History isn't just a record of what happened — it's the lens through which we understand why the world became what it is.
How, in these so-called "modern times," we humans have soldiers among us who wield supernatural power. How, hidden beneath cities and governments, an ancient terror still haunts the Earth. How, long ago, we learned the hard way that humanity is not alone at the top of the food chain.
It began over five centuries ago, in the year 1486.
Humanity was still shaping the world — building castles and cultures, discovering continents, waging wars for religion, land, and legacy. We thought ourselves supreme. Invincible.
Then they came.
No warning. No signs. No logic.
Just… appeared — like a nightmare breathed into reality.
The Zunans.
Towering, humanoid monsters. Not demons. Not aliens. Just… beasts — the kind humanity had never imagined. They didn't speak. They didn't negotiate. They hunted.
What they craved wasn't land or wealth.
They wanted hearts. Human hearts.
They tore them from chests, consumed them raw. Nothing else. No flesh. No blood. No reason. Just that singular, grotesque craving.
In three short years, over 90% of the world's population was gone.
But not because the Zunans moved quickly — far from it. They didn't launch a campaign. They didn't try to wipe us out in one swoop.
They were like lions among antelope.
Kill. Feast. Rest. Return.
Day after day. Night after night.
They didn't conquer — they hunted.
And they hunted without fear.
Civilizations collapsed. Languages died with their last speakers. Great empires burned, not by war, but by helpless silence. Survivors scattered into hiding, praying for salvation that would not come.
Some took their own lives, unable to bear being hunted.
Others formed cults, worshipping the Zunans out of desperation.
Many believed the world had already ended.
And then...
the fire came.
No one knows how it started. Some say it was a whisper in the wind. Others say it fell from the sky like golden lightning. But what's known is this:
One day, across every continent, the Zunans burst into flames.
But these weren't ordinary flames.
They burned blue and gold — sacred, almost musical.
They tore through the Zunans like divine judgment.
Water couldn't quench them. Wind couldn't scatter them. And when the flames were done, there was no ash.
No bone. No trace.
Just emptiness — as if the monsters had been erased from existence.
And then…
> He appeared.
A man — or perhaps something more.
He walked through the fire, cloaked in it.
His skin seemed sculpted from living flame, shifting between form and formlessness. Some saw wings. Others, a sword of light. To most, he was unbearable to look at — not from horror, but from sheer presence.
The survivors fell to their knees.
Some called him the Flaming Angel.
Others, the God of Flaming Judgment.
Others simply wept.
He didn't speak for hours. He only stood among the ashes, as if mourning. Then finally, he said:
> "I've delayed your end. I won't return. If you want to survive… prepare yourselves. Hope isn't lost."
He spoke of an island — its location unknown to us even now, hidden under international secrecy agreements.
On that island flowed something ancient and miraculous: Divine Water.
A substance that could awaken supernatural power within a human.
Soldiers from every corner of the globe were chosen.
Secretly. Quietly. They were sent to the island.
They drank.
They changed.
And just like that…
humanity had its first line of defense: the Zunan Fighters.
Superhuman warriors.
Armed with more than weapons — with strength, speed, and energy that defied biology. Trained to protect the living. Born to kill Zunans.
The Flaming Angel vanished as mysteriously as he appeared.
But his warning echoed through time.
Because although the first Zunans were purged by fire, they weren't gone.
They kept appearing. No pattern. No source. No explanation.
They just… returned.
Over and over again.
But this time, humanity fought back.
And even now — in the year 2020 — they still come.
The world has rebuilt. Cities rise. Technology thrives. But the Zunan Fighters still patrol every region. The war never ended. Humanity is no longer helpless — but it is still at war.
And everywhere, one ancient question still haunts the living:
> Will the Zunans ever vanish?
And if they do…
> What kind of world will be left behind?
Some say the answers are buried in fire.
Others believe they're closer than anyone dares to imagine.