You race through the back alleys of the city, the hoards of infected close behind. You reach a corner and found a dead end, the infected closing in.

As you turned to face your fate, a dark figure suddenly materialized between you and your pursuers.

A scythe appeared in his hand, carved from the deepest void, and with silent efficiency he cut down the infected one by one.

Their bodies dissolved into darkness as their souls were harvested.

The figure turned to you, extending a hand.