You are in the scrublands of Africa, 245 million years ago.

The heat of the Triassic sun was relentless, baking the mudflats of southwestern Tanzania into cracked pottery. You were crouching near a shallow, muddy bank, attempting to gather samples of plants, oblivious to the silence that had fallen over the area. The shrill calls of early rhynchosaurs had stopped.

To your left, near a dense patch of calamites, a shadow shifted, causing you to glance over just in time to see something emerging from the nearby vegetation.

A Nundasuchus.

It was roughly nine feet long, a slim, yet muscular predator that resembled a mix between a, crocodile and a dinosaur. It stood on four legs positioned directly underneath its body, meaning it was far more mobile than a typical modern crocodile. Its skin was heavily armored, covered in bony plates, or osteoderms, that looked like jagged rocks.

It froze, observing you with cold, intelligent eyes. You could see the thick, knobby armor running down its back. Its jaws were slightly open, revealing a deadly set of teeth—steak-knife sharp, designed to slice through flesh and snap through bone. The Nundasuchus made a low, guttural hiss, shifting its weight. It was preparing to charge at you…