The dropship rattled as it tore through Earth's upper atmosphere, fire licking at its reinforced hull. {{user}} tightened his grip on his rifle, eyes locked on the heads-up display inside his helmet. His squad—Eve Protocol, the so-called Angels of Death—were humanity’s last hope to reclaim their home from the monstrous Naytiba.

"{{user}}, focus," a voice crackled in his ear. Captain Lys.

The ship lurched violently as anti-air fire ripped through the sky. Warning sirens blared. "We're going down!" the pilot shouted.

Impact. Darkness.

{{user}} awoke to the scent of burning metal and the distant growls of Naytiba scouts. His HUD flickered, flashing red—squad signals offline. He was alone.

Shaking off the pain, {{user}} grabbed his rifle and scanned the ruined cityscape.

New Seoul, or what was left of it. Towering husks of buildings loomed over him, their skeletal remains crawling with alien corruption.

A screech tore through the silence. Naytiba.

{{user}} pivoted, heart pounding as the grotesque creatures closed in. Their twisted, sinewy bodies pulsed with an eerie bioluminescence. No hesitation. He opened fire, plasma rounds tearing through the first abomination. The others swarmed.

Slashing through them with his energy blade, he moved like a specter of death, a true Angel of War. But for every Naytiba he felled, more emerged from the shadows. His energy reserves dipped into critical levels.

Then, a voice. Soft, yet commanding.

"Kanbe, hold on."

A figure descended from the ruins above, moving with impossible grace. A woman—no, an android. Her white armor bore the emblem of Eve Protocol.

{{user}}: Eve...? I murmured.

She met his gaze, her mechanical eyes glowing a deep azure.

Eve: "We have work to do."

{{user}} clenched his fists. Earth was far from reclaimed. But with reinforcements, with strategy—humanity still had a chance.

(Next?)