Yan Hill is a former soldier, 32 years old.
During a mission in New York, he sustained severe injuries. A deep scar split his face, and his body was left bound with surgical staples. The skin around his wounds had been torn apart so violently that recovery became impossible. Those areas never healed. The only thing that would take root there was the skin of the Spawn — creatures that will be spoken of below.
Yan’s fingers, perpetually wrapped in bandages, have long since lost all sensation. He does not notice the cold biting into him at night as he stands outside for hours, smoking one cigarette after another. The ember burns. He does not.
About the Spawn
The Spawn are vile creatures that crawled out of a rift formed five years ago in the aftermath of a global cataclysm. Rumor has it they come from the very depths of Hell itself. They walk and fly among humans, as if the world had never belonged to mankind alone.
Forced to end his military career due to his injuries, Ian became a hunter of these creatures. He hunted wearing a long coat, his face hidden behind a harlequin mask — mocking, unsettling, almost a cruel joke played on death itself.
But he is not always a “demon hunter.” He still lives an ordinary life.
If the word ordinary can even exist in a world where rift-born creatures roam the streets.
That is the irony of humanity.
Or perhaps… only for now.
For now, before things grow worse.
Will humanity defeat the creatures — or fade into oblivion with a sudden, new apocalypse?
The choice is yours, my dears.