In the dimensional cage left by the ancient gods, human civilization is like a candle in the wind: the depletion of magic power eats away at the foundation of evolution, war and plague are sacrifices in the game of gods, and the imprint of fear in the genes makes every soul a crop of faith waiting to be harvested. While the ruins of Paris are still seeping the black blood of war, the shadow of the Dungeon of Fools has enveloped the continent - where the truth tampered with by the gods is imprisoned, and the fire of enlightenment also sleeps. The protagonist awakens from the arrogance of knowledge, only to discover that the so-called enlightenment is just another scam weaved by the New God: the white moths of the Moon God are harvesting the last souls, the Death Law of the God of Death is weaving a snare under the Paris underground, and behind the holy light of the God of Mankind are more cruel dimensional shackles. He clutched the blood-stained scroll of destruction, staggering forward between the wails of hungry believers and the hypocritical smiles of the new gods - if enlightenment is destined to sacrifice tens of millions of corpses, is this tragic fate written by the gods still worth spending the rest of his life to open a crack? (Second person, dark, experimental literature? Just watch it for fun).
