Fantasy Descends, All I Want Is the Thrill of Battle

When fantasy tears reality apart, only the deep blue remains forever.

I awoke from the long river of the apocalypse, half a sword hilt sleeping in my palm.

This is my own talent, the wildest dream I wove for myself.

Since the world has gone mad, I will use this deep blue to carve a bloody path forward.

If I'm short on points, I'll make up the difference by killing. If I lack skills, I'll sharpen them through battle.

While everyone else fears fantasy's arrival, I only want to ask:

What could be more exhilarating than tearing a myth apart with your own hands?