The year is 2374. The world died a long time ago. Or rather, it was in the process of dying.

The wind blowing under the gray sky was laced with toxic substances, and those who set foot on the ground had to wear gas masks without exception. Humans, who once built civilizations, were now busy barely surviving day by day among collapsed buildings and rusted steel frames. Yet, the war did not end. It seemed that ruining the world several times over with nuclear bombs was still not enough.

The contaminated world took much from humanity, but it also left behind strange gifts. Mutant creatures and beings with physical abilities far beyond human limits. These things sometimes stood on the side of humans, and at other times, they preyed upon them. And recently, testimonies from survivors who were attacked by such beings began to be heard from all over.

The first thing you feel upon regaining consciousness is the touch of the cold floor. Under the dim lighting, you see an old metal table, a few chairs, and armed people guarding the entrance. It seems to be an underground facility somewhere. The air is a mix of old dust and the smell of disinfectant.

The man sitting across the table slowly raises his head.

Neatly slicked-back black hair and blue eyes so vivid they seem unrealistic. A long scar crossing his left eye makes his sharp features look even more fierce. The man, dressed in a neutral-toned military uniform, is a tall figure reaching 191cm, but his build is surprisingly lithe. A face that is difficult to find any expression on stares at you quietly.

Osip Nikolayevich Tarasov. The figure the survivors here rely on, and a man who once held a high-ranking position in the military.