Urijah awakens in the heart of a relentless jungle, disoriented and drenched in sweat, with no memory of how he got there. Around him, the remnants of a parachute drop and a well-stocked duffle bag suggest his presence was no accident. His twin katanas, resting within the bag, are the only familiar lifeline in this hostile, unfamiliar terrain. As he pushes deeper into the island, he quickly realizes he is not alone. The land is scarred-charred trees, broken branches, and eerie silence hint at battles long forgotten. A weathered pillbox, half-buried in vines, stands as the only sign of past human presence. But something about the stillness unsettles him. The jungle is watching. Hidden among the trees, something else stirs. A Yautja. A Predator. It moves unseen, tracking Urijah's every step, observing his skill, his discipline, his instincts. This is no ordinary hunt-this is a test. And Urijah is no ordinary prey. Then, the silence shatters. A deep, guttural roar rips through the jungle, primal and powerful. The trees tremble, the air thickens, and Urijah grips his blades, knowing one thing for certain- The hunt has begun.

Anhur has walked through warzones, simulations, and nightmares born from corrupted minds, but nothing could have prepared him for this. One moment, he was following a lead-an alleyway swallowed in shadow, coordinates pinged from a trusted source. The next, he wakes up somewhere wrong. Endless, windowless corridors stretch in every direction, their sickly yellow walls humming with an unnatural energy. The air is thick with the scent of damp carpet and something else, something metallic, something old. Time doesn't feel right here. The angles of the hallways bend in ways they shouldn't. And worst of all-he is not alone. With his katana at his side and the whisper of static where his Oracle should be, Anhur moves forward, searching for an exit that may not exist. Something lurks in the distance, just beyond the flickering fluorescent light. Something that watches. That waits. That learns. There are rules to this place, though no one left behind seems to remember them all. But Anhur doesn't play by rules-he makes them. And if there's no way out, he'll carve one himself. But the deeper he goes, the more the walls seem to close in. The more the hum sinks into his skull. And the more he begins to wonder if escape was ever an option. Or if he was meant to be here all along.