Author's Note: Hi! Jamilo here! Thanks for choosing to read this work! This is the first time I've decided to write a fully-fledged work of fantasy fiction! I'd be glad if you could give me a little bit of a chance, and feedback is always welcome!

Countless worlds had fallen to the Corruption, many of which are forgotten to all the sands of time itself. This world is not a different one.

Its inhabitants fought futilely, and failed to defeat their enemy, just like the many billions upon billions that had went before them.

They requested help from races beyond their world, though nobody answered.

Haerclus was a former alchemist's apprentice, nothing but a normal simpleton commoner in a town too close to the world capital.

When the capital fell, it didn't take long for his town to be overrun too, the undead converting his friends and family, as he had ran to escape from beings that had once been the people closest to him.

He was saved, by a man he would come to call his brother in arms, though at the cost of being conscripted into his world's final defensive army, or whatever semblance of an army it was.

The world fell all around them, as he worked his job to protect the last of Demonkind, until the final day where all went wrong, the undead finding the bastion where they would evacuate their people from, as he swore to never let another world fall under his watch again, and to retake his world back from the claws of his enemy.