After eating his fill of dragon meat and cutting pieces of its wings to make clothes, Brand got to work on a piece of dragon core he still had. He reached into his chest, the skin and muscles coming apart like woven cloths. His life craft skills made extracting one of the many cores in his body simple. This core in particular held Thora’s enneagram and soul. The core was basic, pulled from a common beast, and not suitable to house anything complex without it degrading over time.
Brand held the basic core in one hand and the dragon core in the other. He pulled Thora’s enneagram from the basic core leaving an unactivated copy and had the original move through his body without changing it in the slightest. Without any mana resistance, the exchange was easy and within a few minutes and Thora’s soul resided within a new core.
He tossed it to Thora who was now draped in dragonhide and scales. “What are you giving this to me for?” she asked, eyeing the core.
“It’s your soul,” Brand answered. “I’m giving it back.”
Thora gave the core a closer inspection, but still didn’t seem to believe him. “If this is my soul, why do I still feel so weak?”
“Because you need to cultivate,” Brand explained. “You’ll get stronger over time by naturally absorbing mana, but cultivating speeds things up. In a few decades, you could be stronger than any apex mage.”
“I have to wait years to regain my strength,” Thora said with frustration.
“Well, you don’t have a god pouring mana into that body. Anyway, do whatever you like.”
“So you’re just letting me go?” Thora said in a tone that almost made it seem like she was complaining.
“I don’t keep slaves,” Brand explained. “I just needed a suitable core to place you in before leaving. Now that I’ve found one and have the to me warm long enough to get me where I'm going, there’s no reason to hold you.” Brand pointed a certain direction. “That way is the King’s Road if you didn’t know. I have to get where I’m going as fast as possible. You’ll slow me down.”
“But,” Thora said uncertainty. “You’re really just letting me go?”
“Actually,” Brand wondered. He then pulled out some of the dragon skin he collected and began writing spell forms onto it with mana. “You need to find a thaumaturge to add this to your body. It will protect you from most attempts to control you. Necromancers are especially dangerous.” When he handed the skin over, Thora took it reverently. “I see someone finally appreciates my work.”
Thora met his eyes still looking confused. “Thank you.”
Her words held more weight and emotion than could be voiced, but Brand didn’t have time to travel with a companion. He’d already wasted enough time as it was. Not to mention the timelines he predicted were now all wrong thanks to his battle with Vara.
“Well, have a nice life,” Brand said then took off running at a speed Thora couldn't hope to match.
*********
“That asshole,” Thora said. “He just left me!”
She threw the dragon skin parchment on the ground and nearly stomped on it, but paused. She knelt down picking it up and tried to read it. She recognized none of the runes or the way they were placed. Even if the spell was laid out, she didn’t have the skill to cast it.
“What am I supposed to do now?” she thought.
She had no family or friends to speak of. She certainly wouldn’t be joining the thunderers again. If she were stronger, joining a mercenary band would be an option. Fighting was all she knew, but in her current state, she was worth maybe a weaker second gate cultivator.
Thora groaned. She didn’t even have the gold to hire someone to cast the spell given to her. There were plenty of dragon scales to sell, but for how much she didn’t know. Thunderers weren’t merchants after all.
“Ex-thunderer,” she reminded herself.
The truth was, Thora would rather be with Phantom, at least until she found something better. He’d called her a slave, but she didn’t feel like one.
“Why do I even care!” she shouted.
Phantom was an admitted criminal. He was a sex peddler and preyed on the innocent with drugs. She should not want anything to do with such a man. He was also an egotistical mage even if he fought with a weapon in hand. He was also the only person she knew outside of Gimli even if by a fake name.
Thora looked at the dragon skin in her hands again. She rolled it up and tucked it beneath her improvised waste band. She then collected as many dragon scales as she could carry and chose her path. It was the same one Phantom had taken, the one not headed toward the King’s Road.
Thora tried her best not to think as she ran through the snow, but her mind was restless. She couldn’t help thinking about how finding Phantom would be almost impossible. He would disappear as soon as he reached civilization. Would she have to search every brothel and den of iniquity to find him? How far did his organization even run? Was he even telling the truth of what he was? Did it even matter?
Thora slid across a bed of snow before coming to a stop. “What am I doing?” she chided herself. “The forces of gods and men will be looking for him. What chance do I have?” A shiver ran down her spine as she realized Magni would be looking for Phantom too. Was being near him even safe?
Explosions in the distance brought Thora’s thoughts to an end. She looked to the sky hoping Phantom had stopped to kill another dragon, but quickly realized the sounds were coming from further down the mountain she was on.
She followed the booms with difficulty as they echoed from several directions. By the time Thora found the source, she was winded and aching all over from sprinting without reserve but the scene below her still stole her breath.
Maybe half a dozen bodies lay around Phantom, all motionless from injuries that colored the snow red, but Thora hardly noticed them. The only man standing was a fox kin that was nearly as tall as Phantom who he held by the neck a few feet off the ground.
The god killer was covered in blood with more pouring from his mouth. One of his hands hung uselessly broken while the other rained down blows on the beast kin. Phantom’s struggling did nothing as the beast kin talked gingerly and struck him every once in a while.
When a cry escaped Phantom’s lips from a punch to his side, Thora’s vision went red. She charged with fire in her vein from how fast her mana was throttling. She roared as if still retaining her berserker blessing. A sword stabbed into the ground made its way into her hands just before she leaped and swung with the blade shining blue with her mana.
******
“How’d you find me?” Brand asked stoically.
He was surrounded by strikers who’s skills and focuses he didn’t know. None were from Saint Hilda’s and were all probably second generation to the company like Cora and Dagfinn. The only striker Brand knew was Cull, which only let him know how fucked he was.
“Oh, come on Brandy,” Cull smiled. “You don’t look happy to see me.”
“I have literally never been happy to see you. Now, how the fuck did you find me!”
Brand was now shouting, his composure gone. He’d lost. All of his plans were now mostly likely at an end. Worse, now that he’d been caught North and South Bastion would burn in the flames of war. Without his help, his friend would either be captured by strikers or forced to stay in exile; hunted by the Dreyarks for the rest of their lives. All this because somehow Cull was able to find him in the middle of nowhere.
“Don’t you know?” Cull taunted. “I thought thaumaturges knew all about scrying magic.”
Except Brand couldn't be scried. His focus made any attempt of scrying impossible. No one, no matter how skilled or powerful should have been able to detect his mana. The strikers should have been forced to scour North Bastion for him giving Brand time to set traps and engage on his terms. Without that advantage, his plans would have to change for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Well anyway,” Cull continued. “Why don't you come in without a fight.”
“I’ll come in when I damn well please,” Brand said, wiping up the snow around him as his mana throttled faster. “If you haven't noticed, I'm a lot stronger than when I trained with you.”
“No, you're not,” Cull declared. “From what Brunhild said, you're still nothing but a weak ranked four cultivator. The bit of mana you have now is whatever is leftover from that dragon you took down. My team can take you.”
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“It sounds like you're not joining in,” Brand said.
“I will if I have to, but I never miss out on a teachable moment. How often do we get a chance to face an enemy like you?”
Brand growled. “Maybe I should take my chances running for it.”
“And don’t think of running Brandy,” Cull warned he could read his mind. “You won't make it far with me here.”
******
Many of Cull’s team turned to him looking quite angry. None of them wanted to face Brand head-on and most likely thought their leader would take point letting them provide support. Such a mindset was the mark of an amateur as well as turning from an enemy. As strikers, they should have been ready for their leader to be taken down.
Brand took advantage of the mistake and charged, making Cull proud. He’d done the same thing to him several times and was glad his former student adopted the same strategy. If Cull had trained Torstin, Brand would not have shattered his hastily made stone wall. It was better than a mana shield, but might as well be made of snow against a cannonball.
“The idiot should have run instead of trying to hold his ground.”
Brand crashed into Torstin, nailing him into the ground with a single punch. Before anyone could react, his mana throttling redoubled and he charged. Leif was able to raise his orichalcum shield in time, but Brand’s conjured ax still cut into it drawing a line of blood from his arm and smashing the shield into his face, dropping him limply to the ground with a blood-covered face.
Before Brand could take another step, the other strikers moved. Frida, with her dark black hair that waa so long it dragged across the ground, encircled Brand with ever grown braids that were tough as steel wiring.
“That was a mistake,” Cull thought. “She‘s too reliant on her focus.”
Brand spun his hand grasping the strands around him tightly then pulled Frida off her feet in an overhead motion to send her crashing into the ground. He didn't stop there. Sten sent blades of sharpened air with several swings of his sword that cut bloody gashes across Frida’s arms and stomach as Brand used her as a shield. Rocks and ice then rose up encasing Brand in a mound that grew smaller as Yrsa compressed her creation with a hand gesture.
For several seconds, Cull thought that might be it. Yrsa’s telekinesis was terrifyingly efficient. With such a small mana pool and no way to replenish it, Brand was finished.
“I didn't think it would be over so soon,” Cull thought to himself. Brand’s strength was a point of pride for him even if it was mostly due to his unique mage craft.
Out of nowhere, Frida began screaming. Her aura shrank as it was pulled through her hair into the mound of stone and ice. Sten tried to cut her hair with a wind blade but couldn't slice through before the mound exploded with invisible mana tearing it apart and red lightning crackling within.
Brand burst from his prison of stone towards Yrsa maintaining a steady draw on Frisda’s mana pool by dragging her along by her hair. Before he could reach her, Yrsa’s aura swelled with the casting of Striker’s Onslaught. The rocks and ice around her shot upwards and gathered, creating a golem around her in seconds where it should have taken minutes. Brand didn't slow, however. He wasn't foolish enough to give the hulking giant time to attack him.
With an earth-shattering leap, Brand collided with the golem caving in its chest and breaking much of the stone making up its back sending Yrsa plummeting to the ground. The golem fell apart right after, forcing Brand to defend Yrsa’s unconscious body from the falling debris.
That gave Cull some relief. Brand didn't see the strikers as enemies that needed to die, just obstacles to be forced out of his way. His kindness wouldn’t go unpunished though.
“Striker’s Onslaught!” Frida called out with the moment's reprieve Brand had allowed. Her hair grew rapidly and constricted holding him in place with more strength than he could muster. Several loose strands came together into spikes that stabbed into Brand all across his body sprinkling the snow in his blood.
“She’s got more potential than I thought.”
Cull’s expectations were further broken when she pulled Brand in delivering punches covered in thick and sharp locks of hair around her fist. Her hair somehow empowered her strikes and with Striker’s Onslaught still active, Brand’s Ironsides wasn't enough to protect him, but it wouldn't last. Frida's aura was shrinking rapidly. She might be drawing blood, but in moments, her mana pool would be completely empty.
“Sten!” Frida called out as the last of her mana was burned away along with much of her hair that was now catching fire from so much power running through it. “Finish this!”
Sten raised his sword above his head with his mana flaring. “Striker’s Onslaught!”
Sten brought his sword down releasing a blast of air that Cull wasn't sure he couldn't walk away from without serious injuries. Frida held on just long enough for the wind blade to hit, but Brand just managed to cover his face with his arms before a line of gusting blood was carved into him.
Brand doubled over and looked to be about to drop to his knees. He managed to keep his footing after stumbling and glared at Cull with his bleeding quickly coming under control. “That fucking hurt!” he said in a growl.
“I bet it did,” Cull said, clearly enjoying the show.
“Surrender!” Frida shouted as the last of her hair burned away leaving a smoking patch on her head. “You don't stand a-”
Brand quieted Frida with a punch to her stomach. With all her mana used up, there were no enchantments or aura to protect her, leaving the woman unconscious on the snowy ground. Brand then darting around to avoid sharp ice crystals that shot out of thin air from every direction. Cull soon felt the magic responsible for the attack wash over him.
Torstin, who had woken from Brand’s initial attack, was flooding the area with his power to create a mana zone. It allowed him to cast magic from anywhere within the area.
“What the fool doesn't realize is that Brand is feeding off his magic,” Cull realized watching the faint blue permeating the area fade as Brand moved through it.
Several icicle shards slammed into Brand. If he were any other fourth gate cultivator, they would have torn him apart, but with his Ironsides, the ice spikes just managed to draw blood.
He caught one that came his way and hurled it at Torstin. The striker dodged, but the move interrupted his casting giving Brand a chance to charge him. Sten tried to stop him with a burst of wind blades, but Brand ran straight through the barrage earning smalls cut but nothing he couldn't handle.
“Wait! Wait!” Torstin cried.
He made another hastily built stone wall but Brand just sky stepped over it. In a desperate attempt to save himself, Torstin even tried using a mana shield. It vanished in an instant and the mage soon after from being stomped back into the ground this time with a heavier blow that left him in a small crater with too many broken bones to rejoin the fight even if he regained consciousness.
“I’m recommending him for more training,” Cull decided. “Dumbass used spells I specifically said not.”
“That just leaves you,” Brand said to Sten.
To his credit, Sten’s hands weren’t shaking when he held his sword forward. Maybe he thought there was a way to win?
Sten’s aura exploded outwards with such power his armor visibly cracked. “Striker’s Onslaught!”
He left a fissure in the ground and storm-like winds when he closed the distance to Brand, appearing as if in a single step. There would be no time for Brand to dodge. He might as well be frozen and wouldn't be able to avoid Sten’s blade, but he wouldn't need to.
Without warning, Sten was sent flying by an explosion of magic. He hit the ice with a meaty thud all but one of his limbs bent in the wrong direction. Thankfully he was out cold because the pain he’d be in if he wasn't would be excruciating.
“Magic mine?” Cull inquired.
“Yeah,” Brand answered. “Did you really think they could take me?”
“They could have won, but hesitated,” Cull admitted. “Your mage craft keeping them from fighting at their best didn't help. Frida, the one with the hair, could have killed just about anyone else with spells channels through her hair. In your case, it would only make you stronger. But this really was good training for situations where your talents are countered.
“I could have killed them.”
“You wouldn't,” Cull said confidently. “You’ll want back in at some point Brandy. Whatever plans you have, whatever trouble you stir up, it’s still for the greater good, at least in your head it is. But killing a fellow striker, you wouldn't do that. In a lot of ways you’re like me.” Brand scoffed but Cull continued. “We aren't needles or daggers that are meant to be precise and hidden. We’re hammers!” Cull smacked his fist together sending egos through the mountain range. “We see a problem and we smash it. I even rebelled once in my youth. Makarov himself had to take me down. Although, I didn't stir things up as much as you did killing a god and all.”
“Is this heart to heart supposed to convince me to come in without a fight?” Brand said
“No,” Cull said, maintaining his chipper mood. “I'm just saying after I beat you bloody and drags you back to the old man, there won't be any hard feelings. This happens from time to time and it just takes someone like me to make it right. You’ll be on my team like you should have been all along. Brunhild saw your information gathering skills and snatched you up for herself, but I think everyone agrees that was not the best idea for someone like you.”
Brand adopted a fighting stance. “That’s assuming you can take me in.”
Cull shrugged. “That's not really up for debate.”
Cull’s mana began throttling around him, moving like a sticky paste through his body. With all eight gates opened, he had more than enough mana to be considered a mage making his control suboptimal. It would take him twice as long to reach his throttling limit now than in his youth, giving an enemy a large window of opportunity to attack. That was the biggest downside to being an apex cultivator, but Cull wouldn't let Brand capitalize on that weakness.
With an aura so thin a strong wind could peel it away, Cull dash forward exploding against three magic mines. They made a mess of his coat but left him without so much as singed chest hair. When he reached within arm’s length of Brand, his student tried desperately to block the incoming fist, and Cull let him, purposefully landing his blow on Brand’s forearm.
A heart-wrenching tearing could be heard as Brand’s roots to the world were severed as to not crush him under Cull’s strength. If he were facing away from the mountain Brand would have flown for some time landing several thousand feet below. Luckily, he smashed right into the cliff face behind him making a person sided hole right before it collapsed in a shower of rubble.
Cull’s relaxed expression melted away, replaced by one of worry. “Are you alive in there?"
"Fuck you,” came a faint whisper from within the ruble making Cull laugh then shiver as memories of his own experience surfaced in his mind's eye.
Cull was just as defiant during his rebellion, and just as helpless. He remembered how Makarov danced around him leaving deep cuts with his enchanted daggers.
Back then, Cull was sure he could win. His gates were opened faster than anyone he'd ever met thanks to his shallow mana pool. His ego had swollen with his strength turning him into someone his current self was embarrassed to have been. He'd needed to be humbled by someone far stronger and now it was Brand's turn to taste bitter defeat.