The cart of the history of our world prefers to move along a gentle spiral, and, completing a loop, you get very close to its beginning. The story of the Second World, it seems, simplified its route down to a ring—with no visible exit. Taking up a mage’s staff, don’t expect that no one will take it from you. Or that it won’t be replaced with something else—for example, a pickaxe you met during the first days of your new birth, just as rusty and useless for anything. After all, a ring is a ring: everything that happens to you will repeat again and again—only with slight variations. For example, from a relatively free miner, you’ll turn into an oppressed slave.
In the fire of an unprecedented invasion, entire provinces burn; the strongest clans and the emperor’s guard take up arms trying to stop hordes of inhuman creatures. A war rages that no one expected, no one was preparing for—without even suspecting that the boredom of provincial life could be dispelled so quickly and so brutally.
What will be your role in all of this? Unknown. But one thing is clear—where you must begin: take up the pickaxe and get to work. There will be enough ore here for your lifetime.