This is a game played by a god.
A god can control the order of the world at will. To them, it's nothing more than a game.
Hill was the first god of the Vanir. He had immense divine power and extraordinary beauty, and his notorious reputation was matched by his extreme arrogance and tyranny.
At the god's whim, night was banished, and daylight shone eternally across the Nine Realms.
The elves were vassals of the Vanir, and from then on they all became slaves to the gods.
Some called this god the dragon of the Nine Realms.
A hero gathered his companions to slay the god.
Soon, the hero was gone.
Only one companion was left, thrown in prison.
He stayed there for many years.
When people were erecting a tombstone for the heroic band, they suddenly realized that one of them had still not been declared dead.
Hill looked down at the man who knelt before the temple every day. His voice was cool. "Should I finish you off myself, or would you rather become my slave?"
Note: A short story, not very long.
A god who does whatever he wants x a pitiful little thing at first, even more pitiful later
Little cuties, please feel free to share your valuable opinions. Enjoy the story. Love and peace.
Message: I don't know, it was my friend's idea.
