They put the body of the water serpent and toad into The Drown and decided to return. They had done enough for the day. They would continue their hunting another time.

When they passed the entrance and those at the outpost saw their empty hands, they couldn't help but hide their smiles. The fact that the barbarians were hunting for relics wasn't something particularly hidden from anyone, so when they saw them empty-handed, they whispered among themselves.

"Do they think it's easy, just go in and start hunting for relics?"

"They're really barbarians, right? What are we even doing here with them!"

"Fool, don't you know this territory falls under the purview of the Stronghide ChainLord?"

"But he's dead now!"

"Well, you asked why they were here!"

"Ssssh! Their leader is the real deal. Better not let him hear you!"

Galthor and the others ignored them as they went on their way to the village. On their way, they stopped by the farm the villagers had set up.

It wasn't that large, but it was enough for the time being and was doing the most important thing—keeping the people busy and giving them something to focus on.

A lot of them were old barbarians who had been brought over under the pretense of death to give them what little freedom they could enjoy before their end, and all they knew throughout their lives was working wherever their Overlord wanted.

Those who were young were either bought or also sneaked away under similar circumstances. Apart from training, they would be working on the farm.

From the rumors Galthor had heard, the real reason they wanted to work was so they could break their dependence on the food he was giving them.

Right now, they were still clearing the farmland for the crops they would plant. If it were back on Earth, Galthor would have looked at them strangely, because how could they expect plants to grow underground?

The light that spread everywhere like a stain could give one the illusion that it was almost outside, but it wasn't. Still, this was a divine world, and of course, there were numerous plants that grew without sunlight or even water.

"The Chief is here!"

"Chief! You are welcome, Chief!"

"How was the hunting, Chief?"

"Thank you for all you've done, Chief!"

Galthor looked at his people with satisfaction. They had all changed during the few weeks since their return. The medicine and food had made great changes in them; they began to regain the weight and glow they had lost.

Galthor watched them with a smile of his own. Since everyone had stopped working and turned toward him, he decided to say some motivating words. "Thank you all! And thank you for your great work!"

The people cheered. Of course, all of them knew of Galthor's past reputation, but things were becoming blurry about that, and they weren't even sure if those were malicious rumors about their Chief.

"Chief! I've already taught them the way to pray! And they all know about young Korgath being a chosen! Look at him, he might even be an apostle like you in the future!" Grimvar smiled and pointed.

Young Korgath stood awkwardly to the side beside his father, feeling a little uncomfortable under all the eyes that looked at him with respect and awe.

Galthor sighed internally. Grimvar was just doing too much at the moment, but then again, Galthor was the one who had set up the little barbarian.

He would have to take responsibility, but right now, what was he supposed to even say? How does one make a chosen? What does it even mean?

Suddenly, a flash of an idea came to Galthor, and he looked at Korgath with a gentle smile. "The sight of our god is surely on you, young Korgath. You should bless our farm when we are ready for planting. Unchanging Wrath sees you."

Galthor decided to go with the flow. Really, wasn't that what he had been doing all along?

The way the villagers looked at Korgath changed even more, and they gave him wide eyes filled with respect and reverence.

It was different from the way they looked at the Chief. The Chief was a barbarian, but at the same time, his position was already different from theirs. Back in the real territory, the Stronghide Chief and his family did not have to work together with the barbarians.

But young Korgath was different. He was one of them through and through, and so it was a different thing entirely when they looked at him and saw the will of their god.

Galthor noticed all of this, and he nodded as he continued on his way to the village. "Brakthar, your job is to convert the monster meat into resources, but take some for the villagers to eat."

Monster meat—the higher the rank, the more benefits it would provide for those working with essence.

"You should also add weapons to the priority list. We'll be outfitting all the warriors, including ourselves, with the best we can get. Also, we need to get all those enchanted relics to make things easier for us."

Brakthar hesitated. "Chief, I know cursed monsters are expensive, but all the things we need are also expensive to buy, especially here at the Revolutionary base.

"Food and medicine are already straining our small chain of economy. If we add all of these, then I don't think the hunter teams could keep up."

Galthor had expected as much. "Yes. That means we'll need to kill more cursed monsters. We'll kill all the cursed monsters in our territory if we have to. And it's a win-win situation, as we'll also be searching for relics. I will be the one to lead the hunting team, so I don't think it's all trouble."

When they heard Galthor's plan, they couldn't help but shudder. They had nearly died today. Only Galthor would talk about killing cursed monsters as if it were as easy as taking a walk in a normal forest.

Brakthar looked at him, deadpan. "Right."

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