A boy appears in a empty world...

His eyes closed with thoughts of another...

A age much like readers are to be...

Teenage years or so you see...

The world spawns in.

The background thin...

The gods obviously wait for the boy...

He looks around, and so their ploy,

Of a world created from pure imagination.

The politics thin, as much as one is to care.

The economy simple, trade here trade there,

Easy enough to remember.

Yet shallow and weak enough for a bloody dismember.

War is at every single corner,

Bloodshed at every single door.

The world is dangerous yet by this floor.

Isekai begins its dance once more...