"I had a story book." It was an unfair question, so Armin offers something in return. It's true that doesn't matter now, and neither does the book. Neither do the walls. None of those things truly matter here. They're all strange memories with sharp edges now. Perhaps in time they might dull to feel like bad dreams, but they're fresh at the moment. Prodding at them is effective, but unkind.

"A history book, I guess. About the world and everything that was out there. My favorite thing was to dream about going to see it on a big adventure."

Here he is, and beyond that, into a world that isn't even a world. A made up world that felt realer than the one Armin had left behind in some ways. It isn't what he'd pictured, but maybe it's more like what Mika used to like to play. The question wasn't as innocent and out of nowehere as it might've seemed, after all. Someone who'd played a game like this before might be able to recall a better strategy.

Armin himself is out of his depth. This is like absolutely nothing he'd ever even dreamed of.