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Weakness.

Strength.

Cowardice.

Courage.

Every world holds two types of beings. Those who were meant to survive, the ʀᴇꜱɪʟɪᴇɴᴛ. And those who were were meant to be trampled on, the ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ.

It was very easy to see the difference between these two kinds of souls and very easy to distinguish them at a glance, Arso knew that frightfully well. The strong were those with confidence, those who could easily talk shit because they could back it up.

They were successful and able to protect everyone close to them, while at the same time bring down those who oppose them. Whether through brains or brawn, a strong person will always come out on top, and always win.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ, ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ʜɪɢʜꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ʙᴏʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴀʀꜱᴏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡɪɴ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

He was weak, so weak that among his classmates he was the only one that the goddess of a new, better world with magic and swords refused to summon. However despite that, despite being deemed worthless enough to not even have time wasted on him, he was given a chance, but not by a heavenly being. no no no. . . But by something more. . . ꜱɪɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀ.

"Do you want to go to that world? not to become a hero, but simply to become. . .ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ? ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ?"

That question was easily answered.