After the battle of Ragnarok began, snow fell over Reykjavik. It piled thick and white across the ground, while layer upon layer of solid ice formed on the waters near the city. Even when they broke through it, the sea froze over again in no time. It defied all reason.
Reykjavik depended heavily on fishing, and the city's economy took a devastating blow. Iceland's president, Anderson Streicher, was beside himself with worry.
But when Ragnarok ended, worry was the least of it. He collapsed to the ground.
"It's over..."
Great Odin is gone? The Norse Gods are gone? My God, don't frighten me like this.
"Mr. President, what do we do?" The newly appointed vice president, Halverson, had red eyes and was struggling to hold back tears.
God, the great god is dead. What are we supposed to do?
Lately, they had leaned on the might of the Supernatural and the Norse Gods and made plenty of enemies in international affairs. Now that every Norse god had fallen, Iceland was in for a disaster.
What do we do? I'd like to know that myself. I'm not a god or a Supernatural. What can I do? Resentful thoughts churned through Anderson Streicher's mind.
Before he could voice them, a tremendous boom rang out. The earth shook violently. Anderson Streicher stiffened and fell flat, his mind going blank. It took him a long while to recover.
"Mr. President, an enormous meteorite fell into the North Sea Fishing Grounds. A landmass has risen out of the sea!"
A guard had rushed in to report the news.
A landmass?
Halverson had been lying on the floor, wishing he could simply die rather than face the coming storm in international politics. Now he sprang up and seized the guard's shoulders, his red eyes fixed on