There is a sector in the universe where maps end and nightmares multiply…
…no chart survives long enough to be updated. This rotten and fractured side of the universe is just pure damnation.
The living hell of criminals.
The Thelarians thrive. Outcast by every civilized world, they were the first to vanish into this place—and the last to return sane. If they return at all.
No law dares stretch here. No alliance holds. Criminal syndicates that once terrorized this galaxy now cower behind shielded moons, praying they aren't hunted next. Everything here is blindly hunting each other.
Last five thousand years saw The Dark Galaxy into place it had become, from uninhabited galaxy where criminals once used to rule.
It's not just pirates or warlords anymore—a cluster inside it called The Eclipse Corridor gave rise to new monstrosities.
Abominations. Forgotten experiments. Entire species stitched from war and decay.
Among them roam the Ash-Born, intelligent zombies… human like, dog like, and many forms… with fractured memories and endless hunger. They serve nothing, only the signal they call The Black Pulse. Some say it's a dying AI that once ruled a planet and now seeks bodies instead of data.
Creepy Species thrive…
– Venus Flytrap Ships: Sentient ships with digestive hulls, feeding on organics and synthetics alike.
– Graveborn Skulls: Self-replicating rulers who reign over dead clones of themselves.
– Blind Seers: Alien worms that speak only in prophecy and infestation.
– Cortex Swarms: Lost AI minds trapped in signal-form, burning through networks in search of neural access.
– Skincrawlers: wet-limbed crawling horrors infesting ship hulls and inside walls. They begin like rats or mice, hiding in corners and multiply until the nest bursts. Then, they eat everything that's flesh then they eat each other when nothing is left.
And these are only known abominations, through survivors tales. The unknown, they that they are much worst.
The worst tale is about The Maw, wandering gravity wells shaped like a mouth—consuming ships, signals, even memories. Those who enter orbit forget who they are before they scream.
The most important aspect of this godforsaken place is also the one the Intergalactic Committee fleets surrounding the Galaxy do not leave it unmonitored. The IC spends fortune just to keep track of what goes in and what comes out.
The Dark Galaxy has an entity and organisation or something… an intelligence. No one knows the truth but the truth that they exist. It is because from time to time, malicious forces emerge from The Dark Galaxy and cause Havoc upon peaceful civilizations in the universe.
It is thought that they hide behind the horrors of The Dark Galaxy, they have technologies and weapons as their means of survival, advanced enough to survive such harsh environments. They… are out of the reach of the law. It was well established though that the Thelarians and that intelligent network were two different things.
They aren't wild terrors, but calculated ghosts—something watches from the black, studies, adapts. No diplomacy, no contact—just attacks too surgical to be random. Every wave of horror feels like a test, or worse, a message. Something is orchestrating the madness. The Intergalactic Council calls it 'The Void Threat' in its top secret files.
The Void Threat is the only reason this galaxy is known. Otherwise, the nightmares it breeds, the universal would rather completely forget it and stay away from its shadow.
The Dark Galaxy swarms with grotesque horrors: Rift Stalkers, sleek predators that phase through matter to ambush prey; Bonefiends, skeletal scavengers who gnaw on starship hulls; and the Whisper Moths, whose wings emit maddening frequencies driving victims to insanity. Hollowborn Shades haunt the shadows—ghostlike remnants of lost souls fused with dark energy, forever bound to their torment.
Gigantic Iron Titans roam debris fields—ancient war machines fused with living tissue, their steps shaking entire asteroids. Shadow Lurkers—massive, shape-shifting beasts—slither in the void's cold dark, hunting with ruthlessly.
Among the most feared are the Swarmbearers—dead alien pirates. When they descend on a planet or ship, they unleash vast swarms bred in voidcrates: fleshstripping mites, acid-fed scarabs, and boneburrowers. The swarm consumes everything—tech, flesh, life, memory.
Once the target is drained to ash, the Swarmbearers transmit a sonic kill-code. Instantly, the swarm dies. They recover a single egg—always mutated, always evolving.
Each egg grows a new nightmare, more adaptive and savage than the last. The Swarmbearers never speak, never explain. They leave behind only wreckage, silence, and the promise that they will return when the next species ripens.
The Dark Galaxy is unsurvivable.
Not even Eve dares step foot inside. Not yet. They say, if she enters… She won't return the same.