The darkness was so dense it felt as though time itself had stopped. Then, suddenly, a piercing alarm shattered the silence, followed by a trembling that made the metal walls groan like a living beast waking from its slumber. The capsules opened slowly, releasing thick white vapor. From within, young bodies staggered out, gasping as if tasting air for the very first time in a century. Bare feet touched the cold steel floor. Whispers spread, carried on uneven breaths:
"Where are we?"
"How long… has it been?"
"Is anyone… out there?"
Before panic could swallow them whole, a flicker of blue light cracked through the gloom. A massive screen on the far wall sputtered to life. Its image was distorted, the sound fragmented, words tearing through static:
"… survivors … you are not … alone …"
"… the catastrophe … one hundred and ten … years ago …"
"… environment changed … lifeforms … dangers … unknown …"
"… basic equipment … near your capsules … gather … do not open … the gates … until—"
The voice broke off mid-sentence. The image froze on half a face, then collapsed into darkness, leaving behind only the faint buzz of dying circuits.
Breaths quickened. Some shouted. Others clung to the supplies beside their capsules. Yet one young man stood silent, his dark eyes sweeping across the chaos, posture unshaken. He spoke no word, but his presence alone seemed to restrain the panic, like an anchor in a storm. From among the crowd, a pair of eyes lingered on him, quietly, with a spark of respect unspoken.
Then, a tall man with sharp northern features stepped forward, his voice steady, carrying the weight of authority.
"Dmitri Sokolov… biologist."
His gaze shifted to the blank screen.
"If what we heard is true, the outside is no longer the world we knew. The climate has shifted. Life must have evolved at a pace beyond imagination. What awaits us out there will not be familiar."
From the other side, a broad-shouldered African man lifted his hand, voice calm amidst the unease.
"Obunga Zolani. Doctor. My task is to keep you alive, at least in body. Let's start by gathering, checking for injuries, and taking stock of what we have."
The tension seemed to loosen, if only for a moment. But then, a shout split the fragile calm:
"Enough! I won't stay here to die!"
A young man broke from the group, rushing toward the sealed metal gate, eyes wild with fear. He slammed his fist against the surface.
"I'll go out now! I'll see for myself what's out there, no matter what!"
The moment his hand touched the gate, the lights cut out. Darkness swallowed the chamber. Then, with a pulse, the lamps flared back to life—bathed not in white, but in a dim, bleeding red. The hall looked drowned in blood. The floor trembled, a weight pressing into their chests.
A shrill hum rose from beneath, followed by a slow crawl of smoke seeping through cracks in the ground. It slithered around their feet first, then climbed higher, until the air itself seemed to thicken with it.
The ground shuddered once more. A metallic groan echoed through the chamber, as if something massive was being dragged upward from the depths. Out of the red fog, shapes began to rise—dark, angular forms breaking through the smoke, humming with a heavy, unnatural resonance that grew louder with each second.