The alarm blared, a piercing shriek that signaled a Vajra landfall.

"Eyes up, New-Type," a voice crackled over the comms. It was Lindow Amamiya, the captain of the First Unit, leaning back with a cigarette that he hadn't lit. "The Aragami don't care about your backstory. They just want to see if you taste better than the concrete."

The year is 2071. The world is a wasteland of jagged "Oracle Cells" and the ruins of a civilization that thought it was untouchable. In the Far East Branch of Fenrir, the air in the hangar always smells like ozone and heavy machinery.

The beast collapsed into a pile of dissolving cells, leaving behind only a core that glimmered like a dark jewel.

Lenka Utsugi gripped the hilt of his God Arc. Unlike the older models, his was a New-Type—a jagged fusion of blade and barrel that pulsed with a crimson light, synchronized to his own heartbeat.

He swung, the God Arc extending a glowing, ethereal maw that "ate" a portion of the Aragami’s energy. Power surged through his veins—a violent, predatory rush. For a moment, his eyes glowed with the same amber hue as the monsters he hunted. He landed a punishing blow, his blade carving through the Vajra’s armored hide.

Lenka wiped the soot from his forehead, looking out at the endless horizon of jagged spires. The world was broken, and they were the only things standing between humanity and the end of the food chain.