. "We need to get this information out to the Council."

But before anyone could move, the room seemed to shudder, a low, distant rumble shaking the very foundations of the bunker. Nyrathiel's gaze shifted to the walls, its expression unreadable.

"It seems," the alien said softly, "that we are no longer alone."

Amara's heart lurched as she spun toward the opening, her instincts kicking in before her mind fully processed what was happening. The faint rumble that had echoed through the chamber moments ago now made sense—there were intruders. And they weren't friendly.

Twelve Batarians, led by a particularly brutish figure with sickly green skin and a sneer that oozed malice, strode confidently into the massive room. Their four eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, scanning the ancient chamber as if they had already claimed it as their own. The leader's eyes locked onto Amara and her team, his sneer widening into a grin that sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.

"So this is why you apes are here," the Batarian leader growled, his voice thick with condescension. He took a step forward, his posture dripping with arrogance, as his eyes roamed over the humans—particularly Amara and Elara Nezrin. "This place belongs to us now. Drop your weapons, and we may allow you females to live as our slaves."

The venomous tone in his voice was unmistakable, the leering suggestion in his words hanging in the air like a stench. Amara's grip on her assault rifle tightened, her knuckles turning white as her blood boiled. She could feel Griz shifting beside her, the sniper's fingers twitching near the trigger of his MR-1 rifle, the disgust in his eyes mirroring her own. Even Nezrin, normally calm and analytical, bristled at the Batarian's words.

But it was Throgar who moved first.

With a low growl rumbling deep in his throat, the Krogan warlord took a step forward, positioning himself between the humans and the Batarians. His shotgun was still in his massive hands, the barrel pointed down, but there was no mistaking the deadly intent in his stance. His single eye locked onto the Batarian leader, and his lips curled into a cruel, toothy grin.

"You're going to regret that," Throgar said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. There was a dark gleam of amusement in his eye, as if the thought of tearing through a dozen Batarians was little more than an afternoon's entertainment.

The Batarian leader laughed, a harsh, barking sound that echoed off the stone walls of the ancient bunker. "You think I'm afraid of a Krogan mercenary?" he sneered. "We've killed plenty of your kind before."

Throgar's grin widened, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Then you've never fought me."

The tension in the room snapped taut, like a wire pulled to the breaking point. Amara's mind raced, calculating the odds. Twelve Batarians, well-armed and clearly not here for negotiations. They had no chance of talking their way out of this. Her team was outnumbered, but not outgunned—and they had Throgar. But more than anything, they had something far more valuable: the knowledge they had just uncovered. The Seraphim, the Abyssal Hunger, the ark… it was too important to fall into the hands of slavers and scavengers.

Amara raised her hand in a quick signal, a gesture her team knew well. Prepare for a fight.

Gregor "Griz" Anvar, standing beside her, gave a curt nod, his rifle already leveled toward the lead Batarian's head. There was no hesitation in his movements, his sniper instincts kicking in as he took aim.

Elara Nezrin moved behind cover, her fingers dancing across her omnitool, preparing whatever defensive measures she could pull together in the chaos. If they were going to make it out of here, they'd need more than just brute force—they'd need to outthink their enemies.

"You're making a mistake," Amara said, her voice calm but firm, trying to buy a few precious seconds. "This place is far more dangerous than you realize. You don't know what you're dealing with."

The Batarian leader snorted in contempt. "I don't need your warnings, human. We'll take what we want. And I'll make sure you scream while we do it."

Amara's eyes narrowed, and the time for words was over. She dropped to one knee, leveling her assault rifle at the nearest Batarian as her team sprang into action.

The first shot rang out, a crack from Griz's sniper rifle that echoed across the chamber like thunder. The Batarian leader's head snapped back, his body crumpling to the floor before he even realized what had happened. A spray of dark blood splattered across the ancient stone floor, and for a split second, the remaining Batarians were frozen in shock.

That moment was all Throgar needed.

With a guttural roar, the Krogan warlord surged forward, his shotgun roaring as he closed the distance between himself and the nearest Batarian. The blast tore through the alien's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap of shredded armor and broken flesh. Throgar didn't slow down, moving with the relentless aggression of a living battering ram. His massive form was a blur of motion as he waded into the fray, his shotgun barking with each step, every shot reducing another Batarian to a bloody heap on the ground.

The Batarians scrambled, firing wildly at the Krogan, but their bullets barely slowed him. His heavy armor absorbed the worst of the impacts, and the sheer force of his charge was enough to send them into disarray.

Amara took advantage of the chaos, her team moving with practiced precision. She fired controlled bursts, each shot finding its mark. Griz took up position behind a broken column, picking off enemies with deadly accuracy, his sniper rifle silencing any Batarian foolish enough to poke their head out of cover. Elara's omnitool flared to life, sending out a pulse of energy that disabled the shields of two nearby enemies, leaving them vulnerable to Amara's gunfire.

Despite their numbers, the Batarians were no match for the coordinated assault. Within moments, half their group lay dead or dying, their bodies scattered across the stone floor like discarded puppets. But the remaining six were still dangerous, and they were quickly regrouping, retreating to the entrance where they could funnel the humans into a deadly choke point.

As the Batarians began to fall back, Nyrathiel Astraeus finally spoke. The Seraphim had stood still throughout the battle, its black eyes watching the carnage with a detached, almost clinical interest. But now, as the remaining Batarians gathered near the entrance, it raised a slender hand, the air around it shimmering with power.

"They seek to claim what is not theirs," Nyrathiel said, its voice calm but edged with a strange finality. "They will not leave."

Amara felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as a pulse of energy rippled through the air. The Seraphim's hand glowed brighter, and a shockwave exploded from its body, hitting the remaining Batarians like a tidal wave. Their bodies convulsed as the energy coursed through them, their weapons falling from their hands as they crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The chamber fell silent once more.

Amara exhaled slowly, lowering her rifle. She exchanged a glance with her team, then turned to Nyrathiel. "What… what did you just do?"

Nyrathiel lowered its hand, its black eyes meeting hers. "They were unworthy."

Throgar chuckled darkly, wiping the blood from his shotgun with a satisfied grunt. "Remind me not to piss that thing off."

Amara's thoughts raced as she surveyed the room. They had won—for now. But the true threat wasn't the Batarians. The true threat was the reason this place had been hidden, and the force that had wiped out the Seraphim.

The Abyssal Hunger was still out there. And they had just awoken something it would come looking for.

"Let's get moving," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "We're not staying to find out what else is down here."

As Amara prepared to order her team to leave, Nyrathiel spoke up one last time. "This may prove useful to you. My people had scant opportunity to study the threat that came for them. Yet, I sense time remains for you. May the gods see it so," he intoned cryptically. In an instant, he collapsed, his form lifeless.

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Elara Nezrin stepped forward, her omnitool immediately engaging in a scan of Nyrathiel's body. After a few tense moments, she shook her head solemnly. "He's dead," she said softly, her voice a mix of awe and sorrow. "Just like that."

Amara's gaze lingered on the still form of Nyrathiel. The ancient Seraphim, a relic from a time long before their own, had perished abruptly, leaving behind ominous words about an impending danger. The reference to "that which came for them" twisted her stomach into knots. Whatever force had annihilated the Seraphim was still out there, and they had just stirred something that could lead it directly to them.

Throgar emitted a low, frustrated growl as he nudged Nyrathiel's motionless body with his boot. "Fragile thing for an ancient alien," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What was the point of all that, then?"

Amara wasn't sure of the answer. Nyrathiel's final words gnawed at her, hinting at a sense of urgency and a dwindling time. The Seraphim had been powerless to prevent the catastrophe that befell them, but their final message might offer a clue or a warning. The mention of time—time that might still be available to humanity, unlike the Seraphim—was a cryptic puzzle. But what did it mean?

Gregor "Griz" Anvar approached cautiously, his rifle at the ready. His gaze shifted to the rows of dormant pods lining the walls. "Captain," he said, nodding towards one of the other chambers. "If these pods contain more like him, we could be facing a serious problem."

Amara turned to the pods, their sheer number overwhelming. Thousands of dormant beings, each potentially as fragile or as weakened by time as Nyrathiel. The implications were immense. Could humanity study these pods to glean insights into the Seraphim's fate? Or would their attempts to uncover the past unleash even greater dangers?

Shaking off the swirling doubts, Amara focused on the immediate task. "We need to gather as much data as possible," she said decisively. "Elara, extract any useful information from the control systems. We need everything we can get—details about the Seraphim, their technology, and whatever it was they were fighting."

Elara nodded, her fingers flying over her omnitool as she interfaced with the alien systems. The ancient technology responded sluggishly, its mechanisms deteriorated after millennia of inactivity, but she persisted. "It'll take some time," she said. "But I'll get what I can."

Griz positioned himself at the entrance, eyes scanning for any further threats. The remaining Batarians had either fled or been dispatched, but there was no telling if other parties might come seeking the secrets within this ancient place. Throgar stood near Nyrathiel's body, his expression unreadable as he scrutinized the room filled with dormant pods.

"You think whatever they were fighting is still out there?" Throgar asked gruffly, his gaze shifting to Amara. "This Abyssal Hunger?"

Amara clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "If it was capable of eradicating the Seraphim, it's not something we can ignore. Whatever it is, we need to be prepared."

At that moment, Elara's omnitool emitted a series of urgent beeps. She looked up, her face pale as she absorbed the data. "Captain… I've found something. It's an automated distress signal. It's broadcasting from deep space, coordinates I've never seen before. The Seraphim sent it out just before they went dark. They were calling for help."

Amara's blood chilled. "Calling for help from what?"

Elara's fingers moved rapidly over her omnitool, decoding the distress signal. Her face drained of color as she absorbed the gravity of the message.

"We need to get this back to Earth," Amara said firmly. "And Throgar should come with us. He might know more, given that he was here before we even knew this place existed."

With a curt nod, Amara gave the order for her team to leave. The urgency in her voice was clear—time was of the essence, and she had no intention of lingering on this sweltering, humid world a moment longer than necessary. The Seraphim's cryptic warning and the presence of the Batarians had made it clear that their mission was far from over, but the immediate priority was to get back to the surface and establish communication with their ship.

"Once we're back on the surface, try to contact the ship," Amara instructed, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "If there's one group of Batarians, there could be more. We need to be prepared for any eventuality."

Her team responded with nods of agreement, their expressions grim but resolute. The oppressive heat and humidity of the bunker were a stark contrast to the cool air they had experienced moments ago. As they ascended the ancient stone staircase, their flashlights cut through the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the walls adorned with faded murals of long-forgotten cities and battles.

Elara Nezrin, still working diligently on her omnitool, kept a wary eye on their surroundings. The data she was extracting from the ancient systems was crucial, but the threat of additional Batarian forces loomed large in her mind. She needed to ensure they had a clear path to safety and that any potential threats were dealt with promptly.

Griz Anvar kept his rifle at the ready, his gaze scanning the dimly lit staircase for any signs of movement. The sniper was on high alert, his training making him particularly sensitive to the sounds and sights of potential danger. His instinct told him that the threat wasn't over, and he remained vigilant as they climbed.

Throgar, meanwhile, followed behind the team, his massive form an imposing silhouette against the flickering light of their flashlights. Despite the tension, he seemed somewhat detached, his thoughts clearly on the implications of what they had discovered. Amara had given him the choice to join them or not, and he had chosen to follow, his interest in the Seraphim and their technology evidently outweighing his initial intention to claim the bunker for himself.

As they neared the surface, the air grew cooler, a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the lower levels. Amara led the way, her mind already racing with plans for their next steps. The distress signal they had found was a crucial piece of the puzzle, and she knew they needed to act quickly to decipher its full meaning and implications.

The stone staircase finally gave way to the exterior, and Amara took a deep breath of fresh air, her senses temporarily overwhelmed by the transition from the underground bunker to the lush, verdant surface of Verdantia. She quickly pulled out her comms device, attempting to establish contact with their ship. The dense foliage and towering trees formed a thick canopy above them, casting deep shadows across the landscape.

"Captain Thorn, this is the Dauntless," came the crackling voice of the ship's pilot through the comms. "We're picking up a faint signal from your location. What's your status?"

"We've encountered Batarians," Amara reported tersely. "We need to secure our position and prepare for a potential engagement. Have the crew be on high alert and ready for extraction. We'll need to be prepared for anything."

"Acknowledged. We'll be on standby for further instructions. We're scanning for any additional signals or threats in the area," the pilot replied. "Stay safe out there."

Amara pocketed her comms device and turned to her team, her expression serious. "We need to keep moving. Stay alert and be prepared for any incoming threats. We've seen what the Batarians are capable of, and there's no telling if more are on the way."

As they made their way through the dense jungle, the team's senses were heightened, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs setting their nerves on edge. The lush environment was beautiful but deceptive, hiding potential dangers among its vibrant flora.

Throgar walked alongside them, his massive form a reassuring presence in the chaotic jungle. Though he had initially seemed more interested in the artifacts and technology, it was clear that his experience and knowledge of dangerous situations were an asset. The Krogan's eyes scanned the surroundings with a practiced gaze, his attention shifting between the dense foliage and the path ahead.

Elara's omnitool continued to hum with activity as she worked to extract data and ensure their communications were secure. She glanced over at Amara, her face set in concentration. "Captain, I'm getting a more detailed readout on the distress signal. It's coming from an uncharted region of space, and it's definitely linked to the Seraphim. This could be crucial."

"Good," Amara said, her voice steady. "We need every piece of information we can get. Let's focus on getting back to the ship and analyzing this data. The sooner we understand what the Seraphim were dealing with, the better."

As they pushed through the jungle, the sounds of the alien world seemed to close in around them. The heat and humidity were oppressive, but they pressed on, driven by the urgency of their mission and the looming threat of whatever had wiped out the Seraphim.

The jungle eventually gave way to a clearing where the Dauntless awaited, its sleek hull a stark contrast to the surrounding wilderness. The ship's landing lights illuminated the area, offering a beacon of safety amid the encroaching darkness.

With a sigh of relief, Amara led her team onto the ship, their exhaustion palpable but their resolve unshaken. The data they had gathered and the distress signal they had uncovered were just the beginning. The true challenge lay ahead as they prepared to confront the mysterious threat that had once decimated an ancient civilization—and was now poised to potentially threaten theirs.

"Alright, let's get to work," Amara said, her tone resolute as she glanced around at her team. "We've got a lot of data to analyze and a warning to deliver. This is only the beginning."

Once aboard the Dauntless, the atmosphere shifted from tense to a mix of relief and apprehension as the ship's crew swiftly began preparing for departure. Darius Davenport, the ship's seasoned pilot, maneuvered his vessel with practiced ease. His sharp blue eyes darted between the various computer terminals, scanning for any signs of unwanted ships or anomalies.

With a hum of the ship's engines and a soft vibration as the Dauntless began its ascent, Darius turned his attention to Captain Amara Thorn. His face, usually a mask of concentration, now bore a hint of curiosity and concern. "The relay is ten minutes out, Captain," he said, his voice steady but edged with impatience. "So, how about filling us in on what the hell just happened? And, by the way, who the hell is this oversized lizard?"

Amara met Darius's gaze, her expression a blend of weariness and resolve. "I'll explain everything in detail, but first, let's get clear of any immediate threats," she replied. She glanced around at her team, ensuring everyone was secure and ready for the debriefing.

Throgar Nex, the imposing Krogan warlord, stood in the corner of the ship's cargo bay, his massive frame a stark contrast to the sleek, modern interior of the Dauntless. His presence was an anomaly in the familiar confines of the starship, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

"Alright, everyone," Amara began, her voice carrying a commanding presence despite her exhaustion. "Here's the situation: We discovered an ancient Seraphim facility on Verdantia. The Seraphim were a highly advanced species that ruled this part of the galaxy around 50,000 years ago. Their downfall remains a mystery, but what we found indicates that they were wiped out by something catastrophic."

She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to sink in. The crew of the Dauntless listened intently, their faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"We encountered one of the Seraphim, a being named Nyrathiel Astraeus. He provided us with a cryptic warning about a threat that had come for his people—a threat that might still be out there. Before he could elaborate, he died suddenly. His final words hinted at a danger that we might be facing ourselves."

Darius's brow furrowed, clearly intrigued but also skeptical. "And this 'oversized lizard'—I mean Throgar Nex—what's his role in all this?"

Amara turned to Throgar, who stood with his arms crossed, his one eye observing the crew with a mix of disdain and curiosity. "Throgar Nex is a Krogan warlord. He was already on Verdantia, interested in the same Seraphim technology we were. We initially had a tense standoff, but given the gravity of what we found, I decided it was in our best interest to have him accompany us. He might have insights into the Seraphim and their technology that could be valuable."

Throgar snorted at the mention of his title but remained silent. His presence, while imposing, was now overshadowed by the urgency of the situation.

Darius turned back to the controls, his attention shifting momentarily to the readouts. "So, we're heading back to Earth with this information. What's the plan once we get there?"

"First," Amara said firmly, "we need to analyze the data we collected from the Seraphim facility. We need to understand what wiped them out and determine if it poses a threat to us. The distress signal we found is crucial; it might lead us to more information about this 'Abyssal Hunger'—whatever it is."

Elara Nezrin, who had been busy interfacing with the ship's systems to extract and secure the data, stepped forward. "I've started preliminary analysis on the data, but it'll take time to fully understand it. The distress signal is an automated broadcast, and we need to decode its full message to uncover the details."

Amara nodded, acknowledging the importance of their task. "In the meantime, keep an eye on any potential threats. We don't know if our discovery has attracted unwanted attention. Throgar, you're here as a potential ally, but keep in mind that our priority is the safety of our crew and the mission."

Throgar's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a curt nod, acknowledging the order. "Understood. I'll cooperate—provided my interests are considered."

As the Dauntless continued its ascent toward the relay, the crew focused on their respective tasks. The weight of their discovery hung heavily in the air, the knowledge that they had uncovered something both monumental and potentially perilous fueling their determination.

Amara glanced out the viewport, watching as Verdantia shrank below them, a vivid green world now tinged with the sense of ominous secrets and potential dangers. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the crew of the Dauntless was resolute. Their mission was far from over, and the answers they sought would shape the course of their future.