In the wake of World War III, humanity paid a price too heavy to ignore. The devastation forced every nation into an unprecedented era of peace. Armies were disbanded, weapons silenced, and for the first time in history, the world stood united—not by trust, but by the shared fear of repeating its own destruction.
On New Year’s Eve, humanity gathered to celebrate survival.
But when midnight arrived, the sky did not bloom with fireworks.
It broke.
Across every continent, colossal gates appeared in the heavens—vast, silent, and unnatural. From them descended an endless tide of monsters, creatures that defied logic and weaponry alike. With no standing armies and no preparation, humanity was left defenseless. Cities fell overnight. Entire nations vanished within days.
The world itself turned hostile. Lands once filled with life became death zones, infested with creatures that multiplied without end. Survival became impossible.
Driven to extinction, the last remnants of humanity fled to the only place untouched—the very center of the Pacific Ocean. There, upon fragile fleets and scattered vessels, humanity gathered for its final stand, surrounded by nothing but endless water and fading hope.
And then, when all seemed lost—
A massive magic circle ignited beneath them.
Ancient symbols carved light into the sea, swallowing every survivor in a blinding glow.
From the depths of night, the world suddenly turned as bright as day. No one understood how it happened—only that the sky above them was no longer the one they knew. This was no longer Earth.