Strange events keep happening on Earth.
The whispers of the old gods drift through the air alongside the revival of the new gods.
Those favored by the gods can rise above everyone else.
The poor, whom the gods look down upon, live worse than dogs.
On the outskirts of a third-tier city, a tiny, frail little girl lay in an endless field of snow. All four limbs were frozen stiff, and her whole body trembled.
The frigid air and her nearly frozen body had left her unable to move, or even speak.
As her consciousness faded, she could only pray in her heart for one last hope.
"God, I... beseech you..."
"Heh, you weak and helpless girl."
"I have heard your prayer," a white-haired man said softly.
"Who... are you?"
