[hider=The Grim Reaper]
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[hider=Disclaimer]
Some parts of the following story are inaccurate. Do not take this information as absolutely true unless confirmed by eyewitness testimony.
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Once upon a time, there was a doctor. He [sic] was the best doctor science could produce; thousands of lives were saved by his hand. Men and women alike crowed about his bedside manner, his charming good looks, and his spotless record. His peers respected his abilities and hailed him as the greatest medical mind of their age. He came to the world full of hope that he could help millions more by establishing his skill and techniques for generations to come.

Then the Voids came, and he was drafted into the war as a medic. As always, he saved every soul [sic] he could. And, if he could reach them, he could always save them, without fail. He became renowned as a miracle-maker, a god among men who could give death the finger and bring mortals back from the brink.

But as the war grew worse, the casualties piled up, and people started to die simply because he couldn't get there in time. He prayed for help, and got an answer: the Immortal Council sent Gwen Valentine, their mightiest Light Mage and the greatest weapon the humans had against the Void. With her help, the humans were able to rally their forces and organize a swift retreat. They'd all come to rely entirely on her powers for their survival, and the doctor swore to keep her alive until everyone could be rescued.

The Voids were not idle. Oh no, they were cunning creatures, and their dark minds hatched a plan to condemn mankind to the dust and take their intolerable Light Mage with them. Their plan worked, and the doctor could only look on in horror as they sank their dark tendrils into the Immortal's pristine flesh and ripped her to shreds. The doctor raced to her side and fought to save her - he knew from experience that he only had seven seconds to stop a mortal injury from taking a life. Seven seconds were all that stood between glorious salvation and miserable death for the entire human race on the planet. The fate of the world rested on his shoulders.

The Immortal took her last breath in his arms.

The whole world collapsed around him. Countless millions died in the following slaughter. Men, women, and children were all torn to bloody ribbons beneath the Void hordes.

And the doctor could only watch.

Hundreds of years after, when the sons and daughters of men began to repopulate the world, they started to tell the tale of the doctor. The story became twisted, and in time, it turned into the legend of the healer who betrayed humanity, a wretched man who murdered humanity's only hope for his own selfish designs. He became a bedtime story, a Grim Reaper who would take your soul if you weren't watchful.

Unbenownst to any, the doctor still lived. And still he could only reap the consequences of his failure. In an effort to atone, he drove himself into the study of magical healing, seeking for the holy grail of Resurrection that could undo his sins and restore all that was lost. He did, in fact, discover a method of resurrection, but it made a mockery of him: it could only restore souls that were within seven seconds of departure.

The same seven seconds that failed him hundreds of years ago.

To this day, he continues his studies, hoping against hope to find his holy grail.