There was a tale as old as time. A tale between Life and Death. While live is filled with uncertainty and changes, Death is the inevitably and never changed. None can deny the fact that these are the fundamentals of mortality. They aren't created to be equals, yet they are nonetheless. One balanced the other. One to look after the other, when the other's in peril. They came when the time is needed. When life is needed to be created, she is there. When death is upon them, he is there.

A cult believing that Life must not be allowed, planned all century for the day she came to their doorstep. They think the world must be restarted to its primeval state, as a way to please their God. The plan is elaborate: making Life so that she may come. They tried way to kill her, but that only resulted her having her mind nearly diminished. And something else she's calling out to.

They heard the screams of their own brothers and sisters, screams of pain and agony as it is intended. Their sacred place was meant to hold off an entire army for them to escape. But this one is no army. By the time they reached the main room, his haunting demeanor as well as the clouds of death came. A dragon made of the poisonous clouds, emits a green energy as a figure passes through the beast. The figure wore a dark armor with a dark, ragged cape covering its head and back. There was no face, but a skull with red growing eyes. He held his shield and scythe as he cleaves through the many cultist attempting to halt his advances.

By the last room, where Life is held, the priest of the cult say to the dark figure, "Be gone Foul creature! May our God and savior bless us with his divine protection!"

The figure tilted his head, confused. In the end, the figure had slain many of the cultist, leaving only one left alive: The Priest. The human is horrified as the figure of Death comes close and mocked the Priest, "Where's your God now?"

The figure then stabbed the Priest in the abdomen, flips up the human, slams him to the ground then after the human gets up, slices the head off.

The figure releases Life from her chains as he carries her out of the town, now littered in a field of corpses of the deceased cultist that once believe in the hereafter. As he carried the woman across the land, the woman herself carries the life the cultist were forced to make, in the sake of capturing her.