In front of an altar, a large crowd of people, shivering in the cold gathered. Several priests soothed them, promising them safety if they believed in 'the lord'.

Many people smiled wryly. Which lord had aided them when famines came? Which lord helped them when their young froze to death? Which lord would allow for these raiders from the richer kingdoms of the south to come like this?

However, these people had nothing to their name but religion and their friends. They had no knowledge, only a very select few were even able to read, and even fewer able to write. 

Nonetheless, these people were not idiots. Idiots cannot survive in the north, nobody can unless they are born and raised there.

Temperatures lower than -50-degree Celsius were considered normal. Beast hordes wishing to tear apart their bodies in a madness created by hunger were even more normal.

No kingdoms were built here. No mighty heroes were born, for they all died young. No saviors were raised, for angels cannot be born in hell. And yet, in this small, doomed village, religion had always been part of their daily lives for as long as they can remember.

It might have been because this village was slightly better off than most, and they could afford to raise priests or waste 10 minutes in the morning for a small prayer. These small acts eventually became norms, norms that allowed these villagers to never truly lose hope, to always keep that small idea in their minds that someone cares for them, might save them.

For this reason, after their defenses had been torn down one by one, their hunters killed by the mighty steel and technology of the invaders, everybody gathered here, around this altar. Be it woman, child, men, elderly, disabled, all of them looked at the priests as they prayed, following the High Priest's lead.

The High Priest was a man of great talent. He had been born in this village over 50 years ago and had left when he turned 20. Everybody thought him dead, but when he came back, everybody rejoiced.

He had done a trip to the south. There, he learned of mighty machines capable of firing metal balls with mighty destructive force. He learned of the sword, of the spear, of tactics, of literature, and of religion.

The primitive ideas of this village were soon abandoned, and all of the ideas the high priest brought back were soon adopted. Farming techniques were implemented, swords were forged, albeit not many were successful. 

And yet, now that these people faced true men of the south, they had no chance. The high priest had known this, hence, he had sent only a few hunters to stall for time.

Originally, he had wanted to tell his people to run, to escape, but he knew that they would die anyways afterward. Hence, in a desperate gamble, he decided to gather them all around the altar, for one, final ritual to their god.

Now, everybody was looking at him with sad gazes. As he laid down on a large stone platform, all of the other priests surrounded him.

Some people even began to cry. To them, the high priest was not just the high priest. He was their ruler, their leader, their friend, their companion. Now, every single person knelt down and began to pray. To pray that the high priest's self-sacrifice would not be in vain.

As the high priest looked at the surrounding acolytes, he smiled weakly. His naked body was already starting to freeze, he already could not feel his toes or fingers. Closing his eyes, he gently took the knife an acolyte handed him.

Then, without warning, he swiftly plunged it into his chest, ending his life in an instant. Now, even the acolytes knelt down as they began to pray, tears coming down their eyes like fountains.

As the sounds of the soldiers drawing closer intensified, the prayers only picked up in intensity and desperateness. Despite all hopelessness, nobody stopped praying.

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Just as all seemed lost, one of the priests suddenly exclaimed "Look! A light!"

At that moment, everybody's eyes turned to that light. All of the villagers were confused, as they couldn't see it, but all the acolytes began exclaiming and crying out, praying even more fervently.

As the people heard this, their prayers intensified. After a couple seconds, some of the villagers too began to exclaim, seeing that small light.

Soon, everybody could see it. It was just a light, a small, ball of light that looked like a newborn hovering over the high priest's chest. Seeing this, the already desperate prayers turned solemn, and unknown to everyone present, small, almost invisible balls of light flew out from their own chests into the ball of light.

The more one prayed, the more frequently the balls of light came out, and the bigger they were. The largest of these smaller balls came from the acolytes, who had tears streaming down their faces as they prayed, "Mighty one! You are the light of our lives, shining your glory over us! Your will shall carry the earth and grant salvation to us mortals!"

Everyone prayed according to the teaching the high priest had left behind. Soon, that small ball of light began to visibly grow, as it turned from the size of a nail to the size of a fist. 

At that moment, a rough voice shouted from outside the altar, "They're here! Get them! Keep the women alive!"

Despite hearing this, nobody move. They could feel a strange coldness in their bodies that they never knew about slowly being melted away by their prayers, the feeling of doom in their hearts dissipating as this heat grew and grew.

As the doors of the altar began to resound with pounding sounds, one of the acolytes suddenly screamed as he fell down, a strange mark on his face.

However, that acolyte soon got up, his face filled with excitement. He looked at his own hands that seemed to have gained strength and a small, finger-sized fireball appeared on top of his palm.

Many of the acolytes began to display similar reactions. Each one of them fell down and got up, some of them could display fireballs, some small spikes of ice or earth, and one even had a small ball of shadows in his hands.

Soon, the doors were broken down and around 10 invaders came through with grins. However, said grins soon disappeared as they looked at the 100+ people all staring at them coldly.

8 acolytes walked up in front of the crowd, displaying their newfound powers. Seeing this, the invaders began to laugh as they easily blocked the small and weak attacks and prepared to counterattack.

However, before they could do so, a small hymn, almost inaudible, began to sound out from the center of the altar. Hearing this, the villagers felt their fearful hearts calm down instinctively, whilst the invaders suddenly felt a sense of impending doom so great some of them turned pale.

An almost invisible, green barrier suddenly expanded from the center of the altar. It passed through both invaders and villagers without causing any harm, and after reaching the edge of the village, it stopped and disappeared. If one was to look very closely, they might see it, but otherwise, it was invisible.

Soon, all of the invaders, numbering around 70, gathered in front of the altar, looking at the villagers with grins or confusion depending on their stupidity. 

One of the invaders walked out of their crowd. He had a strange symbol on his chest and his gear was the best, signifying his high status. Yelling out, he said, "Surrender, and we will not kill you. Don't surrender, and we will kill you all. The choice is yours..."

However, nobody from the village moved a muscle. They all felt a connection to the small ball of light at the center of the altar, and although it wasn't 'speaking', a soothing calm was transmitted from it, telling them to believe in it.

One of the acolytes yelled out "Never! Leave invaders, or our god will punish you!"

Looking at the young boy who just shouted, the leader of the invaders couldn't help but laugh evilly. "Oh? You and what god?"

Just as he was about to say something more, a feeling of doom suddenly washed over him. He quickly took out his sword and shield, but it was far too late.

A hole had been carved into his chest, and in disbelief, he slowly fell down, his eyes losing all their shine.

Seeing this, all of the invaders paled and took out their weapons. They looked around, but couldn't find the cause of their leader's death. Then, the villagers and acolytes alike fell to their knees, praying once again. This time, their prayers were not filled with uncertainty like last time, but a mad devotion that only fanatics could have.

Seeing this, a couple of the invaders rushed forward in a rage, but in a flash of light, they found their still-beating hearts ripped out from their chests and thrown into the sacrificial part of the altar.

Then, the culprit of all the deaths slowly appeared. It was a floating hand, looking very similar to that of a normal human. However, it had no body to support it, and it was floating around with a holy feel to it.

Pointing at the invaders, the hand didn't speak, but an intent seemed to be transmitted out from it...

"Die."