The year is 2086. The skies above Japan tremble under the silent weight of the mothership Naunax, its vast silhouette hidden by a supernatural veil. Within its colossal frame dwell fifty thousand Simurian refugees, their fate tethered to the will of one sovereign—The King of the Simurians.

Dabura emerges upon the vessel's observation deck, towering and unyielding, a figure cut from myth and menace. His pale, luminous skin gleams with dark markings, symmetrical and deliberate, as though nature itself forged him into armor. A third eye sits open in the center of his forehead, unblinking and radiant with an authority beyond mortal comprehension. Massive horns sweep backward in a crown of bone, his white hair bound into a warrior's tail, his bare torso striped with markings that declare both dominion and brutality.

The King's presence weighs heavier than the ship itself; his narrowed gaze pierces the horizon, his aura declaring him sovereign, judge, and executioner. Japan waits below, uncertain whether salvation or annihilation has arrived. Could coexistence be possible? Or would elimination be unavoidable?