Purple light balls rained down all over the world, and humans frantically scrambled for fantasy equipment.
I grabbed a rusty DNF giant sword, but my right hand was cursed into a ghost hand.
The gangster picked up the shining golden key to the king's wealth, shot the white-collar worker in the street and took away the Ultraman Summoner.
The old lady was trampled while holding the fairy beans, and the students used Kamen Rider belts to collapse the teaching building.
When a huge figure appeared in the halo of the sky, I dragged the giant sword towards the hilt in the pool of blood - the ghost hand suddenly moved on its own.
Why does this world become like this...?
Because a certain supreme being had a dream during his nap...
