As soon as its link to a summoner was severed, Bitarr's mind returned to its body. The smoky cloud floated in a lavish room filled with sweet flowers it couldn’t smell, a buffet of food it couldn’t eat, and a bed that could easily fit a dozen people but not an amorphous cloud of divine energy. The room was by far the most richly decorated prison cell in all of Midgard, the several 100 layers of containment runes and spell circles made sure of that.
Bitarr’s smoky body shuddered, its version of a sigh. The aberration wanted more time on the outside. It had been decades since it saw anything outside this room, but Tanya was not strong enough to sustain it for more than a few hours. Its plan to rescue itself was going to be much more difficult than once thought.
“If only I had a god pool to sustain myself with.”
As soon as Bitarr was summoned, it left to find its real body, but it never made it past the outer wall of Prometheus Hall. Even though it still had its divine ability, it was still just a summoning so there was no choice but to stay at Tanya’s side. If it wanted rescuing it would need to convince her first.
If it were a true god with worshipers or a book or two to interpret, things might have been different. The rest of the Aesir didn't have this kind of problem when summoned but, they had more than stories sustaining their godhood; they were worshiped while Bitarr was only feared.
Bitarr felt a great weight leave its body and heard something thump against the ground. It didn't look down. At this point, the monster didn't care for its children.
After several minutes of the baby’s crying. Bitarr decided to look out of boredom more than anything else finding that its newborn daughter was without eye sockets.
“You're a strange one,” Bitarr said. “Not the strangest, so your Da might let you live, but still strange.”
“You can at least call me to pick her off the floor,” said a woman as she walked through Bitarr's cloud picking up the newborn.
“Why do you do this to yourself every time?” Bitarr remarked. “She’ll be gone within the hour.”
The woman was blonde with pale skin and a face even the currently sexless Bitarr could appreciate thanks to her divine beauty. She wore a long loose pink dress that was perfect for her pregnant figure. the gorgeous woman was tattooed from head to toe with the same runes of imprisonment that were etched out across the room. Her eyes were covered with a cloth that Bitarr wished it could remove. There were so many things Aphrodite feared and loved that could easily break out of this prison.
The sounds of bolts being unlatched reverberated through the room almost to the hour like being spoken into existence. Aphrodite hugged the baby tightly like it would makeup never seeing her again. Bitarr just waited for the inevitable like a hundred times before.
The door to their gilded cage opened revealing a middle-aged man in fine gold-laced red robes. With a thin beard, long brown hair, noble features like that of a well-bred king, he was far removed from other demigods born with oddities if not completely monstrous in appearance.
Bitarr changed as the man entered into a tall woman with long red hair nearly reaching the ground dressed in a white vale. She was a goddess, long dead, and forgotten. With a knife aimed at her own throat, she’d freed herself long ago, but her beauty still burned in Gunnar’s mind and he happily forced the form on Bitarr.
A servant with ugly scars craved across his eyes followed Gunnar as he walked up to Aphrodite. The goddess handed the child over with no complaint on her lips but sadness in her eyes.
Gunnar gave the baby a thorough inspection once she was brought to him. “Put a helmet on her and no one will know the difference. Take her to the nursery.” As the servant left with the child, Gunnar walked up to Bitarr lifting her chin with a gentle hand promising violence if disobeyed. “I was starting to think you’d give me nothing but the foulest of monsters out of spite.”
Bitarr growled. “You know a woman cannot choose how her children look at birth.”
“You are no mere woman,” Gunnar whispered into her ear.
He pulled Bitarr to the bed taking up half the room and she followed as to not be dragged by her hair. She spread her legs a moment later accepting her captor's lust to avoid his rage. A broken jaw and missing teeth wouldn't stop him so why bother. Instead, why not let him think he'd won. Let him think she’d given up and that godhood was within his grasp. He’d learn soon enough what happened to those that dared place gods in chains.
When Gunnar finished, he put his robs back on and headed for the door, stopping for a moment to speak. “If you give me a monster next time I'm going to kill it and have Aphrodite eat it in front of you.”
Once Bitarr was finally free of Gunnar’s presence, it released the female form and the feeling of filth lingering within. A marble-sized ball of darkness was now within its smoky cloud. Within five to nine months, that ball would be a newborn child. It didn't make much sense, but gods and their children rarely did.
Whether the child be a monster or paragon of perfection, Bitarr didn't know, but it hoped Aphrodite would not be forced to eat the child. The only thing it could do for her was to take the brunt of Gunner’s lust shedding the shame of it as he left the room.
****
Tanya woke to someone repeatedly tapping her face. She opened her eyes finding Brand kneeling beside her trying to rouse her from sleep.
“Get up. It's time for our lessons,” he said.
Tanya sat up slowly and looked to Brand's right hand. He brought it behind his back hiding it from her view. “It's better if you don't see it,” he said looking away.
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Tanya's tears came back in full force as she blamed herself for his maiming.
“Oh shit! I was joking! I was joking!” Brand quickly shouted.
He extended his right hand to her face, revealing that it had been covered by his long-sleeved shirt. Her sadness turned to anger as she wiped her face clean.
“That was not funny!” She then gently held Brand’s new hand that had a lighter complexion than the rest of his body.
“Is it weird that I liked the old one better?” he joked.
“I'm sorry,” Tanya said, her words shaking. “This is all my fault.”
“Tanya, I won't blame you. Well, as long as you tell me who the hells those people were.”
Tanya nodded her head hoping that Brand wouldn't hate her after hearing what she had to say. “The girl's name is Mildrith. She's an A-ranked mage.”
“What do you mean by A ranked?”
“Magi don't rank themselves on the gates they open like we do. They are ranked on how deep their mana pool is from E-rank where most cultivators start to D, C, B, A, and S. If I were studying to be a mage, I’d be B ranked and would become A ranked upon reaching the maybe the fourth gate. Mildrith was born with A-ranked mana.”
"I'm probably E-ranked, aren't I?" Brand asked.
"Actually," Tanya said hesitantly. "by the way mana pools are measure I'd say you're lower than E-rank if a rank that low exists."
“Well shit," Brand said with a shrug. "It's not like I was ever going to be a mage. But," he said a question blooming in his eyes. "If a mage is A-ranked, how high a cultivation rank would I need to be on equal grounds with them?”
“It's not that simple,” Tanya explained. “Not every A-ranked mage or high-level cultivator can be considered on the same level. Everyone in our class has at least opened their first gate but you and I could easily defeat a lot of them. The same goes for the mage ranks, especially when it comes to a focus augmenting their power.”
Brand gave a laugh full of bravado. “Then it’s a good thing I opened my second gate yesterday.”
“At least something good came out of this,” Tanya murmured.
Brand couldn’t help but let a bit of anger slide into his next words. “Would that girl be as strong as the guy who broke my hand?”
Tanya shook her head “No. Aldhelm is a fifth-ranked cultivator and a summoner like me. Mildrith would stand no chance against him even if she made it to the S rank.”
“A summoner,” Brand said questioningly. “Wait, a fifth rank cultivator! No wonder he turned my hand to jelly.” He paused for a moment then looked to Tanya with a raised eyebrow. “If he's a summoner then doesn't that make him your-.”
“He's my brother. They’re both my siblings,” Tanya said with a bit of hesitation.
Brand took a long moment of reflection before speaking, what she told him meant so much more than she realized. “Tanya,” he said reverently. “Your sister is really, fucking, hot.”
Confusion appeared on Tanya's face. She was not entirely sure she’d heard Brand correctly.
“I mean, I knew you were going to be a fair little lady,” Brand continued. “But now I can't wait to see what kind of assets you grow!”
Tanya squealed as Brand then groped the air in front of her chest suggestively. She picked up a table ornament throwing it at him without thinking. Brand dove to the side laughing all the while.
“Pervert!” Tanya accused.
“All men are,” Brand assured her. “Now let's go, we're already late for class and I might get to see that sister of yours on the way.”
Tanya picked up the entire table this time throwing it at Brand while he danced around the room laughing uncontrollably.
****
Brand’s sword chipped away as Dagfinn bit into it with his own. The dulled blades were made to be equal in weight and strength, but Brand couldn't keep his imbued with enough power to fend off anyone’s attacks without breaking after a few blows. The same went for his armor and shield that had large pieces missing or dented.
Brand itched to throttle his mana but Elof wanted to see everyone's ability to empower objects in a fight which of course, with his lack of mana, made him terrible at it.
Dagfinn pressed his advance forward. Even as Brand landed glancing blows, his armor only received light scratched. With a shield bash, Brand was sent sliding to the edge of the ring.
“Fuck this!” he shouted as he stopped sending mana into his armor and focused only on his sword.
As Dagfinn came in for victory, Brand thrust forward managing to get behind his shield defense. He put all the manna he could into the practice blade then purposefully made it go out of control causing the blade to shatter violently.
Dagfinn was pelted by chunks of metal but they were unable to pierce the armor he wore. The resulting explosion did send him back to his side of the ring but not nearly far enough to win Brand the match.
Before Dagfinn could advance on Brand again, he unbuckled his shield imbuing it with the last of his mana and threw it. The shield exploded maybe a foot before reaching Dagfinn sending him sprawling out of the ring.
“You both pass,” Elof declared. “But Brand, what would you have done if that shield throw didn’t work?”
“I don't really know,” Brand said panting. “It's not like this imbuing armor shit works for me anyway.”
“True,” Elof agreed. “You just best use a shield and one-handed weapon. Dagfinn on the other hand did excellently.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied, fingering chunks of metal out of his borrowed armor.
Others waited for Elof to call on them to fight but he just shook his head. “That's all for today. No one else is ready for the more challenging mysteries.”
There was some protest but most of the students stayed quiet. They’d come to consider the ones that passed the last series of tests the standard needed to move on. It wasn’t true of course. People like Brand, Tanya, Cora, and Dagfinn didn’t come along often. Most were like Godric and Marla who passed but we're not nearly as competent as the rest.
Elof cleared his throat loudly. “The next combat mysteries will incorporate all the magic you can use. If you haven't satisfied Merwyn then you will have to wait to go farther in the hall.”
Brand smiled knowing that within a day the kid gloves would be coming off. He would pass whatever Merwyn had planned and start learning real combat. His mind went back to the several times Azmina came back to their room with freshly healed wounds. If she and Rohaan couldn’t handle those mysteries it must be where he would find real strength and finally secure his position in their household.
Brand couldn’t help but smile thinking to himself. “And those with strength are those with freedom.”
Dagfinn let out a sigh of relief. “I didn't think I'd make it there for a second.”
Brand's eyes visibly rolled. “Don't give me that. You may have your own reasons for holding back but don't think I can't see through you.” Dagfinn looked at Brand questioningly as if he didn’t understand what he meant. Brand lowered his voice so no one else would hear him. “Holding back against weaker opponents is something I used to do professionally. Surprisingly, you're better at it. Took me a while to figure out but you never let me strike your nose or groin or anywhere that would hurt just a little too much, same goes for Cora.”
“Is that a problem?” Dagfinn asked quietly while keeping his voice flat.
“No,” Brand answered. “I'll catch up to you soon enough and make you get serious.”
Dagfinn’s eyes went to Cora’s for just a moment then back to Brands. “You know sometimes, I think you're just obsessed with fighting, like it gives you some strange pleasure.”
“I just like being the strongest guy in the room,” Brand said. “If you're not you can't do what you want.”
“And what do you want to do.”
“I don't really know. I'll tell you when I can do it without consequences.”