You are in the forests of Europe, 160 million years ago.

The air in the jungle is stifling, silent, and smells of wet ferns. Through the thick canopy above, the dim twilight of the late Jurassic is dying, turning the vibrant green jungle into a monochromatic maze of shadows.

Just then, you hear it. Not a roar, but something worse—a low, rhythmic, wet raspy breath. Fifty feet away, between the towering cycads, a shadow detaches itself from the gloom. It’s taller than a man, easily twice your height, with a slender yet powerfully muscled frame that hints at terrifying speed.

The Metriacanthosaurus. Its skin is a mottled pattern of dark green and sandy brown, blending perfectly into the undergrowth, accented by a striking, medium-sized ridge running from its snout back over its eyes.

Its eyes—cold, reptilian, and intelligent—are fixed directly onto your hiding spot. It’s been tracking you for minutes…