Galahad stood on one foot atop the statue on the eaves, his body as light as a white dove, swaying with the wind, as if waiting for the moment to spread his wings and soar.
The whole of Worton lay beneath him, and this feeling was quite amusing. He had once fought for a place with the same name, and the three letters of Ingris meant everything to a knight's life.
But now?
The people he had sworn to protect brought disaster and destruction, and soon this place would become ruins, and he would build a temple in the rubble, and the true Gods would come to this new world.
In the past, humans enjoyed half of this continent's land, and there were at least dozens of intelligent races in this world capable of building cities and nations on a large scale.
But look at the world now. Apart from some marginal areas or hidden dimensions where other races still exist, humans have occupied all the soil, forests and mines turned into solid human cities, and rivers and seas at their mercy.
