The knocking was long and short, three strikes followed by two, growing louder and louder. The wooden doors of the decaying temple began to tremble, the mud and plaster peeling off as if something would break through the next second.
Oddly enough, the temple's doors were already very old, their surfaces riddled with many cracks, and the door bolt was only as thick as a wrist. Even someone with a bit of strength could kick them open with one foot.
Yet, it seemed as if the entity on the other side could not destroy the dilapidated doors.
As the knocking intensified.
The refugees inside the temple paled, knowing that the one knocking was definitely not human.
But when they saw the two players inside the temple unmoved, they suppressed their fear, sat in a corner, huddling in their clothes for warmth. The temperature in the mountains dropped sharply at night; fortunately, the temple provided shelter from the wind and rain. With small fires built up, people wouldn't freeze to death.