History isn't just a record of events.
It's the lens through which we understand how the world became what it is.
How, even in this so-called modern age, soldiers walk among us with supernatural power.
How ancient horrors still lurk beneath the surface of governments, cities, and myths.
And how, long ago, humanity learned a brutal truth:
We are not alone — and never were.
It began in the year 1486.
Humanity was still shaping the world — building kingdoms, forging religions, discovering lands, and waging wars to leave a legacy.
We believed ourselves the apex species. Supreme.
Invincible.
Then… they came.
No signs. No warnings. No logic.
They simply appeared — as if nightmares had taken shape from thin air.
The monsters.
Towering, humanoid abominations — nothing like man, and yet shaped cruelly in our image.
Demons? Aliens? Beasts? No one knew.
They didn't speak. They didn't invade.
They hunted.
And what they wanted…
Wasn't territory.
Wasn't power.
Wasn't conquest.
They wanted hearts.
Human hearts.
Torn from chests. Consumed raw.
Nothing else — no flesh, no bone, no blood.
Only that one organ, as if it held the meaning of life itself.
In just three years, 90% of humanity was erased.
Not because the Zunans — as they would later be called — moved fast.
No. They moved with calm cruelty.
Kill. Feast. Rest. Repeat.
They weren't an army.
They were predators.
And we were their prey.
Civilizations collapsed.
Languages died with their last speakers.
The silence was worse than the death — a world gone quiet, waiting to be consumed.
The survivors… broke.
Some ended their lives, unwilling to be hunted.
Some turned to madness — forming cults, worshipping the Zunans as divine executioners.
But many… desperately sought mercy.
> They sacrificed their livestock.
Then their gold.
Then their daughters and sons.
Children were offered at stone altars. Babies left in caves. Entire villages gave up their young to the winds — to any god that might hear them.
Prayers bled into screams. Rituals turned to slaughter.
And still, the Zunans came.
But then — the fire arrived.
No one knows how it began.
Some say it was a whisper that lit the air.
Others say it fell from the sky like golden lightning.
But this is certain:
Across every continent, the monsters erupted into flames.
Not ordinary fire —
Blue and gold, sacred, dancing like light made of sound.
It burned through the creatures effortlessly.
Water couldn't stop it. Wind couldn't touch it.
And when it was done?
There was nothing left.
No ash. No bones.
Just absence — like they'd been erased from existence.
And then…
> He appeared.
A figure walked through the flames — not burned, but born from them.
His form was wrapped in living fire, shifting between man and something more.
Some saw wings.
Some, a flaming blade.
Most couldn't look at him at all — not from fear, but from sheer divinity.
They called him many things:
> The Flaming Angel.
The God of Flaming Judgment.
Or simply… Salvation.
He stood among the ruins, silent for hours.
Then, he spoke:
> "I've delayed your end. I will not return. If you wish to survive… prepare yourselves. Hope isn't lost."
He gave the monsters a name: Zunans.
And spoke of an island.
A place where something ancient flowed — a substance known only in whispers:
Divine Water.
Water that could awaken dormant power in humans.
Water that could turn men into weapons.
Secretly, the world's leaders chose candidates — soldiers, survivors, outcasts.
They were sent to the island.
They drank.
They changed.
These chosen became the first line of defense:
> The Zunan Fighters.
Superhuman warriors.
Gifted with strength, speed, and energy that defied nature.
Not born — but made to kill Zunans.
But here's where the world divides.
Because to this day, no one is allowed near that island.
There are no photographs.
No maps.
No coordinates.
Even satellites can't detect it.
It's like it doesn't exist.
And maybe… it never did.
Many believe the story of the island is a ruse — carefully crafted to pacify the public.
A myth to explain the emergence of powered soldiers.
A convenient lie wrapped in divine legend.
And what's more terrifying: no one can prove otherwise.
But that wasn't the Flaming Angel's only gift.
Before he vanished, he did the impossible:
> He created a new universe.
A sealed realm. A mirror reality.
A dimension designed to trap the Zunans before they could reach Earth.
Now, every time a Zunan tries to manifest, it is pulled into this realm — a kind of purgatory.
There, the Zunan Fighters go to meet it.
But this prison is temporary.
Each Zunan is held for exactly 10 hours.
If it survives beyond that, it crosses into Earth.
And if it does…
> It begins to hunt.
Thanks to this otherworldly buffer, the battles no longer destroy cities.
Earth has rebuilt.
Technology thrives again.
Life continues.
But the war... never ended.
And even now, in the year 2020, the Zunan Fighters carry out their duty in secret.
Fighting in a world few have seen.
Protecting a world that no longer remembers why it was once on the brink of extinction.
Yet one question still echoes — in whispers, in nightmares, in sacred texts:
> Will the Zunans ever vanish?
And if they do...
What kind of world will they leave behind?
Some believe the answer lies buried in fire.
Others believe it's closer than we dare imagine.