Looking up, one could see a great many lights glimmering in the darkness.

They weren’t stars. Hanging from the vast dome above were countless stalactites, glowing faintly from within. In other words, the present location was the floor of a cavern, and the issue was the scale of it all.

The span from wall to distant wall was unfathomable. It had to be nearly twenty miles across in real distance. The height of the ceiling was at least five hundred yards, too. And across the floor spread a great many features: cliffs, valleys, lakes frozen white, and snowy peaks—even fortresses and keeps.

Calling it a cave did it no justice. It was an underground room, a subterranean world.

And in truth, it was just that. This world was what spread beneath the fairy land of Alfheim: a singular field of darkness and ice, prowled by terrifying Deviant Gods. Its name—

Jotunheim.