Galthor returned to the banner with the two masters and handed them over to Ashclaw.

The fighting force of the barbarians had just been elevated from the lowest to the highest. With seven masters and Galthor among them, they were not to be underestimated at all.

But even then, compared to the other banners, they were not all that strong, and that was because the others had backers behind them who sponsored them.

The Stronghide were alone and had to strive for themselves.

Galthor had asked about the fighting power of the other banners, but no one had been able to give him accurate answers. Nobody knew how much power the others were hiding.

Take the Winged people, for example. They only showed Commander Oryn as the face of their strength, but who knew if that was true? Nobody knew the number of masters they had or how many "Commander Oryns" were among their ranks. They kept it hidden.

That was all Galthor could think about throughout the following weeks that passed after he brought back the masters.

It had been three weeks since then.

The things Galthor focused on were rebuilding, recovering, and food. With the hunters securing food and means of money for them, they were able to get the basic things that the tribe needed—things like blankets, clothes, bedding, and such.

After the first week of rest, he made all the villagers begin to work. The advanced hunters would go into the Abyssal Land, following behind the masters to bring back timber.

And as it turned out, no one knew how to build things among the barbarians. So Galthor had to use money to hire carpenters from the outermost part of the base to start the rebuilding of his village, with the villagers helping them.

The advanced warriors' training took a hit, but that couldn't be helped, as they were the only ones capable of entering the Abyssal Land to drag out the timber among their fellow warriors in training.

That meant the other warriors in training could continue training.

And after three weeks, the sound of hammers striking nails had finally stopped. Even Galthor's "castle" had been touched a bit, but one thing he was most excited about was the religious aspect of his tribe.

These days, Galthor now had a steady stream of prayers every morning and night, and that meant lesser miracles. After that first time he'd tested it out and found he could indeed heal his followers through miracles. In fact, when one house caught fire and one of them prayed to him, he was able to use a lesser miracle to put out the fire!

It was something that shouldn't have been possible, as he wasn't a god who had dominion over such things, and yet he was able to do it. The others noticed as well, but most of them thought it was normal—after all, they'd never had a god before—but Karathra questioned him about it. "What type of god is Unchanging Warth exactly?"

Galthor had shrugged. "The barbarian one."

The only theory Galthor was able to come up with was that barbarians were somehow unique. After all, even when they were at their peak, they only ever had one god, whereas other races had more than that.

Maybe that was why he was able to show miracles in such a way?

But he couldn't even believe the effect it had. Right now, all the villagers were full of worship. The lesser miracles had entirely convinced them—not to mention the fact that Galthor would show himself to them now and then, sitting on a mountain, larger than life.

The result was that he was now three times stronger than when he fought that cursed monster.

"We're all here, Chief," Karathra said, breaking into his thoughts.

Galthor blinked and looked around him. He was at the head of the table while the others stared at him. "So you are."

He had called the meeting earlier.

Karathra, Brakthar, Ashclaw, and Grimvar.

Those were the people in attendance, and they represented the different "departments" he had at the moment.

Karathra was like the second-in-command, and Brakthar was the reluctant accountant and diplomatic officer who interacted with the outer market to buy things and negotiate for them.

Ashclaw led the masters, and Grimvar was the face of all the warriors in training—thus, the face of the villagers as well.

"Now that we are all here, let's discuss the important matter. How do we raise our overall strength to match the other banners? No—to come close, as we can't match them for now." Galthor didn't beat around the bush and instantly told them what he wanted.

Grimvar was the first to speak, and his eyes shone with a glimmer of light as he looked at Galthor. "I know, Chief! Why don't we just pray to our god to bless us? He's already performing miracles, and he's already blessed us. He should do the same for the rest of the warriors as well!"

Everyone looked at the stage-four essence user, but Grimvar didn't notice their expressions at all as he looked at Galthor intently.

"That isn't a bad idea, and that would have been how it would be done if Unchanging Warth wasn't weak right now." Galthor had already decided to share things with him, as Grimvar was now part of his inner circle. "Listen, our god is just awakening and doesn't yet have the power to bless us. Right now, we are only in the position to serve him. But in the future, we will all reap the benefits of our dedication."

And he meant it. Everyone who helped in his rise would all get their reward. It was that simple.

Grimvar blinked in surprise. "Oh, I didn't know that. No wonder we've not declared a Divine War on anyone!"

Divine War was the term used when one god officially went to war with another in a full-blown fight that usually ended with one of them dead.

Galthor shrugged. "We likely won't be doing that for a long time. Any other suggestions?"

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