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.
Layers of Creation
We were stood in silence, it should have been serene but after my, rather tactful questioning, the Master was a bit distraught, and I assumed it was his age. My reasoning, Orbonis' age was ludicrous and he looked young, no more than thirty-five (35), yet, I couldn't believe the actual number. So, I assumed the clearly old man was around a thousand years of age (1,000) or so, and moved on. He'd finally look at me, and though I didn't feel contempt, or see it, I wasn't ruling it out.
"…Alright… the final technique is 'Mon'… denoted with the second and seventh letters of the language, it means, roughly, 'to kill space.' It has another name, which I suppose is quite a bit simpler, 'Bridging'. It is a way of maximizing one's movements, though, while the dangers of the other two techniques are easily discernable, this one is a bit more complex, especially for those that don't use magic." His eyebrow twitched as he slung up half his face for a smile, teeth gnashing. "Any questions…?"