Brakthar finally led him to the biggest building in Stronghide territory. It was supposed to look like a wooden castle but ended up just an overly large building that was dragged through a warfront.
Brakthar knocked on the door and soon stepped back. A moment later it swung open and a voice, raised in fury, boiled out even before the face showed. "I’ve told you that there’s no food! I am hungry as well...??"
The face finally appeared. A male barbarian stood there blinking with confusion as he stared at Brakthar, then his face cleared and it lit up. "Brakthar?!"
His voice was so deep that it shook the building and filled the whole village. "Brakthar is here! How much food do you bring? Is the chief here? Where’s..."
He finally noticed the grim expression on Brakthar’s face and he went silent with a bleak look of his own.
Brakthar shook his head, his words short. "I don’t bring food. The chief is dead. I brought your new chief."
Galthor had been standing there silently ignored, and then the man looked at him and his face fell.
"Him," he said flatly.
Brakthar shrugged. "Where is she? The one in charge?"
The barbarian’s eyes never left Galthor. "She’s upstairs, trying to convince the other warriors not to leave. But I guess with you back now, everyone will be leaving."
Brakthar looked back at Galthor as if telling him he could back away now from the hopelessness.
But Galthor only gritted his teeth.
He had no choice, did he? His survival was tied to the barbarians... for now.
So he sighed and strode forward. He lifted his hand and dropped Thrainor on the ground. "Look after that one for me. Brakthar, lead the way."
The barbarian looked at Galthor with a sinister smile and his muscular body coiled as if he might jump into action at any moment. "You dare show your face here? The rumors reached here, you know. You fucking traitor."
Galthor didn’t say anything, he only continued to look at him, his eyes flat and cold. The way he looked at the other barbarian was as if he couldn’t be bothered to waste his words on him.
And it was eerily unnerving to the other barbarian. After all, Galthor might be the son of the chief, but he was also a useless bastard that everyone looked down on and bullied.
But right now, his face was like stone worn with the winds. It was cold and still.
"Well, do come in, honorable chief of the tribe. I’m sure the others in the other banners will be only too glad to tear you apart for the right to the chieftain title. Or maybe she will do it herself!"
The man chuckled and then moved back.
Galthor turned back to Brakthar. "Lead the way."
With a nod, his former personal guard turned one-month temporary follower began to lead the way into the big building.
"Since you have never been here, I will give you the breakdown of the castle. The ground floor is where..." Brakthar began.
But Galthor’s mind was already on another thing.
’... I got it right, right? I have to build a personality for this god thing! I should be cold as steel and unmovable like the mountain...’
’... and not only because of that. In a leadership position, I have to be cold and unyielding. Something like that, right? At least that’s what a lot of the main characters in the audiobooks I read look like...’
’... even then, I am a god... I should try and behave like one...’
It was still a strange concept to Galthor, to know and call himself a god when in his past life, he was the worst that a mortal could have been. Or at least he was down there.
But now, he was a god.
Well, technically, he’s not like how a god should be, but that’s a work in progress. He would get there. He must.
The sobering thought made him turn his attention back to the mountain of tasks he had in front of him.
And to Brakthar.
"... the highest floor is where the chief stays with his closest warriors as well as has all the important meetings."
Suddenly Brakthar stopped in the hallway of the third floor. He turned to him and his voice carried a hint of fear. "Galthor... emm, Chief Galthor, you know who is in there, right?"
Galthor did not. "Who’s in there?"
Brakthar lowered his voice. "It’s Karathra Bloodthorn."
Galthor looked at him with confusion and then his eyes cleared. "Oh."
At the same time his body, his host’s body, trembled. It wasn’t because he feared her, but his body did. The fear had been beaten into him once a long time ago when the host body tried to force himself on one of the female barbarians.
He was beaten senseless by no other person than Karathra Bloodthorn.
Karathra was the strongest warrior in Stronghide and the youngest ever in the tribe to become a master essence user. The chief personally put her in the Revolutionary base to handle things in his absence.
A fearsome person like that was here?
It was both good and very bad.
Good because she was a very strong essence user that Galthor could make use of.
Essence using was the fundamental power that any race could train in and use in a number of different ways. It was divided into five parts, from the first stage to the fifth. The fifth was also the rank of Masters.
To rise above master stage, one must receive a blessing from a god and from there advance through different ranks based on the power of their god.
But receiving a god’s power wasn’t an easy thing, as not everyone had a soul strong enough.
So master essence users were extremely important for any powerhouse.
’... I must have her no matter what... she will join my first tool, yes. That’s what I must do...’
Galthor forced his face into an impassive mask. "Karathra, eh? Alright, let’s go meet her."