Tremor

It didn't come from the ground.

It crawled beneath it.

Deep under the crust, a colossal beast-ancient, starved, buried in silence for centuries-finally woke. Its heartbeat alone cracked bedrock. Its roar rolled through cities like thunder sharpened into a blade.

Tremor is that awakening: Durability channels the pulse of a monster forcing its way to the surface, each drop a seismic punch, each break a shuddering warning. Buildings buckle. Streets split open. The world shakes not from nature-

but from the creature rising to claim it.

When Tremor hits, you don't run.

You pray the monster passes you by.