To be honest, Faltershi's strength was probably middling among Abyss Lords.
And he had lived for no short span of time.
He had weathered countless storms.
And witnessed countless miracles.
By all rights, he was someone with no weaknesses whatsoever.
Yet.
In the end, he still died.
There seemed to be many reasons.
But in truth, there were very few.
Ultimately, he had simply died because he was not strong enough.
The strongest would not die.
Those who died.
Were only those who lacked sufficient strength.
Clearly.
Faltershi was one of those who died because he was not strong enough.
Just as he had witnessed countless others perish in the storms of fate throughout his life.
Now, he too had perished in one of the storms Orsaga witnessed over the course of his life, becoming one of countless fallen losers.
As an Abyss Lord.
Though his life could hardly be called unremarkable, he had ultimately failed to escape destruction...
But...
Was Faltershi afraid of death?
As someone who had fought his way up from the bottom, he had some apprehension about destruction, but it was nowhere near outright terror.
Unlike those born with the qualifications to reach the summit smoothly.
To attain the Abyss Lord level, he must have endured countless brushes with death throughout his life.
Enough for them to become commonplace.
Overall, it was much like Orsaga: though he was a scumbag and a slacker, to climb this far from the moment of his birth, he had faced so many brushes with death that even he could not be bothered to count them. Ever since he woke on the banks of the Styx, dangers had followed him like his shadow, like wind, like blood, like glory, like depravity, always at his side.
And so.
Faltershi, accustomed to danger