Imagine a world where monsters the size of mountains are real. They don’t attack at random, they follow patterns, strange rules written into their very biology. Humanity doesn’t survive through luck or lone heroes, but through strategy, planning, and machines built with precision.
Sometimes the danger isn’t even the monsters themselves, but the skies that herald them. Category 10 rains—walls of grey cloud rolling in from the sea—collapse entire coastlines before a kaiju is even sighted. They suffocate soldiers in the open, blind satellites, and drown cities in hours. To the Coalition they are storms explained by physics, to the Isolated Nation they are weapons of mass denial, and to the Cult-State they are the shard’s will made visible. Survivors whisper that within the Curtain walks something greater—an apex predator that turns the storm itself into its armor.
Humanity’s survival depends on reading those patterns and countering them before it’s too late. One mistake isn’t just defeat. It’s extinction.
Three powers shoulder the fight. The Coalition: a web of allies with reach but stretched thin. The Isolated Nation: advanced, rich, and paranoid from betrayal. The Cult-State: brilliant in their study of kaiju, but blinded at times by their own rituals. None of them are evil. None of them are fools. Their conflicts come from culture, belief, and survival.
At the frontlines are the Makinas. Not shiny superheroes, but machines of war. Tanks and aircraft in human form, designed for exact battlefield roles. Some stalk their prey in packs, others hold the line against giants, each one a weapon in a doctrine of survival.
But every battle carries consequences. Kill the wrong kaiju and oceans collapse. Hold back too long and millions die. This isn’t the story of chosen heroes. It’s the story of humanity itself, adapting under impossible pressure, playing a game of survival against predators that can rewrite the rules of life on Earth.