As a retro 2076 Paradox Interactive player, it was impossible for Al not to have some military and conquest fantasies in his heart.
So the first thing he planned after gaining subordinates was to reorganize the Pina forces.
Command structure, squads, platoons, companies, battalions, upper, middle, lower ranks and so on.
Shaman priests would be assigned at the squad level!
Then reality poured a bucket of cold water on him, extinguishing his unrealistic enthusiasm.
The Shepherd believers were somewhat manageable—at least they could remember who was in which squad and who the squad leader was. The Chaos beastmen were hopeless. They were a chaotic mess. Every time Al tried to make them quiet down and follow orders, they would stay obedient for a short while before quickly reverting to their old ways.
They also seemed to lack any concept of "comrades." Companions and believers were simply guys who could help kill enemies or block attacks for them.
Even after Al tried several times to instill a little "obey commands" into the Chaos beastmen instead of just "obey the Beastlord—when the Beastlord says charge, we Waaagh; when he says retreat, we scatter like the wind" gangster mentality.
Gangsters at least had some coordination when fighting, even if they lacked the beastmen's bloodthirstiness.
Some Chaos beastmen even forgot the Beastlord's authority because of the repeated, tedious orders and bared their teeth or roared in dissatisfaction at Al.
Those with less functional brains were usually hacked to death by the rage-tainted beasts or smashed into meat patties by Alina.
Then Al continued his futile efforts.
In the end he barely managed to give the beastmen—especially the Chaos beastmen—a slight sense of a horde: charge together Waaagh, retreat together Waaagh.
Finally, it was time for the lottery segment.
What was the point of getting a golden finger if he didn't immediately convert it into combat power?
Al ordered the beastmen to center around him and pile up the corpses of both sides—yes, corpses could also serve as offerings.
Aside from respecting the feelings of the Shepherd beastmen and rage-tainted beasts as his direct lineage, he stacked human and Chaos beastmen corpses together, forming an eight-pointed star array that clearly reeked of Chaos.
Although it was somewhat evil and inhumane, to maximize the combat strength of this battered remnant army, Al also had the beastmen strip as many weapons and armor from the fallen imperial troops as possible. Those who could wear it did; those who couldn't forced it on anyway. Anything was better than leather and fur—iron shells offered higher defense.
Al squatted down and pressed his palm to the ground. A Chaos eight-pointed star mark floated up from the soil.
"I'm ready… Mommy."
Al murmured, pressing his other hand to his chest.
A pitch-black rift appeared without warning above Al.
On the other side was deep darkness that swallowed all light.
A massive suction force suddenly erupted from it. Yet Al beneath the rift remained completely unaffected. The surrounding sacrificial corpses and damaged, unusable armor and weapons continuously vanished from the mortal world, sent into the Realm of Chaos.
On that side, even death brought no peace.
Once the offerings were completely devoured, the rift seemed to have eaten its fill like a glutton. It closed its bottomless-abyss mouth.
Just when Al thought the ritual was over—or that his offerings weren't enough to meet the exchange standard—
The rift suddenly widened violently and spat out a storm of breath carrying a terrifying, thick metallic stench of blood!
Roars, howls, and furious shouts were mixed within, as if countless enraged, scorching souls poured into the mortal world together. The breath turned into a restless gale that swept across the entire field.
The first to receive this blessing was the centaur girl.
She held her warhammer reversed, bent all four limbs, and lowered her head to the blessing from the Bloodmother.
Chaos power surged into the centaur, healing and strengthening her scarred body, coating it with a reddish metallic sheen. The breath dispelled her fatigue and poured even greater power into her.
The second group to feel the influence of the Winds of Chaos were the rage-tainted beasts. These creatures who forever hovered on the edge of rage plunged their greatswords into the ground and knelt on one knee toward Al.
The Winds of Chaos healed their wounds, strengthened their blades, and forcibly enlarged and empowered their bodies. Bulging muscles and protruding horn spikes now contained far greater power than before.
From among the Chaos beastmen, several individuals also stepped forward, affected by this power. Their skin began turning red, horns grew on their heads and bodies, and faint Bloodmother marks appeared on their foreheads.
These beastmen transforming into rage-tainted beasts walked behind their predecessors, imitating their posture as they lowered their heads and knelt on one knee toward Al.
Some beastmen who had fought fiercely during the day—whether Shepherd believers or Chaos followers—underwent subtle changes under the rift's gaze. It was as if a crimson sun burned in the void, scorching their minds, whipping and inspiring them to fight.
Offer victory to the Black Throne, and glory shall descend upon you.
What Black Throne?
Many beastmen's limited intelligence couldn't understand it, but they could instinctively sense: a great existence in the void was watching this forest. In Its name they would swing their blades. In this bloody battle, every victory would receive the promised blessing.
"Blessed by the Bloodmother!"
Alina stood up. In all her past days she had never felt her power as vast as today. The last time she had felt such a mighty blessing was when she defeated that Bretonnian knight, yet even that was far inferior to now.
"Blessed by the Bloodmother!"
The rage-tainted beasts straightened up. They were now a full head taller than before. They pulled out their greatswords and roared fanatically, calling the Bloodmother's divine name.
"Blessed by the Bloodmother…"
One Shepherd believer muttered along. His companion fearfully covered his mouth.
Al stood in place, neck raised, staring at the rift with wide eyes.
What about me?
I haven't received any blessing yet!
The rift shattered like glass. The Winds of Chaos abruptly stopped.
Al instinctively covered his head and crouched defensively, only to realize the fragments had vanished into thin air and had no physical form.
A roar came from the periphery. Al looked up, forgetting his disappointment.
That minotaur suddenly went berserk, smashing through the herd and charging straight toward the field—straight toward him.
Al already had a plan for this kind of thing. He nimbly got up and ran toward the centaur girl, only to discover the minotaur wasn't here to assassinate the king. It was clutching a human swordsman who still seemed to be breathing. In three strides it lunged to a spot a few meters away from Al and thudded to its knees.
Its massive arm raised the still-living human high.
"Ah!"
After a blood-curdling scream and the sound of tearing flesh, the minotaur ripped the swordsman in half. Guts and blood cascaded down like a waterfall, smashing onto its head and neck, dyeing the huge creature into a blood beast.
Then it pushed the two halves forward and heavily knocked its head against the ground.
It was showing submission to Al standing beside the centaur girl and offering the meat for him to enjoy.
Its horns had become sharp and hard. The Bloodmother's mark had appeared on the skin above its head. Its entire body radiated a furious, violent aura.
This was already a sign of atavism—or returning to Chaos's embrace.
"Good… good."
Al endured the psychological nausea, carefully avoided the scattered guts and flesh, and walked in front of the minotaur. He stroked its head.
Being a commander wasn't bad. He could already accept scenes of corpses littering the ground and severed limbs, but personally creating them was still somewhat difficult.
The last trace of the Winds of Chaos seemed to have entered this minotaur's body. It should probably be called a minotaur lord now?
Win battles, earn the Bloodmother's blessings!
Al felt pretty good. At least it looked much better than the previous battered remnants. It was basically reinforcement plus strengthening.
Next came the march.
Although it was already night, for the beastman race the forest was home.
Would marching at night run into undead?
Then small red dots appeared around Al's forces on the map.
He immediately became alert and ordered some beastmen vanguard to make contact.
A sparse rain of arrows flew out from the forest. Fortunately, with prior preparation, there were no serious casualties.
Fuck, do they think we're not woodland natives?
Ambushing me in the forest?
The more Al thought about it, the more wrong it felt. He was the beastman here. The other side wasn't even led by Markus (the Empire's legendary huntsman general, famous for shooting a beastman legendary hero, the Bronze Bull, through the jaw with one arrow).
Getting sneaked up on by hunters twice!
No more tactics—just charge! Everyone charge out!
With the map's help, Al could see enemy markers within the alert range. By concentrating he could also transmit simple orders to the beastmen ahead—roughly equivalent to high-ping latency in Warcraft or StarCraft.
Soon this unlucky group of hunters who had run into Al's forces were either killed or driven off, vanishing into the vast Pina Forest. The beastmen looted equipment from the corpses and withdrew.
The road was clear! Completely unobstructed!
Al discovered that after spreading the troops out, their marching speed actually increased. Everyone moved at their own pace. Most stragglers would catch up on their own. The Revelers tribe's location wasn't too deep, and as a race naturally adapted to woodland bonuses, there was no non-combat attrition in this situation.
After realizing this, Al recognized his mistake. He couldn't simply apply things from his own head to this world. If he did, he would never have let the centaur girl go into battle without any protection besides two-hundred-pound heavy armor.
That's right—beastmen should just nomad!
In the end form an entire army of giant beasts, ambush and raid. Maybe they could even decapitate Archaon and end the End Times.
Knowing how unrealistic that was, Al was still happy that he seemed to have found his faction's advantage.
Beastmen—wildness plus beastly nature!
Boar charge!
Hadn't some famous military thinker from the last century said: Throughout history, the pig tactic has been successfully employed time and again.
Al couldn't remember exactly who.
The Pina Forest at night, at least this edge area, held no great dangers for beastmen. They themselves were the main predators in the region.
Under the cover of shadows they marched quickly, occasionally letting out heart-chilling beast howls as they shuttled through the dense woods and crossed hills.
The Shepherd believers brought Thar's bee swarms. These little insects would lead them to Thar's location.
Standing on a hill and looking into the distance, they could faintly see dots of firelight on the horizon.
That tribe where Al had only stayed for a day and a half—at best it was just a "place to live," still far from the concept of "home." Yet he still felt a bitter pain in his heart, as if something had been invaded and destroyed.
"Empire…"
Al's eyes glowed with a crimson divine light in the darkness. He himself didn't notice, but the beastmen passing by him didn't dare look directly at the Godson's terrifying pupils.
Just one glance would ignite seemingly endless rage, making them want to hack and slash immediately, to ravage mountain peaks.
The cold night wind blew, bringing clarity. Al's mind kept thinking.
They couldn't clash head-on with the imperial army. They should use terrain advantage and speed, ideally lure them deeper and destroy them unit by unit.
Those experienced, sharp-intuited hunters were the main threat and had to be dealt with first.
Form ranged units using bows, poison the arrowheads, and try to create large numbers of wounded to damage enemy morale.
In the past the wild beastmen's advantage had been various monsters, but after Chaos receded even the man-eating minotaurs had started farming. That advantage had been greatly weakened, and their numbers were inferior to the imperial army. Currently the only two advantages they could use were probably terrain advantage in woodland combat and racial bonuses.
Second was having a powerful Chosen like Alina leading them.
Time passed quickly. The unease lingering in Al's heart grew closer. He felt the road ahead would definitely not be smooth, and might even lead to the worst outcome:
Thar and the others had already been caught and annihilated by the imperial army. If they charged over they would walk straight into a human encirclement.
Ambush, encirclement, heaven-shaking battle cries.
Our army is defeated!
The big red "Defeat" seemed to hang in the sky alongside the Chaos Moon, staring down at Al. On Morrslieb's surface the ominous mocking smile appeared once again.
A thick bloody smell slowly spread through the air. Al sniffed and felt a wave of refreshment.
"The Bloodmother is watching over us."
The centaur girl sensed Al's unease and spoke.
"The Mad Mother is above. The victory in this war belongs to us."
Al gently stroked the spot on Alina's back where the wound had already healed, leaving only a faint scar. "I hope so."
"Then…"
He took a deep breath.
"Blood for the Bloodmother, skulls for the Skull Throne."
Al lowered his head and prayed to the Bloodmother.
In the Realm of Chaos, the world of the Black Throne.
Countless warriors who had been dueling and slaughtering to their hearts' content under Khorne's gaze suddenly stopped their blades. They had heard the war roar from the supreme master of the Throne. That sound instantly destroyed several weak sub-realms attached outside Khorne's domain, erasing the creatures inside along with them from the Realm of Chaos.
When the Blood God's warriors had finished arming themselves and were about to march out in the Bloodmother's name, the master of the Throne fell silent again, then quietly looked down upon the mortal world.
So the warriors turned their spears once more and continued slaughtering and dueling under the Bloodmother's gaze, striving for favor. Such battles happened countless times every moment, and the duration had long since become uncountable.
This was the blood war of the Realm of Chaos—far more brutal than even the bloodiest battlefield in the mortal world. The Stern Mother was gentler than Khorne, but she would not tolerate continuous cowardice and failure.
Al was facing his first battle after rebirth. He could vaguely sense that the three gods, and the last one who had not yet appeared—the counterpart to Grandfather Nurgle, the "Loving Mother"—were all watching him to varying degrees.
This was his first battle as the Eternal Champion, having received the Four Gods' blessings. It was not only a military matter, but also a political one.
He had to fight, had to win, and had to win beautifully.
Difficult.