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.
I basically crawled my way back, dragging my feet and moving from tree to tree. It was the best I could do when I was being bombarded by the sound of flapping wings, footsteps and everything in-between. With every hit it built up, that, the thing I should have controlled... the thing the hunt showed me I needed to control.
I stumbled my way forward, I had no choice but to keep going, I needed to be somewhere quiet. Time seemed to slow as I walked, I could not only sense and map my environment with my spatial spell, I could feel them with my senses. It was overwhelming, I took breaks, physically, my body seemed to get tiered by the minute.