While the new crew busied themselves refitting the Azure Kraken and redistributing what few supplies remained, Ery secluded himself in the captain’s chamber. His attention was fixed on Brollak, the towering grand magus who now stood obediently before him.
Ery worked in utter silence, his hands weaving through the void, tracing glowing threads of soul-binding energy. Each rune shimred like molten silver, etched into the very fabric of the chamber. With a decisive flick of his fingers, the symbols shot forward and pressed themselves against Brollak’s forehead, burning into his skin as they began to fuse.
The muscular man trembled. His jaw clenched, veins bulged along his neck, and sweat rolled down his temples as the runes etched themselves deeper. They pulsed and crawled, engraving their patterns not on flesh alone, but upon his soul.
After an hour, Ery finally let out a slow breath, satisfaction flickering across his expression. The first stage was complete. Without hesitation, he moved on to the second stage. He made a subtle gesture and, after so effort, opened his mouth. A bead of scarlet erged, dense with vitality.
Blood essence.
Unlike common blood, this was the distilled core of life itself, a treasure within every magus. It was sotis drawn for forbidden techniques or the refining of artifacts, but at a terrible cost—shortening the wielder’s lifespan. Only Grand Magus, with their cosmic bodies, could replenish such a loss in ti.
The droplet hovered in the air, crimson with a faint sapphire sheen, radiating with Ery’s life force. He guided it toward the glowing circle of runes on Brollak’s brow. The mont blood touched the sigil, it ignited in a dazzling flare. The symbols seared brighter, forming a tether—an invisible bridge of blood and spirit, binding the two together.
This technique was called [Blood Branding], a ritual Ery had torn from the barbarian priestesses of Tartarus Realm. He had tested it many tis to enslave beasts, but never on a human. Now, he finally had his chance.
Patiently, relentlessly, Ery pressed his will into Brollak’s core. The Grand Magus did not resist, though his soul still strained against the intrusion.
To carve the brand was no simple act—it required hours of unbroken concentration, a constant grind of power, intent, and blood-fed runes. At last, when the final sigil sank into place, Ery felt the tether snap taut.
A faint smile curved his lips."It is done."
The bond pulsed between them like a chain of iron and fire. With Blood Branding, Brollak retained his will and his autonomy, but Ery’s authority coiled beneath it all. With a single thought, Ery could peer into fragnts of the man’s intent—or twist his actions with irresistible force. Defiance would bring agony that raked through body and soul. Continued rebellion could an death.
To escape the brand would be almost impossible. Perhaps a Spirit Champion might sever it—or Brollak himself would need to break through to a higher realm and surpass Ery’s soul. Ery doubted either would ever co to pass.
After making a final probe of the bond, Ery leaned back, satisfied. Compared to Mo Yan’s infamous soul enslavent technique, this thod was far more balanced. Though [Blood Branding] demanded the sacrifice of blood essence, the toll on his soul was negligible. His body could recover the lost vitality in a matter of weeks. Mo Yan’s thod, on the other hand, carved pieces of the caster’s soul permanently, growing heavier with each subject enslaved.
Yes, Mo Yan’s technique produced stronger restrictions, turning his victims into an army of puppets. But Ery had no desire for such lifeless followers. He preferred n who retained their own individuality. In that regard, Blood Branding was perfect.
As the final glow faded and the chamber fell quiet, Ery’s breath steadied.
Brollak lowered his head, silently acknowledging the bond.
To the muscular Grand Magus’ surprise, Ery reached into his spatial domain and withdrew several gleaming artifacts. One by one, they shimred into the dim chamber: a war hamr forged to channel earthshaking power, a broad shield inscribed with runes of resilience, and a helm that shimred faintly with protective wards for the mind.
Though they were only low-grade tier 6 artifacts, Brollak’s eyes lit with undisguised joy. For a faction-backed Grand Magus, such items might be common tools. But for a wandering rogue grand magus like him, even a single piece was priceless.
These were so of the spoils Ery had claid from Kronos’ vaults. He had little personal use for them, but in Brollak’s hands, they beca an investnt. Ard with steel and bound by blood, the Grand Magus could serve as a far more formidable ally. And with the brand seared into his soul, Ery no longer needed to guard against betrayal.
While Brollak reveled in his newfound treasures, Ery added an extra gesture.
"As I said before, serve for thirty years. After that, I will remove the brand and grant you freedom. However, if your performance falls below my expectations, I will not hesitate to be ruthless."
Thirty years was a short span for a figure in the Grand Magus realm. The promise of freedom, balanced with an intimidating threat, ensured that Ery had secured himself a Grand Magus follower.
With that matter settled, it was finally ti to decide what to do with the fleet.
His plan had been simple: form a crew, take the Azure Kraken, and leave the refugee fleet behind. He had no intention of wasting days escorting thousands of souls across the stars. But for that, he felt responsible for choosing soone to take command of the remaining ships.
Varrek then presented Ery with the detailed crew manifest of the fleet for him to study. Among the nas, he pointed out one particular group they had taken in only recently.
"They are Magus Alliance military.. But they are deserters," he explained cautiously.
Leaving these refugees to the magus alliance official will be ideal, but not deserters; they were simply criminals. It might be best to leave the fleets to the Nebula carriers’ previous captain instead.
However, as he scanned the nas, a faint glint of recognition flickered across his face, followed by the curve of a smile. There was soone among them whom he knew.
"Why are they deserters?" he muttered softly.
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