True to his words, they began hunting monsters—cursed monsters—at a much higher rate. From one hunt to another, Galthor and his team killed all the cursed monsters that got in their way.

Each hunt made them better at it. Far from the first time they went on a hunt, they now worked well together, and their coordination had increased a lot. They almost fought seamlessly as one, complementing each other as best as they could. They can even hold the cursed monster for longer now.

As Galthor instructed, they used the money they made to outfit themselves with new and better weapons. The twenty advanced warriors gained the most benefit from it.

For masters, changing weapons—unless it was a relic—did little to boost their powers. But at least it was better than weapons breaking because they were old and not durable.

The advanced warriors got a big boost in power, and with that, they maintained the meat supply for the villagers and acted as the guards around the village.

That wasn't the only thing Galthor gave them. Just like the martial arts he listened to in audiobooks, those below the master rank could improve themselves and the capacity of essence they could control and handle by using pills and potions or by eating special herbs.

Galthor and the barbarians had absolutely no idea what types of herbs they could find in the Abyssal Land, so they also spent their hard-earned money buying them back in town at the outskirts for the advanced warriors.

Little bits of these were also given to promising villagers, and as such, the number of advanced warriors increased to twenty-five.

But unfortunately, even after a month of cursed monster hunting, they never found another relic, even after killing up to seven cursed monsters.

The only thing they managed to do was spread rumors about themselves.

"The barbarians clearing the Abyssal Land and tearing it apart on their quest for relics! They might even draw monsters to the villages with this!"

That was the news spreading throughout the Revolutionary base, both inside and at the outskirts. One thing Galthor wasn't sure about was whether the rumors were sponsored by the other banners.

It seemed they were the only ones going after the cursed monsters like that. And why not? The others had backers and were rich. They could continue to finance themselves without sending their warriors into the Abyssal Land daily.

But Galthor ignored them and gave them no face. As long as nothing got personal or physical, he preferred to watch as things unfolded.

The farming was also going well, and the farmers had already entered the phase where they needed to weed around the young plants. Just as their Chief told them, when it was planting time, they asked young Korgath to pray and ask for blessings over the farm.

To everyone's surprise, just when the young barbarian finished praying, the ground was filled with glowing green light that seemed to sink into the soil like dew.

After that, the plants grew faster and stronger, with fresh and vibrant leaves. That alone brought about many prayers that caused lesser miracles to stack up for Galthor.

These days, though, he was spending as many lesser miracles as he received. His subconscious mind automatically answered prayers that needed answers.

Galthor did not answer all the prayers. At first, that was what he did, but soon he put a limit on it, especially when he saw how the lesser miracles saved his and his masters' lives in the pocket world.

Now, if it wasn't an emergency or something that affected the whole village, he wouldn't answer it—especially if it was something that could be solved by work or medicine.

But the amount of prayers and devotion did not decrease as he had first feared; instead, they increased, as if people were chasing the idea of him answering their prayers.

At the end, not all prayers could be answered.

To deal with that, Galthor hired a healer and built a medical building in the village where they could treat themselves. The healer was a human, and he wasn't the magical type; he used herbs and nature to heal.

But it worked.

Galthor was thinking of all this and more on their way back from yet another hunt. This time, they didn't even come back with cursed monsters. Still, they hunted dire monsters to fill the gaps and have something to sell.

"Maybe the monsters are running from us? They must have retreated deeper into the Abyssal Land, risking the threats of the fiendish monsters," Karathra pointed out to Galthor.

It wasn't all the masters who went on the hunt either. Galthor had made it a habit to leave one master in the village as the highest authority and power in case anything happened.

But even with that, there was another master missing—Brakthar.

Galthor frowned. "The monsters can't communicate with each other, right?"

"Hopefully not," Karathra shrugged. "But all the cursed monsters hold territories. If those territories start disappearing, then isn't that a warning for the others?"

Galthor grunted. "Makes sense. The two territories we visited today were all empty. We have to do something about this. I didn't know they could start running from us!"

Karathra snorted. "I didn't know cursed monsters could either, but it seems you are troublesome, Chief. Maybe we should reduce our hunts and wait for things to cool down?"

"We need those relics. In fact, we need everything and anything that can make us stronger," Galthor said. It was all about that. He needed more worshippers. His mind—his instincts as a god—told him to expand and get more.

"Even if we can only get three or so more relics, then we'll take things slow."

The others nodded at that, and they continued on their way in relative silence. When they passed the farmers, they called out cheerful greetings, and Galthor waved at them in his usual way.

Just then, a master began to run toward Galthor and his team.

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