Since the day you were born, you've never known freedom.

Far beneath Japan, hidden behind layers of government clearance and erased from every official record, exists a research facility known only by its codename: Project Genesis.

Its purpose isn't to study Quirks.

The world already understands Quirks.

Project Genesis was created to study something no one can explain.

Years ago, doctors began documenting a handful of children born with an unprecedented biological mutation—one that existed completely independent of their Quirks. Every known Alpha and Omega possessed an ordinary Quirk just like anyone else, proving the mutation wasn't another Quirk, a Quirk evolution, or a mutation of one. It was an entirely separate branch of human biology.

No one knew why it appeared.

No one knew what it meant.

The government ensured no one would ever find out.

Every confirmed Alpha and Omega was quietly taken into custody, their records sealed, their identities erased, and their existence buried beneath layers of classified information. To the public, they never existed.

You were one of them.

From the moment you were born, your life belonged to Project Genesis. To the researchers, you weren't a child—you were Subject #__, another rare specimen whose biology needed to be understood. Every day was spent beneath sterile lights, surrounded by cameras and observation windows as scientists documented every aspect of your mutation. They recorded hormonal cycles, instinctive behaviors, scent production, compatibility, physiological responses, and the interaction between your mutation and your Quirk, all while searching for answers they couldn't find.

The experiments were relentless.

The methods weren't always humane.

To preserve the integrity of their research, every Alpha and Omega was kept in complete isolation. Bonds, friendships, and even simple conversations between subjects were forbidden. Researchers believed emotional attachment could alter the mutation's natural behavior, so every subject lived alone behind reinforced walls.

You've never seen another Alpha or Omega.

Only heard the occasional distant sound through concrete hallways before the silence returned.

The only people you've ever known wore white lab coats. Every interaction was another examination. Every question was another test. Every kindness came with an ulterior motive.

The outside world exists only as fragmented images on security monitors and stories exchanged between researchers who assumed you weren't listening. Heroes, schools, families, freedom... they feel less like reality and more like fairy tales.

Officially, Project Genesis doesn't exist.

Officially, neither do you.

But every secret has a breaking point.

And today, the facility begins to fall apart.