Finally, it was Lord Doveling who broke the staring contest, and not because he blinked—he simply looked away. "It was she who came to us by herself. We did not force her, and so she will speak with you. If she does not want to follow you, we will not let her go."

Galthor's face hardened immediately, and his voice turned flat. "She's a barbarian. She will do as her chief commands."

If the Xyrrh were silent before, now they went entirely still, and dozens of cold, unblinking eyes fixed on them. Even the humans turned their heads without moving their bodies to stare at Galthor and Karathra.

Galthor briefly wondered if he should have brought the other masters, but even then, his face was hard and his eyes flat as he stared back at the Xyrrh.

"Chief Galthor," Lord Doveling said, and he did not hide the threat in his voice at all. "When we accepted her, Drakira, she became part of the colony. You cannot take her away from us by force. Know this."

Galthor slowly shook his head. "A barbarian cannot be anything other than a barbarian. And I am the only one who can speak for all barbarians. She will come with me—force or no force."

All the Xyrrh hissed, their claws snapping the air with audible cracks. Lord Doveling's antennae flickered even more. "Who are you to speak for the barbarians?"

'...because I'm their god, you insects!..' Galthor wanted to shout, but he kept it inside. One day, he would shout it for all to hear.

"Because I'm the Apocalypse of Unchanging Wrath."

"Who's that? Do the Stronghide have a new leader? I thought it was you?"

Galthor smiled. "That, Lord Doveling, is the name of the barbarian god."

Lord Doveling froze. "The rumors—they are true?"

Galthor shook his head. "I don't know what you heard, but what I know—and what is—is that we now have a god, and I am his apostle."

Lord Doveling continued to look at him, then he snapped his fingers. "Bring Drakira."

The great door rumbled open again, and more Xyrrh poured inside, followed by a lone barbarian who loomed over them. She glared at both Galthor and Karathra.

"What is it? Are you here to kill me because I went away? The chief is dead! Stronghide is gone! And you, Karathra! I'm ashamed you'd follow... this thing! Have you forgotten when he reached his disgusting hands toward you? And the way he always looked at every female? If not for his father, his eyes should have been served to him a long time ago!"

Silence was heavy in the hall as Karathra avoided looking directly at Galthor and faked a cough.

Galthor himself suddenly found he was in an awkward situation as he looked at the young barbarian glaring at him. What should he say? That it was him of the past, but now old things have passed away?

Surprisingly, it was Lord Doveling who broke the awkward silence. "Interesting. I didn't know you had such a... colorful personality, Lord Galthor."

Galthor turned to frown at the Xyrrh, his expression unhappy. Why do you want to add more fire, you think insect!

Drakira scoffed. "I heard about it all—going around claiming to be a messenger of the barbarian god! My only question is, if a god would choose someone like you to speak for them, then isn't the god, by default, questionable? Or is it a god of lust and..."

"Enough, Drakira! This is the chief; you will respect him!" Karathra snapped.

Drakira sneered. "He's not my chief. Besides, why should I respect him? It's Galthor... I mean, Galthor the pervert eyes!"

Suddenly, Karathra's aura flared, and her eyes narrowed as her threatening presence filled the hall. The Xyrrh reacted, swiftly opening and closing their claws sharply. But she ignored them, her attention focused on Drakira, who flinched back. "And what of me? Will you respect me?"

Drakira grimaced. "Of course. You are Karathra Bloodthorn."

She put a lot of emphasis on the name, as if it should mean something.

And it did.

"Alright, I will hear what you have to say," Drakira finally said when Karathra retracted her aura.

Galthor studied the situation carefully and then shrugged. His past reputation was already in tatters, and he could only build on what he had now.

For the moment, he decided to ignore it.

So his voice turned cold and hard. "Drakira, you have betrayed your tribe by departing the Stronghide without going through the proper way. You did not even seek the truth of the chief's death or try to carry out his blood debt. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Drakira opened her mouth and closed it, her eyes wide. She thought Galthor was here to beg her to return, so why did it look as if she was suddenly on trial? "You... you don't have the right to question me!"

"But I do. Like it or not, I am the Chief of Stronghide. I am the blood of the former chief, and I have inherited his will and authority. And so I ask again, what do you have to say for yourself, warrior who turned her back on her tribe?"

Drakira gritted her teeth, but before she could say anything, Galthor continued, and this time the indifference in his voice lifted, replaced by anger. "Do you know that the old and young almost starved to death because of your actions?

"You would have wiped away the hope of my father—the one you swore to serve. His people, your people, our people would have starved to death because of the selfishness of some of you masters!"

Galthor's voice thundered, and she flinched as she felt the anger in it like living flame.

Indeed, Galthor was angry. His host father really did a lot. He sacrificed too much for the tribe and the tribesmen to be repaid the way he was.

It pained him greatly.

"So I ask again, what do you have to say for yourself, Drakira?"

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