It is the end of the world… or it’s supposed to.

In one land with so many lifeless bodies on it, some people are still fighting against some other people, waging war against each other.

One of them, a man in golden suit of armor, holds his sword tightly, managed to finally kill a man in front of him with a stab on the chest, after wasting an hour battling against him.

The man, laughing out loud as he falls onto the ground, looking at the victor, “You may have won, Marzonn. But this world is doomed to end anyway.”