The wind cut steady from the west, cold and dry against their faces as the team moved in silence. Sand

  and grit hissed against fatigues, the scent of damp earth fading behind them with every step away from

  the QTP.

  “Half klick,” Bash murmured, glancing at his wrist display. The faint orange pulse blinked once more,

  a static marker, not live, but enough to lead them in. “Keep the line tight. We’re walking into the wind,

  so scent won’t carry.”

  Rixor nodded, his hammer brushing softly against the reinforced plating of his fatigues, a low, rhythmic

  sound beneath the wind.

  The land began to dip. Sparse brush gave way to stone and dust, then to a steep incline that dropped

  suddenly away beneath their feet. Bash crouched at the edge. Below, the ground curved into a wide

  depression, thirty meters deep at least, a hundred across, perfectly circular.

  “Looks like a crater,” Calen muttered, peering over his shoulder.

  “Old,” Bash said. “Thousands of years maybe.”

  The bowl-shaped hollow had five narrow paths leading in and out, each cut clean through the slope at

  near-equal distances. Inside, thick-trunked trees dotted the terrain, their roots gripping the slope like

  claws. Off center, a mound of jagged rock rose five meters high, split open at the base. The darkness

  there was almost perfect, an entrance.

  Nyra zoomed her scope in. “Den?”

  “Most likely,” Bash said. “If this really is a pack zone, that’s where they hole up.”

  No one moved. They watched for several minutes. The wind sighed through the trees, kicking dust

  along the crater’s rim. Nothing stirred inside.

  Rixor exhaled. “Could be another false beacon.”

  “Maybe,” Bash said, still scanning. “Or they’re asleep.”

  Minutes passed. Still nothing. Calen shifted uneasily. “We calling it?”

  Bash was about to answer when Nyra’s tone changed. “Movement, right path.”

  They turned as one. Across the crater, where one of the trails cut through the slope, something moved,

  large, deliberate, silent. A creature stepped into view, holding something limp in its jaws.

  At first Bash thought it was a shadow, the way the light played along the fur. Then his breath caught.

  It moved with a confidence that made Bash’s chest tighten. Powerful shoulders, dense muscle under

  grey-silver hide, head held low.

  To him, it looked exactly like a wolf from Earth, too much so.

  It carried what looked like a massive rodent, brown-skinned and stone-plated, unmistakably mineral

  type, the lifeless prey hanging from its jaws.

  The creature moved with calm certainty, padding down the slope into the bowl.

  “Definitely not in the usual records,” Nyra whispered.

  Bash’s thoughts raced. “S-C, identify.”

  A pause. Then: “No match in current database. Visual and movement signatures indicate apex predator

  behavior. The prey specimen, Tier One Common, mineral class, is consistent with local fauna. But the

  predator, unknown.”

  “Unknown?” he pressed.

  “Correct. Classification missing. This is… irregular.”

  Bash frowned. “Irregular?”

  “Any apex entry at Tier One is catalogued. This creature is not.”

  He studied the beast through narrowed eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “I am never uncertain,” S-C said coolly.

  He hesitated, then spoke aloud. “Check your Cores,” he told the others. “See if any of you can identify

  it.”

  The group murmured confirmations as each activated their internal diagnostics. One by one, they shook

  their heads.

  “Nothing,” Taren said.

  “Just the prey,” Calen added. “Tier One Common, mineral. That’s it.”

  Bash sighed. “Same here.”

  There was a faint, pointed tone from S-C in his head. “Interesting that you would ask them.”

  “Had to be sure,” he thought quickly. “In case there’s an update I didn’t get, since, you know, my

  glitch...”

  The silence on the other end carried enough resentment to make him wince.

  After a few seconds, S-C replied in clipped tones. “Noted. Your diagnostic updates remain current.”

  “Good,” he muttered under his breath.

  The beast dropped its prey near the rock pile and tore into it with practiced precision, the sound of

  cracking bone faint but unmistakable even from this distance. The team stayed still, crouched behind

  the cliff’s lip, watching in tense silence.

  Nothing else moved. No shapes in the trees, no sound of paws from the tunnels. Just one predator,

  alone.

  “Could be territorial,” Rixor said quietly. “Maybe killed the rest of the pack.”

  “Or the last survivor,” Nyra suggested.

  “Doesn’t add up,” Bash said. “A predator built like that shouldn’t be alone. They hunt in packs,

  balance, hierarchy, defense. Always more than one.”

  “Maybe it’s different here,” Taren offered.

  “Maybe,” he said, though the word came out strained. Something about it clawed at the back of his

  thoughts.

  They waited another ten minutes. Still nothing. The creature finished its meal, dragged the remains

  toward the den entrance, and vanished into shadow.

  Bash scanned the crater once more. No movement. No sound. Only the whisper of wind curling up

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  from below.

  “Call it,” Rixor said finally. “False beacon or lone beast, we’ve seen what we needed.”

  Bash gave a final nod. “Pull back. No reason to risk it.”

  They withdrew quietly, retracing their path through the darkening brush until the faint hum of the QTP

  returned on the breeze.

  Back at camp, they settled around the heater, the glow casting long shadows across their faces. The talk

  came slow at first, reflections, fatigue, uncertainty.

  “So it’s just living there?” Calen asked finally. “One of them?”

  “Looked that way,” Nyra said. “Didn’t seem bothered. Confident. Too confident.”

  Rixor leaned forward. “Could mean it’s been top of the food chain a while.”

  “Could mean it’s waiting for something,” Bash said.

  They all looked his way.

  He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Everything about that behavior’s wrong. Predators like

  that don’t hunt alone. They don’t leave their kills exposed , they drag them to cover or share them.

  That one killed, ate, then disappeared underground. No hesitation. No fear.”

  Liora shrugged. “Maybe it’s not really a wolf. Just looks like one.”

  “Then why isn’t it in the database?” he shot back.

  No one had an answer.

  S-C’s voice hummed faintly in his mind. “I share your concern. Absence of classification indicates a

  data omission or corruption. Either scenario implies interference.”

  “Interference?”

  “Possibly. The lack of telemetry could suggest the Nexus itself is withholding identifiers.”

  “Why would it do that?”

  No reply.

  Bash stared into the low fire, jaw tightening. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said finally, his voice

  low. “That thing wasn’t supposed to be there. And the fact that none of us could identify it? That’s not

  random.”

  Rixor waved him off with a tired smile. “You’re overthinking it. We’ve seen stranger in two days.”

  “Maybe,” Bash said, though his gut told him otherwise.

  He volunteered for first watch. The others ate, joked half-heartedly, then one by one drifted to their

  bedrolls. When silence settled again, Bash moved to the edge of camp, keeping the QTP’s faint hum to

  his back.

  The night was still. The wind had shifted, colder now, carrying the faint sound of water from the river

  far below. He scanned the horizon. Nothing moved.

  You could return, S-C said in his head. Confirm the den’s status. No direct threat detected within two

  klicks.

  “No,” he thought back. “Not worth it.”

  Your vitals are elevated.

  “Just thinking.”

  He stared out into the dark for a long time. The image of the beast kept replaying, those eyes, the

  precise way it carried its kill, the calm authority in its stride. Alone, but not lost.

  Something about that confidence gnawed at him.

  Eventually, the hour passed. He nudged Rixor awake, muttered a few words, and lay down. Sleep came

  slow, thick with unease.

  The team woke before sunrise, the pale light brushing gold across the horizon. The air carried the chill

  of morning and the faint metallic tang of the QTP behind them.

  They ate in silence, each unwrapping protein bars and checking weapons.

  “Ammunition?” Bash asked.

  “Taren and I split,” he said, checking his sidearm. “One-fifty each.”

  “Nyra’s sitting at a hundred,” she added.

  Calen held up a quiver. “One-forty-five.”

  “Good,” Bash said. “We’ve got four hours until we need to be back through the portal. We take this

  thing out, then we go home.”

  For the first time that morning, a few smiles broke through the exhaustion.

  “Let’s finish it,” Rixor said.

  They moved out quickly, retracing the trail back to the crater.

  The light grew stronger as they approached, shadows pulling back from the rock walls. When they

  reached the rim, Bash split the team without hesitation.

  “Calen, Nyra, sniper positions here and here,” he said, pointing to opposite edges of the bowl. “Rixor,

  Liora, Darik, take the far entrances. Wait for the signal.”

  He looked to Taren. “You’re with me.”

  They moved into position, spreading along the bowl’s perimeter like clockwork. The ground below

  looked the same as before, silent, still, deceptively peaceful.

  “Visual confirmation,” Calen whispered through comms. “Target emerging from den.”

  Bash froze. The creature padded out slowly, sunlight glinting along its back. It sat near the rock pile,

  tail flicking once, then lifted its nose to the air.

  “Wait for it to move,” Bash said softly.

  The beast inhaled again, then its head snapped to the side.

  It stared directly toward Rixor’s position, eyes locking on him across the entire distance.

  Then, the glow began.

  Faint at first, thin, pale threads of light tracing under the skin, then brighter, pulsing outward until both

  eyes burned with a cold, white radiance.

  Bash’s gut dropped.

  “Oh no,” he whispered.

  The beast bared its teeth, and the crater seemed to hold its breath.

  The glow deepened, washing the rocks in stark reflection, and the white light flared brighter still.