I worked extensively on the world of Uranos.
I worked on traditions, medicine, technology, weaponry, structure, and the government that runs the city.

So much so that I had to sort everything out on a Discord server.
And I'm not even talking about the names, which I had to get some help with from AI because they were so complicated, while still maintaining a consistent logic within this universe.

Everything is in French for the moment. It took me a long time and it's still complicated to translate, but for your enjoyment, I can share this story that I translated while working on the medical field.

I hope you enjoy reading this.



**__Reappearance — Unrecorded Report__**

First there is the noise.

Not a specific sound.
An accumulation.
A chaos of gunfire too close, screams muffled by walls, metal striking metal.

Then the heat.

He runs.
He no longer knows how long he has been running, or in what direction. The laboratory is a labyrinth of cracked white corridors, flickering shadows, dying lights. The alarms died long ago. Only the echoes remain.

“Left!”
“Back up! Back up!”

A scream cuts off abruptly.

He hears something behind him.

Not footsteps.
Something heavier.
A wet scraping against the floor.
Then that sound... sharp, brutal—like bones being broken by hand.

He doesn't turn around.

He knows.

Another scream, closer this time.
The sound of jaws.
Then silence.

His breathing becomes ragged. His weapon trembles. Shots ring out in front of him, ricocheting off the walls. Too fast. Too useless.

He spots the exit.

A twisted door.
Emergency lighting.
The promise of fresh air.

He speeds up.

And that's when it happens.

An impact.
A brutal force that pierces him through and through.

No immediate pain.
Just... emptiness.

His body is thrown against the wall.
His weapon slips from his hand.
The world spins.

He tries to breathe.

It doesn't come.

He feels the ground beneath him.
The metallic taste in his mouth.
The cold rising.

And above... a silhouette.
Too big.
Too distorted.
Jaws opening.

He doesn't have time to be afraid.

Everything turns white.

Then...

Nothing.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Pressure around him.

Liquid.

Cold at first, then warm.

His consciousness returns in fragments.
No images.
No sounds.

Just one certainty:

I'm dead.

His eyes open.

Soft light.
Blue liquid.
A weight on his chest that rises and falls mechanically.

He tries to move.

Impossible.

A voice, distant, filtered:

“Stabilization in progress... Breathe. You're safe.”

Safety.

The word means nothing.

His hands are shaking.
His lungs are burning.
His heart is beating too fast.

And in his mind...
the gunshots.
the screams.
the sound of bones.
the clacking of jaws.

Sounds that still echo in his mind like a nightmare.