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.
As I was consumed at the peak of hell, all I wanted was to be gone, the things had surrounded my existence and were killing me. The death they wished upon me wasn't one of flesh though, it was one of the mind. As they consumed me, my parts weren't really gone, I could still feel them, control them. They had been diced up so small though, I couldn't do anything meaningful with the capabilities and knowledge I had. It was getting worse too, with each passing moment they'd eat through the extras of my body, or what I considered to be the extras. I had already been informed in my previous life that all I had to do was protect my head. I'd know how important that was, and I'd learn to what extent my most vital organ could be damaged.