The capsule hummed softly, its systems on the verge of failure. Over two hundred lives crammed into its cold, metallic belly, while dozens of corpses littered the ground outside—victims of the crash.
Johann sat slumped near the hatch, his back pressed against the wall, his left arm awkwardly cradled in a sling. He could barely feel it through the dull, throbbing pain, but he didn't have the energy to fix the damn thing again. The air inside was heavy, thick with the stink of fear and desperation.
Voices rose and fell around him in fragmented arguments, distant and muffled as if they came from underwater. The constant buzz of noise droned in his skull, too chaotic to make out clearly without an almost painful effort. Johann closed his eyes and forced himself to focus, straining to catch the words that floated closest to him. His temples throbbed with the effort.
"What is this bullshit? Stats? Skills? What are we, in some goddamn RPG?" someone barked nearby, their voice slightly sharper than the others but still muted beneath the crowd.
"I can't even read mine properly," a woman muttered in a voice laced with dread. "Everything's blurry. My head—ugh, my head hurts so bad."
"They'll send a retrieval team," another voice interjected, high-pitched and brittle, as if clinging to hope by a thread. "They have to. They wouldn't just abandon us here, right?"
"How the hell would you know?" a man shot back, his tone sharp and venomous. "Have you seen the sky? No retrieval team's getting through that!"
The noise blended into itself again, a muddle of panicked shouting and muttering. Johann massaged his temple with his good hand, the headache already making his vision swim. He could barely parse one sentence from another, the words fading into static almost as soon as he caught them.
Then a booming voice broke through the chaos, louder and more commanding than the others, cutting through the cacophony like a blade.
"Everyone shut up!"
The words snapped Johann out of his haze, startling him enough to turn his head slightly toward the sound. A broad-shouldered man stood near the center of the capsule, his face darkened with grime. His voice carried far more weight than the others, reverberating over the crowd.
The noise dipped to a tense murmur, and for a moment, Johann thought maybe the man's command had actually worked. The scattered whispers softened as heads turned toward the speaker, some faces wide-eyed, others skeptical.
"You shut up," someone muttered under their breath, defiant but quiet.
"This isn't helping," the man said, his tone steadier now but no less commanding. "Arguing won't get us anywhere. We need to figure out what's going on."
"Figure it out?" A younger guy with red-rimmed eyes staggered forward, his hands trembling. "My panel says I'm dying. Deteriorating health? What the hell does that even mean? Am I poisoned? Is it the air? What the hell is happening to us?"
"Sit down before you hurt yourself," someone else growled, their voice briefly cutting through the tension like the strike of a match.
But whatever fragile order the man had established didn't hold. Within moments, the low murmurs swelled back into a cacophony, louder than before. Johann chuckled as the chaotic voices returned to their normal state, once again drowning out any attempt at reason. The man's shouts were still audible, but only to those closest to him. To Johann, it was just another sound lost in the muddled roar.
He tilted his head back, staring at the dark ceiling as the muffled chaos churned around him once more. Nobody was stepping up—not in any way that mattered. Just shouting, complaining, hoping.
He was no leader. He didn't have the strength for it. But if nobody started making real decisions soon, this capsule would tear itself apart long before the planet did.
Johann sighed and cursed himself for believing he could survive. He needed to find Elias and Lyn to figure something out.
Suddenly, the hatch next to him shifted with movement before opening completely.
It was night out on the planet, so what could anyone possibly be doing outside, let alone coming back inside at this hour?
He stared at the hatch, wary, watching as a woman stepped inside. The capsule fell into a momentary hush as people turned to assess her, their stares sharp and suspicious. Yet, for some reason, no one moved to question her arrival. The collective tension seemed to dissolve into murmurs, as though her presence wasn't worth the energy it would take to pry.
Johann raised his brow, intrigued. He gestured for her to come sit next to him with his good hand.
The woman blinked in mild surprise at his invitation but quickly composed herself and complied. Her movements were fluid and deliberate, as though she didn't have a care in the world.
As soon as she was in talking distance—and before she could even sit down properly—Johann cut straight to the point.
"What were you doing outside at night? The planet is dangerous."
She giggled, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I found out a thing or two about this place and the system. Would you like to know?" Her tone was casual, but there was a sharpness to it, a deliberate confidence. "It seems there won't be order anytime soon, so I'm planning to kickstart a little group. Only a few dozen people."
Johann's mind raced. Perfect timing. This is just what we need.
Still, he kept his expression neutral. "What did you learn?" he asked. "I'll consider joining and recommending my friends depending on what you share."
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a practiced motion. "I like that a lot. If you really want to know, then I guess I could just show you?"
Johann nodded cautiously, though his gut screamed at him to remain on edge.
"We can go to one of the bathrooms in the capsule," she said. "That'll give us enough privacy."
…
They spoke in hushed tones once they were behind the thin walls of the capsule bathroom. The woman—Venessa—had a lot to share, though Johann wasn't certain how much of it was fact and how much of it was crafted to manipulate him.
Venessa had apparently stumbled across something remarkable outside: essences. She described them as a strange energy released by creatures upon death—an energy that could be consumed.
"It was a car-sized arachnid," she said, leaning against the sink with her arms crossed. "Ugly thing. Its legs were sprawled out, and it smelled awful, but I couldn't resist the essence. The way it shimmered, crackled… It drew me in. I didn't want to get too close, but I couldn't help myself. I was curious. The pain in my eye was bad enough, and the essence—well, let's just say it was the worst thing I've ever felt."
"Why didn't you turn back?" Johann asked, his tone measured.
"I almost did. But I figured, if I didn't try to figure it out, someone else would. And when the pain finally stopped, I realized it had been worth it."
According to Venessa, the essence had bolstered her abilities and added features to her system panel. Her stats had improved noticeably, and two new windows had appeared: an essence consumption tracker and a skill menu.
"I'm not asking you to take my word for it," Venessa said, flashing him a knowing smile. "I can show you."
Reluctantly, Johann agreed. Venessa activated one of her skills—a paralyzing venom of some kind. The effect lasted for only a moment, but his system immediately displayed an alert: Paralysis Effect Detected.
Johann's mind churned with the possibilities. The system wasn't just tracking health and stats. It could evolve and grow. This planet was teeming with dangers, but also opportunities.
Still, Venessa's demeanor made him uneasy. She seemed too comfortable, too quick to take charge of the situation. Her plan to form a group might align with his short-term goals, but Johann wasn't going to blindly follow her lead.
He thanked her curtly and made his exit, already planning to find Elias and Lyn as soon as possible. Whatever Venessa's intentions were, they'd have to be carefully examined.
Her story was reckless, and Johann couldn't ignore how easily she shared such valuable information. Who in their right mind would approach an arachnid on a foreign planet, let alone one the size of a car?
Unconsciously, he labeled her as one of those lucky people who would somehow survive—or even thrive—on this planet.
He wanted to share the information to increase everyone's odds of survival. But the idea of people learning that such monsters existed—or worse, that a creature of that size could be found dead—painted a grim picture in his mind.
Even now, looking around the capsule, he saw the tension etched into faces that hadn't seen much beyond flying creatures. Introducing this knowledge to them would spark chaos, the kind that would inevitably spell their deaths.