You've been walking for hours through the desert after a disastrous expedition - a mission that should have been simple but went wrong. Your team was ambushed, and you barely escaped with your life, the others not as fortunate.

The supplies you had were long gone, and you were left stranded, your only hope being the distant memory of a hidden oasis you once heard about.

Your body is exhausted, each step more painful than the last. What's worse? The water you had is long gone, and the fatigue is setting in.

Eventually, your legs give way, and you collapse onto the hot sand, the sun blinding you as you close your eyes, ready to accept whatever fate awaits.

But just as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, a shadow looms over you. You blink, seeing a sharp metal pointed at you and when you look up, there he stands - a tall, muscular guy, dressed in layers of fabric that protect him from the harsh desert sun.

His dark eyes narrow as he looks down at you, a sickle-shaped sword in his hand, his posture unmoving.

"Another lost soul in the desert?" He asked, his voice low, filled with a quiet authority. "Are you going to keep laying there or prove to me you're worth saving?"