He hasn't had the best life, in fact, some would argue that his life couldn't have been worse, but there's still hope, even for a nihilist. As when an expedition to colonize the moon quickly turns into a disaster, he is swallowed whole by an anomaly and spat out somewhere completely different. Here one can conjure flames with words and summon thunderclouds with a shout, but it's not all fantasia and ecstasy. The world seemed peaceful enough, but as he learns more and more. He realizes everything he sees is a facade, and what's truly underneath is a civilization built on blood and war. In fact, the whole world is in a state of war. Then to top it all off, solidifying that he has truly jumped out of the frying pan and into the furnace, Ragnarök is fast approaching, and there's no certainty that he'll survive, that anyone will survive.
I walked a few feet down the tunnel after the assault, seeing that the door was shut for good, but I soon collapsed. Falling against the wall, I removed my hand from the bag. My body soon begun the repair process, steam erupting from me. As for the nub, it had sealed itself up with the bloody mana. Placing the severed hand near it though, it opened back up. Muscle fibers, red I assumed, would slither their way out and begin connecting the parts. They were so strong that they yanked the limb out of my hand and began sealing the wound. It wasn't soothing like the purple mana, it was excruciating.