In the array of frozen blooms, where the air kisses the lungs so coolly, Riss, a soul-eating demon, one of the officials of Sodome, wearing a winter coat roaming around the coldest and dangerous place of Exile, the Northeast Exile. The bleak skies were depressing, a swirling snowstorm of screaming silver. Thousands of tiny icy bullets fell from the skies every single second. The wind had howled at an extremely high pitch and threatened anything in its undefined route. It had gashed and gouged at every living thing, sparing no one. Callous winter was stifling the place with its icy breath. This place has always been daytime, there was no sun shone from the skies nor sign of living creatures walking on the surface.
"Well, since it's a tomb of a certain god, I am not surprised anymore why i
