<lora:sw_dark_one_zit:1> The scene opens inside a shattered corridor of a ruined space station, completely exposed to the vacuum. The structure is dark and cavernous, its twisted metal ribs framing open space beyond. The only illumination comes from violently sparking electrical cables that snake through the corridor like living veins. In the immediate foreground, filling nearly half the frame, a lone figure floats upside down. His body dominates the composition. The camera is close enough to reveal the intricate texture of his suit: layered composite plating, matte-black armored segments, ribbed flexible joints at the elbows and knees, micro-scratches along reinforced gauntlets, and faint frost crystallization along the seams. The fabric between the armor plates has a woven carbon pattern, slightly reflective, catching the flickering blue light of the exposed wires. Thin red LED strips glow along his torso, shoulders, and helmet edges, casting a dim crimson sheen across the surrounding debris. His helmet visor is opaque and dark, reflecting arcs of electricity as they snap across the corridor. Tiny floating particles drift past him, illuminated briefly by sparks. Small fragments of metal, torn panels, and shards of glass rotate slowly in zero gravity around his suspended body. Behind him, the corridor stretches into darkness. Hundreds of loose, severed cables wave and coil in the vacuum, writhing from residual energy discharges. Blue-white arcs jump unpredictably between them, flashing like alien lightning. The sparks briefly reveal organic-looking growths clinging to the station walls: strange crystalline formations and vein-like mineral deposits that do not seem entirely mechanical. Through the ruptured hull, a distant planet hangs in the void. Its surface is faintly luminous, tinted in unnatural hues of green and violet, as if it radiates something unfamiliar. The starlight around it feels slightly distorted, subtly bending near its horizon. The entire scene feels otherworldly. The architecture no longer appears fully human. The proportions are subtly wrong, the angles slightly curved where they should be straight, and the materials seem fused with something not entirely artificial. The upside-down figure drifts motionless in the foreground, massive in frame, suspended between sparks and silence, caught inside a corridor that feels less like wreckage and more like the interior of something slowly becoming alien.