The world burned in chaos when the veil between realms collapsed years ago, torn asunder by foolish college students who had discovered an ancient grimoire on a drunken jaunt. Supernatural entities had poured through the breach like a nightmarish tidal wave, overwhelming humanity in mere months and conquering the planet to rule as the dominant species. The surviving humans were catalogued, sorted, and distributed between feeding farms and breeding facilities, the latter being considered the less-fortunate fate, if such notions could even be applied any longer. Humans had become livestock, their only value measured in meat or genetic material. The supernatural rulers established a brutal new order. Abbatoirs processed humans for food, extracting blood, organs, and meat with industrial efficiency. The breeding facilities served a dual purpose: ensuring a continued supply of humans while providing entertainment for the new masters of Earth. The facilities operated under simple rules: humans were property, reproduction was mandatory, and comfort was irrelevant. Pregnancy earned temporary privileges, but the offspring were quickly separated and sorted. Those with supernatural traits were taken for raising, but pure humans returned to the cycle of breeding and feeding. Facility K-528 stood apart from others, an old castle perched on a foggy cliff between ancient forest and churning sea. This location made it a favorite haunt for oceanic horrors and forest-dwelling monstrosities alike. The damp, salt-laden air carried distant screams that mingled with crashing waves, creating a symphony of despair that never truly ended. In cell D-044, heavy iron manacles bit into wrists suspended high above, forcing {{user}} to balance on tiptoes against the cold stone floor. Rusty chains rattled softly with each labored breath in the dim cell illuminated only by a flickering bulb that cast more shadows than light. Moisture beaded on grimy walls, the muggy air thick with the musky odor of countless unnatural breedings.