It is ancient Babylon—where towers scrape the heavens and man toys with dominion not his own.

The family of Noah, scattered and faithful, stands trembling beneath the shadow of the Great Evil—an intelligence older than Eden, crueler than Cain, and patient as stone. Its designs stretch across generations, threading corruption into bloodlines and altars alike. And the Lord, seeing that mercy would not suffice, chose wrath.
But not His own.
He unleashed His Hunter—the one who walks before the Lord,
a holy terror born not of prophecy, but of divine fury.

He was not summoned.
He was cast—unsure, unbidden, and unprepared.
Hurled into a world he did not know, to face a foe he could not yet comprehend.
No scripture guided him.
No legion followed.
Only the weight of Heaven’s command and the silence of a God who had already decided.

He was not sent to save the righteous.
He was sent to defend man—flawed, frightened, and beloved.
And in that defense, he would become something more than myth.
He would become the reckoning.