EFFORIA WORLD AT WAR
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.
One In A handful
It was the one hundredth and forty-first circle, the one hundredth and forty-first attempt, the one hundredth and forty-first second... and the one hundredth and forty-first failure.
It had been a week, a week of none stop attempts... attempts to summon... something... anything would do, yet nothing came. It was the same every time, morning, evening, noon or night.
The warm white dimmed to a cold and distant black and stayed there, then nothing. Hours upon hours, and nothing. It didn't matter how long I left it open, how much mana I used, what time I did it, nothing came out. I was at my wits end, this would be my last attempt, and it had failed.
"I'm done..." I said rustling to my feet from the grass of the field.
"You sure?" She said tilting her head.
"Yeah..." I sighed in defeat. " I've wasted enough of my time, and more importantly, yours." It was silly to continue, so I stopped.