It began with a sound—like glass breaking across the heavens.
On the morning of the First Nightfall, millions looked up to see it: a fissure splitting the sky. It stretched like a wound of light, spilling colors that did not belong to this world. Red deeper than blood. Black darker than void. And within that wound, shadows moved.
The first rift had opened.
When the creatures came through, they did not march or fly—they fell. They crashed into cities like meteors of flesh, claw, and hunger. Their roars shook skyscrapers to rubble. Their eyes gleamed with madness.
The armies of man responded in thunder. Tanks rolled. Jets streaked the sky. Artillery screamed. Yet when the smoke cleared, the creatures still stood. Missiles shattered against their hides. Bullets sank in and were spat back out as molten lead. Human weapons had lost their meaning.
Panic spread faster than fire. Cities burned within hours. Nations collapsed within days. Humanity learned a new word whispered in terror across the world: Extinction.
And then, it happened.
In the chaos, something stirred in ordinary men and women. A child screamed, and the fire obeyed her. A soldier raised his hand, and the ground rose up to shield him. A dying nurse called for light… and her body shone like dawn itself.
The first Awakeners were born.
No one knew why. Perhaps the world pitied humanity, or perhaps it chose to fight back through them. Whatever the reason, awakeners became mankind's final shield. They wielded flames, ice, stone, and lightning—powers that could harm the monsters where guns could not.
And with each beast they slew, a crystal core remained—a heart of alien energy that pulsed with power. Awakeners discovered that by absorbing these cores, their strength grew. A system of ranks emerged: F-rank at the bottom, SSS-rank at the peak. A ladder of survival, bought only with blood and risk.
Guilds formed overnight, kingdoms of strength within collapsing nations. Governments clung to them, trading authority for protection. And for a brief moment, mankind felt hope again.
But the rifts did not close.
Every month, more wounds tore across the sky. Every month, stronger horrors spilled forth. And behind the lightless depths of those rifts, something stirred. Something patient. Something that watched… and waited.
The age of mankind had ended.
The age of predators had begun.