So, I Transmigrated Into The Heavenly Realm

40. Bad Memories Part 2

40

Huddled in every room of the temple dedicated to Dythos God of Wheat were humans and the things they had managed to flee their homes with. Someone had herded their small flock of goats up the mountain to seek shelter. Confused bleating from the goats was interrupted by crying children, scared by their own sudden flight from home and the sounds coming from outside. Here and there groups of grandmother's had formed, all huddled together knitting as if there wasn't a war between the immortal powers happening in the valley below.

As if this wasn't the end of the world.

From their gossiping you would have thought that they were in a cafe on a pleasant Tuesday. So they sat where they pleased and knit things so little Timmy wouldn't be cold and refused to be moved to safer rooms with the unarmed women, children, sick and infirm.

"I'm ninety one!"

"I've seen worse. Do you remember the storm of fifty seven?"

"You'll need me to sew you up if anything happens."

"I'll tell you something for free. Do you think I'm scared of some Demon who thinks he's better than Our Dythos? That lad's got another thing coming if I have anything to say about it."

"I'll give him a clatter round the ears. I tell you that right here right now."

Some of the choice responses to anyone even daring to enquire if they would like to go sit somewhere safer.

Aftershocks from the many magical attacks being slung rocked the temple as dust fell from ceilings, lights swung and mosaic tiles fell. People were scared.

An old man wizened with age sporting a beard long enough to stay on the floor stood up from his seat near the fire to try and calm the gathered masses. In his hands a staff of crab-apple wood topped by a purple crystal, both walking aid and tool of his trade. He was wearing the simple brown clothing that marked him as one of the Temple's assistants and that was enough for most of the people around the temple fire to fall silent.

Dythos himself was floating above the temple fire, doing his damn best to keep these people safe. Human conversations taking place below him were something he was only barely aware of. Every molecule of his attention and power was being spent strengthening the ward he was using to defend the temple and its inhabitants.

There wasn't the luxury of being able to worry about other things or other people.

Elgaldir was out there somewhere fighting for his life and Dythos couldn't allow even that to distract him. His temple hadn't been built to withstand a battle like this. It had been built as a good place to store grain.

A fancy grain silo.

"The gods are mighty though, they have little thought or care for us mere mortals!" A young man shouted his head was still poking out of the main door of the temple gazing out into the horror beyond. Half in amazement at the destruction, half in terror he couldn't look away even as it drew closer to them.

A woman that turned out to be his mother, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him back into the safety of the temple. She hit him several times on his back and shoulders with one of her shoes scolding him for putting his life at risk so stupidly.

"Do you want your head blown off?"

"Dythos loves us! He is here with us even as his own family is at risk in this battle. He protects us as he protects the harvest. As he brings love to us, so as he shares his love to us, so do we return our love to him." The voice of the elderly temple assistant, strong in his conviction, led them in prayer.