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.
Her Grasp
I wanted to rage, to do... something, anything, but I couldn't. I just stood there, looking at the red spot. It was my own fault, my inability to protect it, my face. I was more ashamed than angry, in the end, I just wanted to hide my shame.
"Why's your face so important?" She said her eyes scanning me.
"It just is..." I said looking up in the tree.
I compressed the blood like mana into my hands and on the other hand an eye opened as well. My skin became tight and hard, red, blood red. From the tips of my fingers came familiar claws, too familiar claws. There silver reflected, contrasted by the unreflective red skin that was around my hand or rather, that was my hand.
But... it happened again.