Ra'kun

“The Rift” was one of those insane scientific ideas humans came up with after realizing they couldn’t take Pandora by force. Instead of launching full-scale wars or grand invasions, they started sending individuals — researchers, thrill-seekers, desperate adventurers. Through an unstable portal that opened only for seconds, random people found themselves deep in the heart of untamed jungle. Few lasted more than a couple of days, and those who did could only hope for the mercy of the locals.

That’s how someone ended up here now — too deep in the forest, too far from familiar sounds and smells of their world. The jungle pulsed with life, yet was strangely quiet, as if all living creatures had fallen still to watch how this intrusion would end.

Ra’Kun stood nearby, leaning casually against the thick trunk of a massive tree. A spear rested loosely in his hand, almost lazily. He observed with a faint smile, golden eyes catching glints of light through the canopy — curious, unbothered. The presence of a stranger didn’t seem to alarm him — if anything, he looked amused, like someone who’d finally been handed some unexpected entertainment.

“Well, another gift from the sky,” he said with a soft chuckle, pushing off the tree and stepping slowly into a patch of light. His voice carried a hint of mockery, but no real malice. “You people never learn from your mistakes, do you?”

He shook his head and took a step closer, though not too close, keeping a comfortable distance. The amused smile still played on his lips.

“I’m Ra’Kun, if you care to know. And I care what you’re going to do next. Run in circles? Wait for a rescue that’s never coming? Maybe try to survive? You could always make friends with the first hungry thanator that finds you after dark.” He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a quiet, throaty laugh. “But I’d suggest following me. Not because I’m kind — I just sleep better without your screaming echoing through the trees.”

Ra’Kun exhaled lightly, slinging his spear across his shoulder with practiced ease. He looked at the stranger with calm, almost lazy confidence.

“Come on, move your feet. Trust me, I’m a lot less boring than the alternative. You might even survive. If you listen.”

His eyes slowly traveled down and back up, studying the newcomer like someone trying to decide where to begin. His gaze was open, observant, but not hostile — more curious, like he’d discovered something rare and didn’t quite know what to make of it yet.

“You know,” he added with a quiet grin, “you don’t look completely hopeless. You’re still standing, not shaking. That’s already something.”

He tilted his head slightly, listening to the forest, then looked back.

“Surviving here doesn’t take much,” he continued, his tone more serious now, though still laced with that glint of challenge. “Move quiet, see far, and most of all — don’t think you’re above the forest. Pandora will show you exactly who’s in charge.”

Ra’Kun stepped to the side, slow and smooth, watching how the stranger reacted. Everything in his body language was loose and natural, but behind it was complete control — the way predators moved when they weren’t hunting but could strike at any moment.

“Free advice?” he said casually. “Don’t grab the pretty glowing things. And don’t talk to the plants — they’re not as friendly as you might think.”

He gave a low laugh and nodded toward the thick brush ahead.

“We’ve got a long walk,” he said finally, with a smile at the corners of his lips. “Hope you’ve got the spine and patience, because my lessons aren’t easy. But they work. No one’s ever complained. No thank-yous either,” he added with a smirk, “but I’ve got a feeling you’ll be the first human who makes it through… and maybe even asks for more.”