A miracle

"Is this the temple where the god is worshipped?"

Gron looked around. Ruined was a better description of this place than damaged.

Collapsed stone pillars, dust covering the floor, objects worn away by time-there were almost no recognizable signs of which god was worshipped here.

Without the enormous altar in the center, this place would have been no different from the ruins out on the wasteland.

But when it came to gods, Gron dared not take chances, even though he had never seen one.

Yet his clanspeople could not hold out much longer. They urgently needed food and somewhere safe to rest.

Apparently concerned that their chief had not returned, many of his clanspeople had followed him here.

Looking at the clanspeople around him, all pinning their hopes on him, Gron knew he could wait no longer.

"Isara, take those offerings down and distribute them among our people."

"Chief!" Isara cried urgently. "What you're doing is blasphemy! If the god unleashes their wrath upon us, we'll all die!"

Isara spoke so urgently that it sounded as though she had actually witnessed such a thing.

Gron did not know whether gods existed, but he knew his people really would die without food.

"I know! I'll bear the consequences if anything happens. Don't forget, I'm the chief."

Isara wanted to say more, but the chief had given his order. She had no choice but to obey.

Isara looked around. Agile as she was, she did not need to climb slowly like the other bugs.

After choosing a spot, she bounded up the stone wall in a few leaps and reached the raised platform where the statue stood.

Passing the stone statue, Isara bowed reverently to it, then carefully carried the plates down.

Before long, everyone saw what the offerings were: three large plates piled high with fresh moss balls.

"Incredible. These moss balls look freshly picked. They even smell fresh."

"But there's clearly no sign of anyone having been here. There aren't any footprints on the ground. Surely these moss balls didn't fly onto the plates by themselves?"

Gron's attention was entirely on the offerings. He, at least, could think of no way to place something so high up without leaving any traces.

The chief was beginning to have misgivings, but the other bugs could not think that far ahead with food right before their eyes.

Many of the bugs could not look away after a single glance. Swallowing hungrily, they all waited for the chief's permission.

"Ah, go ahead and eat," Gron said, giving in.

The next instant, every bug reached for the plates. In no time, all three heaping plates of moss balls had been divided up, leaving nothing behind.

The moisture-filled moss balls melted in their mouths. This was easily the best meal the clan had eaten in some time.

The joy of being alive returned to many of the clanspeople's faces.

Yet despite this rare delicacy, Gron ate more and more slowly.

Isara had already checked. There were no signs of anyone else having been here, so where had these moss balls come from?

Could it really have been a god?

The more Gron thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Perhaps the god was watching him right now from somewhere he could not see.

"No, I have to do something."

Gron made his decision and immediately gathered his people.

Recalling what the previous chief had taught him while still alive, Gron knelt on one knee, planted his weapon upright before him, and began praying to the statue.

The old chief had once said that gods loved faith above all else, and that the prayers of living beings brought them immeasurable joy.

The clanspeople did not really understand either, but years of migration had taught them to follow their chief's lead in everything. They repeated the prayer after him.

Isara was the most sincere of all. Her prayer was even more complete and eloquent than Gron's.

Clearly, she had remembered more of the old chief's teachings on this subject, and remembered them more clearly than Gron.

Once the prayers were finished, the clan began a rare period of rest. Aside from the necessary sentries, almost everyone fell asleep immediately.

Even on the hard floor of a cave, the safety of not having to worry about attackers let them sleep soundly.

Gron was nervous at first, too, but when a long time passed without anything happening, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"We should be all right now, shouldn't we?"

Constant vigilance had exhausted his body. In this rare moment of safety, Gron finally could not keep his eyes from closing.

Some time later, just as even the bugs standing guard were beginning to struggle to stay awake, something unusual happened.

Bzzzz!

At first, there were only one or two, but then more and more appeared.

"Counterattack Flies!"

The sentries immediately shouted a warning, waking everyone in the clan.

Counterattack Flies relied on numbers to overwhelm their prey. They dared to attack even large creatures.

Gron had no fondness for these predators, which could be found almost everywhere in the wasteland.

Grabbing the weapon he always kept beside him, the chief immediately assembled the clan's few warriors to protect the others.

The warriors practicedly struck their weapons to make noise, drawing the Counterattack Flies into attacking them.

Most Counterattack Flies let out a strange cry just before they attacked.

The experienced warriors took advantage of the moment the Counterattack Flies lunged, leaping backward.

As they dodged the attacks, they struck back with their weapons. This was a fighting technique they had learned through years of survival.

Gron, their chief, was even more direct. With the tremendous strength of his arms, he swung his spear as easily as if it were a twig.

Whenever a Counterattack Fly tried to ambush him, he countered it with the shield in his other hand.

This ferocious fighting style naturally drew the most attention, but that was precisely his intent.

The warriors fought back with all their might. At first, they could cope, but the number of Counterattack Flies kept growing.

Even Gron, the best fighter among them, began to pant.

Even in such desperate circumstances, the clan's unity allowed them to barely hold their own.

Then a shriek shattered that balance, and an enormous predator several times larger than the other Counterattack Flies appeared before them.

It had a massive body and a sharp beak, with countless followers swarming around it.

Without a doubt, this was the king of the Counterattack Flies.

Counterattack Flies, usually a rare sight, had appeared in such numbers inside this cave, and there was even a special individual known as a king among them.

Their luck was so terrible that even Gron began to wonder whether stealing the god's offerings had truly provoked divine wrath.

Perhaps that was why the god had sent these predators to destroy his clan.

They could not win. That simple fact soon sank into the minds of every bug in the clan.

Against a flying predator that could swallow them in one bite, the difference in strength was painfully clear.

Gron had no answers either. He could only fight with all his might, buying as much time as possible for his clan.

But there were simply too many predators. No matter how he swung his weapon, their numbers never seemed to decrease.

His vision began to blur, and his hands were slowly losing their grip on his weapons.

Gron had fallen into despair. The only solution he could think of was to plead with that god who had never shown themselves.

At last, prolonged hunger and exhaustion caused even a battle-hardened warrior like him to make a mistake. The king of the Counterattack Flies pecked the spear from his hand.

Then he felt himself being flung upward. He rose into the air before beginning to fall.

Without even looking, Gron knew the king of the Counterattack Flies was directly beneath him, its jaws wide open as it waited for its prey to drop into its mouth.

"Was this... the end?"

Suddenly, Gron felt time slow. In those final moments, he saw his clanspeople shouting to him and Isara running toward him. Scenes from his past flashed before his eyes.

Birth, hunger, battles, migration, his people's trust, his succession as chief.

Scene after scene of the clan passed before his eyes, yet not one was about him alone.

Yes, he had long since given everything he had to the clan that had borne and raised him.

"God! If there truly is a god, I beg you! Save us!"

Time passed slowly.

Time passed quickly.

When Gron came to his senses, he landed on the ground. He had not been eaten as he had expected.

Gron looked back and saw his people staring in astonishment and fear, as though they had witnessed something beyond their understanding.

"What happened?"

But no one answered him.

Gron could only turn to follow their gazes. He froze.

What was he seeing?

A ball of flame floated in midair, with nothing supporting it.

The Counterattack Flies, so noisy before, now all hung back in fear.

They kept shrieking at the flame, as though it were some terrifying natural enemy.

"Heavens! A god! It's a god!"

No one knew who had spoken first, but soon every bug in the clan realized what had happened.

They all fell to their knees, once again reciting their prayers.

This time, their chief had not led them. They did it entirely of their own accord.

Isara's eyes shone with exceptional devotion. In fact, she had been the first to submit.

She had known it. There really was a god, and now the god had come to save them.

Gron forced himself to stand. He did not know what was happening, but he knew he had to do something now.

Before his kneeling clanspeople, Gron braced himself upright and chose to address the flame.

"God, have you come to punish us?"

As though responding to his words, the ball of flame slowly drifted toward Gron.

It drew closer. Only when the flame reached him did its scorching heat confirm that this was no illusion.

A ball of flame really was burning in midair, sustained by nothing.

"Accept me as your lord. Offer me your loyalty and faith."

The ball of flame did not speak aloud, yet a voice appeared in his mind out of nowhere.

Amid his shock, Gron realized something else. It seemed the god had not come to punish the clan for stealing the offerings.

The god even seemed interested in the clan. This was an opportunity!

Without a moment's hesitation, Gron dropped to his knees.

"God! I offer you my loyalty and faith! I accept you as my lord!"

The clanspeople behind him shouted in unison, "We offer the god our loyalty and accept you as our lord."

"Very good. Then you are my first believers."