In the slums, beside the ruins of a house already collapsed, another crumbling structure was wobbling dangerously amid the storm and flood.
Inside the room, eleven men, women, and children huddled together, watching the water rise outside almost up to the window, their faces clouded with worry.
They were not a family, but neighbors. Just hours before, the adjacent house had fallen in the earthquake, leaving its family nowhere to shelter from the storm. Fortunately, their relationship with these neighbors was decent, so everyone squeezed into this space.
Still, in this hurricane, relentless rain, and continuous flooding, no house in the slums could truly promise safety.
"If this house collapses too, what are we supposed to do?"
The lady of the house listened to the wind roaring outside, the whole house groaning under the rain. She was anxious—for unlike a normal summer typhoon, the house now faced both the storm and the earthquake.
"Don't jinx us! Can't you stop talking like that?"
The man of the house glared at her, but she wasn't fazed, retorting, "I'm just being real—what if it happens? Better to be prepared, get our cloaks and boots—better safe than sorry!"
She sounded righteous, which only made the man angrier—embarrassed that, in front of others, she was undermining his authority as head of the household.
The two were about to argue when the other family tried to mediate, reassuring both sides: the house was sturdy, it wouldn't fall, but also that it was smart to be ready, if just to give both a way out of the argument.
Right at that moment, their sixteen-year-old daughter lifted her head and said firmly, "If the house does collapse—someone will come to save us."
Everyone turned to look at her, confused about the source of her confidence. The two families got moving, making sure even the children had rain cloaks, and just then, the ground gave a sharp jolt!
Rumble—!
Another aftershock struck—the final straw for the house.
Crack—!
The load-bearing wall split wide open; even as everyone staggered from the shaking, faces paled. "The house is coming down—grab your things, get out!"
The group quickly donned their cloaks, and then the lady of the house pushed the door open—at once, the meter-deep flood outside, driven by howling wind and freezing air, surged inside!
Whoosh—!
The water instantly covered the floor and kept rising. They had no time to mourn, but rushed outside into the water—
Boom—!
The house collapsed in an instant!
"My house—!"
The woman shrieked, heartbroken. But in the chaos, she lost her footing and fell, about to be swept away.
The man waded over and grabbed her hand, cursing, "Useless woman! Let's go—get somewhere higher, don't let the rain sweep you off!"
Their house had been built up on purpose against typhoon season, yet even so, the water was a meter deep here—what must it be like on lower ground?
Even adults, not just children—any misstep could mean getting swept away.
Luckily, the tremor didn't last too long. The group regained their footing, and the man scrambled up onto the ruins. "Everyone up—this is higher ground, we won't be washed away here!"
"So where do we go for shelter from the rain now?!" His twelve-year-old son shouted, teeth chattering despite the cloak.
"Don't panic—hold on, don't wander off!"
Just then, the eldest daughter called out again, repeating in a clear, determined voice, "I've heard the call of the goddess—someone will come to rescue us."
Everyone fell quiet; they all knew her faith was the Goddess of Life. But even the slums' poorest had heard the gossip—the Goddess of Life was said to be in decline.
Her church had been crumbling. Even the local monastery in South Harbor District had done little to reverse that reputation.
As for the girl, her faith stemmed from admiration for the nun Theresa.
"Your goddess has already fallen!" the man snapped, frowning. He had no better suggestion, but scolding his daughter gave him some small semblance of authority.
Then, shielding his head with his cloak, he climbed the rubble, eyes straining for any dry or higher place nearby.
But everywhere he looked, there were only ruins, water, and rain. No safe shelter could be seen anywhere.
His heart sank; the others were equally despairing. Only his eldest daughter, as if under a spell, continued to murmur, "Someone will come rescue us…"
Finally, the words triggered his temper. "Enough! Quit your nonsense! No one's coming to rescue us in a storm like this!"
As he barked at her, suddenly, in the distance—a light appeared.
Quickly followed by a young, powerful voice, ringing through rain and darkness: "You there—hold on! We're coming to save you!"
The group froze in astonishment. Surely no one would actually come at a moment like this?
Then, the youngest son bolted upright, cheering, "It's the monastery priest!"
"The Goddess of Life really sent someone to save us!"
For a heartbeat, silence descended on the ruins. The adults, who'd just scolded the girl, were now left in utter awe.
Someone truly had come to help them.
Was it a coincidence? Or had she really heard the voice of the goddess?
Had the Goddess of Life… truly returned?
The story of the legendary goddess, her boundless compassion and love for all races, flooded their thoughts. If she had returned, then perhaps there was hope after all.
The rescuer was none other than Charles. He couldn't make out what this family was calling—the rain and wind were too loud.
All he could do was shine "Light," a cantrip, to guide them, while wading through the flood and yelling, "Hold tight—come with me!"
Shouting as he worked his way to the ruins, Charles pulled out the lifesaving supplies Porter had given him, then grabbed their hands, guiding them through the rain and against the current, back toward the safe room.
Along the way, apart from an occasional "thank you" from the man or woman of the house, everyone was silent.
Which was unsurprising—their bodies were on the edge of hypothermia, leaving no energy for talk.
Fortunately, before anyone collapsed, they made it back to the safe room.
By now, the place was packed.
With the Amazons joining the rescue, efficiency had doubled. Even though they couldn't use spells, they brought numbers and strength. Now, with the new arrivals Charles brought, the safe room held over fifty refugees.
Sophia, Ekta, and Andny were all there, working to warm the soaked refugees, or heal those with injuries or revived ailments.
Andny hurried over to Charles as he entered, her expression worried at the crowded room. "Priest, the space is running out—we're almost full."
Charles took a deep breath, ignoring fatigue and cold. "No matter—we'll build more."
So, in front of all those impoverished folks, he bowed his head, palms together: "Merciful goddess, if you do not wish these innocents to suffer again, then grant us another shelter here!"
He prayed with apparent piety, while internally calling on the system to construct another first-level dormitory.
This one, he placed directly above the existing dorm!
Buzz—
To the refugees, what they saw was that, with Charles's prayer, a milky light began to glow outside. A staircase appeared, and at its top—second and third rooms took shape.
Two first-level dorms, stacked to make a three-story building.
He'd long intended to build units like this, but had previously chosen low-profile single-story structures.
Now, with the danger of flooding, he couldn't be choosy. A goddess' "miracle" was better than letting people drown!
The refugees watched, stunned, as Charles lowered his hands and opened his eyes with a look of compassion, voice deep: "The goddess has answered our prayer. The shelters above us are ready."
"Ekta, set up a stove on the second floor. Everyone, please move some people to the upper levels for rest—let's free up space down here."
He glanced at Sophia. "I leave this in your care."
With that said, he once more plunged back into the rain.
Behind him, Sophia spoke gently to the shocked refugees. "Everyone, please follow me to the second floor."
Some of them rose and followed her upstairs. The area around the stove grew less crowded, the warmth now reaching everyone.
And for some, the ice in their hearts began to thaw as well.
"Hey, did you just see that? That priest… did he really channel the divine power of the Goddess of Life?"
"No way. I heard the Goddess of Life disappeared—it must be some kind of magic, right?"
"Do you know any magic that does that?"
"Uh… well…"
"Is it possible the Goddess of Life never had any trouble, and some people are just smearing her name?"
...
The group discussed in hushed tones, an odd mood thick in the air. Like a fragile paper screen, waiting for someone to pierce it.
After a while, someone from upstairs rushed down. "Everyone, come quick—a girl has received a divine message!"
The group below looked up as several people hurried to witness the miracle themselves.
They all believed in various deities, though most were lackluster in their devotion.
But today, having witnessed real miracles and rescue, and now called to hear a divine voice—it was almost certain some would become true believers.
Sophia and Andny exchanged a glance, uncertain if what they were seeing was real.
After all, both knew full well that Charles was not a true believer in the Goddess of Life.
Yet in that moment, in the monastery's chapel lobby, unseen by any, the statue of the Goddess of Life was shining with a soft radiant glow.
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