It's midnight in the Arctic secret place. It's the size of a bright moon and silver plate. It's high in the air, holy and soft.

this is a poem under the moon, but tonight it's a bit chilly. The wind is blowing through the human heart, like a knife.

"eh? What's going on? How can the wind be so fierce? "

it's amazing that this is a top power of Shinto. A strong wind just passed by, leaving a red mark on the surface of his skin.

"ah..."

screamed all his life. The friars in the early stage of the famous Shinto were cut on their cheeks by a cold...