Iceland, Reykjavik.
Since the Norse Gods had appeared in the Living World, Iceland's standing had soared. It had gone from a bankrupt Northern European backwater to a world power, and Reykjavik had grown enormously along with it.
Although Iceland's standing had slipped after Ragnarok, Odin's prophecy and the opportunity to develop the New Continent had kept the city from declining. Instead, it had grown more vibrant than ever.
That lasted until Ubbo-Sathla appeared. Countries had been forced to halt development of the New Continent, the God of the Forest Vidar had apparently fallen, and the God of Revenge Vali had been taken by the Fallen God. Iceland's standing had plummeted, and Reykjavik had suffered a devastating blow with it.
The bustling port had fallen quiet, and the once-crowded city had grown lifeless. Multinational corporations had pulled out of Reykjavik one after another, sending a wave of unemployment through the city. Without outside intervention, the city that had only just begun to prosper would soon be back where it started.
Beyond the harbor, a warship cut across the blue sea toward the New Continent—a place many nations had invested heavily in, only to abandon.
"We're about to join forces against Ubbo-Sathla and his believers," Cornelius said from the warship's deck. Clad in a Gold Cloth that concealed his face, he cast a discreet glance around. "Before that, I think we should introduce ourselves and get to know one another. It'll help us work together in the operation ahead."
He wanted to gauge the strength of the Supernaturals from each country.
After the gods descended, the rules of the world had changed. Military and economic power no longer determined political standing. Gods and Supernaturals did.
But gods rarely descended unless a major disaster struck, so a country's political standing depended on the