Let Your God Face Me!

Let Your Gods Face Me!

Such was the age ruled by the gods.

It could be considered a form of domestication. The gods would not ensure that their grace reached every person, but as long as they occasionally displayed divine favor, they could keep people from relying on themselves for a long time.

"Still, this kind of feudal rule will be overthrown sooner or later." Ian walked slowly through the city, complicated emotions rising within him.

Everything here bore traces of divinity, yet it was also so close to human life. The gods were not distant and unreachable. Their will seeped into every corner through priests, chosen ones, oracles, and miracles.

Yet this coexistence was not always harmonious.

In one corner of the market, he saw a woman accused of blaspheming the gods and immediately taken away by soldiers; in the center of the square, a prophet had spoken the words, "Mount Olympus will eventually fall."

He was immediately surrounded and beaten to death by the enraged crowd.

"They fear the unknown," Ian murmured. "They fear losing their faith even more."

This was humanity under the rule of the gods. Even though a prophet had been killed for uttering blasphemous words, no one else in the market seemed to find anything wrong with it.

Someone would come to clean things up.

Yet—

Life went on as usual.

Ian wandered through the market.

"No one thinks there's anything wrong with killing someone for blaspheming the gods."

Ian walked slowly along the stone-paved street. Around him were priests in robes and flower crowns, warriors clad in bronze armor with short swords at their waists, and ascetics with focused expressions murmuring chants under their breath. The air carried the scent of olive oil and spices, accompanied now and then by barking dogs and