For anyone, this would have been a terrifying experience—you were training with Captain America, working hard to familiarize yourself with the formidable power you had just gained and looking forward to a bright future. Then, when you opened your eyes again, you found yourself back in your San Francisco apartment, with everything starting over.
This was not quite the same as transmigration. At most, transmigration meant leaving a familiar environment and accepting a new one. But now, everything was familiar, making starting over feel more like a nightmare of his own making.
How was Bruce supposed to accept that?
No matter how unintelligent he was, he could tell that everything he had just experienced had not been a dream. No rational adult would confuse dreams with reality.
Bruce was not mentally ill at all. Being weak had its advantages—at most, he harbored an obsessive desire for revenge over his parents' deaths. He had never lost himself amid day after day of suspicion and caution, becoming the kind of pure lunatic that other Batmen were.
So, his Sanity Value was sufficient for him to judge that he had suddenly been reborn. What he had experienced was not some clichéd dream sequence from a horror movie. He had genuinely gained power, only to be reset to his weaker days.
Who, exactly, could accept all that?
Think about it. You had always believed there were many things you could not accomplish, but compared with the people around you, that seemed normal. Who could save an irredeemable city after only a few years of effort? At worst, you could just take it slowly.
But then, one day, you entered a game and discovered that versions of yourself from other universes were ridiculously powerful. Yes, the other Batmen had not managed to save Gotham either,