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.
Leaving the plight of my own life in my mind, I stood up, my body back to its peak. Looking at my exposed right hand, I'd clench my fist and flash my hand to ensure it was really attached. It was an eye-opening experience, yet again. Had I been back on earth, there would have been no chance of getting my hand back. The actual one anyway, I would have most likely gotten a prosthetic. As I had the thought, I was interested in seeing the prosthetics of the world. I knew that there were necromancers, and they were under my dominion, but I had to be realistic. It would have been no doubt expensive to acquire their services. The fact that I had seen them work in an A grade institution removed any doubt I had of that fact.