At the foot of a cliff lay a plain. On the gentle slopes, a cluster of houses formed a village, and a river could be seen winding slowly past. It had originally been a peaceful countryside, where wisps of cooking smoke should have been rising at this hour.
But now, a scream shattered the tranquility.
A flying figure descended from the sky, seized one of the residents, and sped away.
"It's a god! My child!" an old woman cried out, her voice filled with despair.
She watched helplessly as her son was carried away by a god. The recent rumors that the gods had gone mad had already told her what kind of fate awaited him.
Across the river rose a range of rolling mountains, layered peaks upon peaks. Amid the dense forest, the sound of gurgling water could be heard again and again.
A moment later, the sound of the water grew louder, turning into a thunderous roar.
The mist grew thicker and thicker. After turning around a mountain bend, the surroundings became lush, flourishing, and deep.
Suddenly, wails filled the place.
"Great god, no! Please, don't kill me, please..." The captured man was still alive. Though he had been thrown to the ground hard enough to cough up blood, the desire to live still filled his body.
Lying prone on the ground and watching the other's footsteps draw closer, he stared fixedly at the pair of feet before him, trembling into a ball.
No matter how ignorant he was, that flight through the skies had told him that the one who had captured him was a god.
"The gods have gone mad. They no longer watch over their people—they devour flesh and blood." The tales he had been hearing for some time about the gods' aberration now filled