On the assembly ground that had been relocated to another clearing and expanded to nearly twice its previous size.
An entire formation of beastmen with blood-red skin and ferocious horns stood in strict ranks.
"Who goes there!"
Unlike the rage-tainted beasts, the slender figures covered in blue feathers — more bird-like in form — the All-Knowing One's faithful: the Wisdom-Tainted Beasts, stood on the high platform holding thick scriptures bound with beast hide and tree bark. Behind them stood two lines of the strongest, most majestic, and most devout rage-tainted vanguard.
"To the tribe, to the beastmen, we bring new life!"
It roared hoarsely.
"It is Al!"
Below the platform, the rage-tainted beasts and blood-red beastmen erupted in fervent shouts.
The wisdom-tainted beast used its bird-claw-like fingers to trace across the scripture. The strange, crooked symbols on it gave even Al a headache, but they seemed to understand the meaning naturally.
"By the grace of the Four Mothers, on the day of the tribe's greatest despair, They sent down Their son — the Eternal Champion, the destined savior, the gospel of the beastmen!"
"Into the forest, to save the tribe and keep the hundred beasts alive!"
All the beastmen below the platform roared in unison:
"Mother Goddess~ Ura!"
"Al~ Ura!"
"Ura!" "Ura!" "Ura!"
Today's drill was declared over.
Al climbed up the watchtower, letting his legs dangle and swing outside. Goat Mom stood behind him, gently smoothing his hair. After the explosive growth phase right after his birth, Al's development had slowed down considerably once he reached the sixteen-to-seventeen-year-old stage.
However, every aspect of Al's physical abilities was extremely powerful. He was full of energy and rarely felt fatigue. But since Al did not personally lead charges on the battlefield, his strong teenage body currently had no other use except for pounding.
The legion was dismissed. Those without families returned to barracks; those with families went home. Ever since Al discovered that the extremely rare wisdom-tainted beasts that had appeared in the tribe had suddenly gathered together and begun compiling a thick scripture centered on him and the New Four Gods, he realized that the biggest weakness of his legion could finally be filled.
Intelligence.
After praying to the All-Knowing One several times until she finally gave an annoyed but clear reply that yes, it was her doing, Al felt at ease letting the wisdom-tainted beasts compile and spread their version of the Otherworld Four Gods Bible 2.0.
The Eternal Champion himself inevitably provided guidance.
For example, adding lines like "The Four Mothers created the world and I was present," or "I am responsible for the End Times (next time he really will be)."
Al treated these wisdom-tainted beasts as potential staff officers and combat chaplains.
They were also responsible for educating the beastmen, whose average intelligence was still slightly lower than humans. Even after believing in the Bloodmother, although they were no longer filled with nothing but fighting and killing like the old K-party, their intellect was still heavily influenced by emotion.
Scripture… scripture could also count as enlightenment reading!
Whether wisdom had actually improved was hard to observe in the short term, but at least loyalty and understanding of loyalty had increased significantly.
For example,
Previously they only knew "Blood for the Bloodmother, charge for the boss!"
As for why they should charge for the boss or offer blood to the Bloodmother, ten beastmen couldn't give one complete sentence.
Now they could at least understand: because Al is the Four Gods' own son, sent to the mortal world to save the beastmen, blah blah blah;
In the past the beastmen faced hanging upside down in crisis, the tribe faced the danger of collapse. Fortunately Heaven did not abandon Chaos. The Eternal Champion emerged from Pina, ascended to great rule… wielding a three-foot sword, sweeping the world, blah blah blah;
Wear Al's clothes! Eat Al's food!
Fight for the Chosen on the battlefield!
Loyalty!
Too loyal!
In one stroke, the tribe gained a Crusader (eight-pointed star) and simple tribal-love buff.
Al found it weird, but he was still quite satisfied.
As long as combat power and loyalty increased, it was fine.
Over these past few months, he had led the remnants of the Revelers tribe deep into the Pina Forest and could now claim "braving frost and dew, cutting through thorns and brambles, to possess a piece of land."
The population had grown from less than a thousand when they entered the forest. Through continuous periodic captures of Chaos beastmen, clearing surrounding threats, and converting the population, it had now reached five thousand.
There were still over three thousand unconverted Chaos beastman slaves locked in the pens.
In the past, eight thousand beastmen would already count as a fairly large warband. Although it couldn't compare to those infamous Beastlord tribes whose names could stop children from crying, it was already a force that could not be ignored.
Moreover, Al's tribe was not like the old warbands — chaotic mobs held together only by the Beastlord's martial might and a Bray-Shaman.
They had sustainable forest farms and pastures producing supplies, growing mushrooms, wild vegetables, and fast-growing edible plants. There were workshops where carefully selected clever beastmen learned to repair and forge weapons.
Al had even established a tribal primary school for education.
All beastmen cubs had to come here to systematically learn knowledge and experience, and from a young age receive indoctrination about the New Four Gods, with Al occasionally visiting to give guidance in person.
He had fulfilled his dream of being a teacher for once…
Al's tribe now had logistics, support, and a complete, self-sufficient, sustainable tribal system. Of course, the most important part was still military strength:
The fully Bloodmother-worshipping Crimson Vanguard Legion, consisting of one thousand four hundred and eight warriors, formed the main force under Al. They were divided into sixteen eighty-eight-man small warbands. Each warband was split into eight eight-man squads and one twenty-four-man company. Each squad had a red-maned captain, three squads formed one crimson-horn leader, and each warband was commanded by a rage-tainted vanguard commander.
Al really wanted to complain about this obsessive multiple-of-eight ratio, but including Alina, all Bloodmother believers had a firm belief in this sacred number.
Al could have forced his own system, but to avoid damaging morale, and since the current organization had shown no obvious flaws in battle, he temporarily gave up.
He had a feeling that future expansions would still follow multiples of eight…
One hundred and twenty-three trolls — river trolls, stone trolls, forest trolls — formed the troll legion, commanded by the river troll chieftain that Al had jokingly named River Shuhan.
Calling it "command" wasn't entirely accurate. In the end, Al still gave mental commands to the troll chieftain, who then roared and bellowed to drive its slow, dull kin onto the front line.
These strong but clumsy monsters had, through continuous taming and the call of Chaos, gained slightly more brain capacity than their primitive relatives. Their intelligence had improved a little.
Speaking of which, trolls had extremely strong vitality and adaptability. Over long periods in any environment, their forms would change.
The majority of the troll legion were river trolls formed by long exposure to swamps — and there were many swamps in the Pina Forest — along with rivers and other watery environments. Their characteristics included underwater combat (obviously) and skin that secreted slippery, corrosive mucus.
Places they stayed in for long periods seemed to be affected, beginning to turn into swampy mud, like the fence where the river trolls had first been kept.
And their powerful stomach acid.
There were also tougher and stronger stone trolls, ordinary trolls whose only notable traits were stench, regeneration, and raw strength, forest trolls covered in vines and moss that looked like walking giant potted plants, and various other strange subspecies.
Al felt like he was playing a collection game. Maybe in the future he could build a monster park?
Notably, he had discovered a new use for trolls:
Cracking bones and sucking marrow.
Sustainable, in the literal physical sense.
Of course it wasn't that exaggerated, and ordinary beastmen usually couldn't stomach troll marrow. It was something else.
"Stomach acid."
From Al's memory, this stuff could kill a fully armored warrior with a single spray.
It also left a long-lasting stench. Al had specifically chosen a few dead river trolls to skin — only they were large enough to hold the stuff vomited from their stomachs — then dragged a few live river trolls into a small dark room and forced them to keep vomiting up their gastric acid.
It was disgusting.
After succeeding, he never wanted to go back to that place again.
The smell was even more piercing than their body odor. For any intelligent race with normal sense of smell, it was pure torture.
The plan had nearly been abandoned because no beastman could endure the continuous piercing stench and the corrosive, burning sensation in the air to handle the stuff.
Al envisioned using this as crude stomach-acid bombs in the future:
A group of four-to-five-meter-tall monsters would hurl a wave of bombs before engaging, delivering ranged, explosive, corrosive, and foul-smelling damage all at once, then charge.
Troll grenadiers!
There were also two giants.
The kind descended from the Sky Titans of legend.
In the Warhammer background, they had almost become pure background fodder for combat power, just like the famous Khorne Greater Daemon Skarbrand.
To describe how powerful someone was, people would say: strength to rival a giant, tore a giant apart, subdued a giant, killed a giant…
A beastmen scout squad on patrol had accidentally encountered these two giants — one large, one small — wandering aimlessly through the forest. They looked like a father taking his son for a walk, simply smashing and crushing everything in their path.
The first scout who bravely stepped out of hiding might have been driven by a burning challenger's heart and the pursuit of glory, but he clearly bet correctly.
Or rather, the giants had already eaten their fill.
The large giant did not attack the beastmen scouts. Instead, it was attracted by the food they offered and followed them into the woods.
Then the centaur girl — the first Chosen of the Bloodmother in the mortal world, whom the tribe called "the son of thunder and fire born from a volcano split by lightning in an erupting flood" — walked out carrying her giant hammer.
The giant got angry and attacked!
The giant was hammered down!
Then came the standard procedure of first the stick, then the carrot. Al appeared, using the aura of the Eternal Champion's blessing combined with the natural affinity between giants and beastmen, and both the large and small giants settled down with the tribe.
They were currently the only two giant beast units in the entire tribe.
Al had also discovered an entirely new species that wasn't in his memories.
Goblins.
At first glance he had thought they were goblins, but after careful study he found they were different from the goblins he remembered.
Although these goblins, like greenskins, had no reproductive organs and reproduced by a spore-like method — excreting a spore-laden mucus from their bodies, peeling back tree bark, smearing it on, then gently closing the bark again. After a few days, an embryo would swell in that spot, drawing nutrients from the tree and maturing to drop in three days to a week. One litter usually produced two to three goblins.
Al had given them this name. Based on their tree-birth method, they could perhaps be called wood spirits?
But fearing that full squads of Waystalkers would come drilling into the Pina Forest looking for the Chosen, Al still named them goblins.
If they were a bit more greenskin-like, they could be called "not-greens" or "not-bad"?
This seemed to be an entirely new species. At least no one in Al's tribe had any memory of them. The beastmen treated them as something similar to goblins, while after long observation Al found that their temperament was somewhat gentler than those similarly green suspected distant relatives?
They liked green plants, lived in tree hollows, and had high tolerance for dirty things including beastmen feces and troll stomach acid. They even enjoyed collecting such things.
After discovering them, Al continued exploring and found that within the surrounding area there seemed to be only this one isolated tribe. He brought all of them back. These creatures were very docile and seemed naturally suited for domestication.
They had strong talent in planting and were skilled at mixing all kinds of strange things into fertilizer-like substances to increase crop yield and growth. Al simply assigned some beastmen to lead this group of goblins in charge of the tribe's sanitation. They didn't mind dirt or stench, collected waste, and turned it directly into fertilizer.
Apart from being ugly, they were practically perfect servant creatures.
Their numbers were quite small — only a little over three hundred. Although their reproduction method was simple, it seemed not every tree could nurture goblin embryos. It required the tree to reach a certain age and nutritional level, and the goblins themselves secreted spore mucus very slowly, needing several months to refill.
The advantage was that Al didn't have to worry about these little things multiplying out of control and becoming another Green Tide disaster.
Speaking of which, the sight of goblins riding on troll heads and throwing stomach-acid bombs always made him think of a certain ancient tower-defense game.
Plants vs…
Even other troop types could use the stuff. It just didn't look or smell very nice. In the future Al's army would march accompanied by a thick stench, making it look like a Nurgle plague host… Fat Grandpa would definitely be very happy.
But the Bloodmother would not.
After careful review, the biggest drawback was the lack of long-range striking power, but Al had no solution. After believing in the Bloodmother, the beastmen's mastery of melee weapons had improved rapidly, but bows and crossbows…
Have you ever seen a Khorne vanguard using bow weapons?
No? Exactly. The same went for Bloodmother vanguards.
Al had initially thought this was wrong and that they needed to keep up with the times. After thinking carefully, he realized that in the Warhammer world, if you wanted to compete in ranged combat…
Far away there were Cathayan dragon crossbows. Closer there were Wood Elf Waystalkers whose arrows never missed, High Elf Avelorn archers with enchanted exploding arrows, Dark Elf armor-piercing crossbows, Imperial gun lines executing by firing squad…
And Dwarfs from crossbows to cannons.
With Al's tribe's current level, long-range damage could only manage blow darts and slings.
It was better to have the whole army pray to the Bloodmother for protection before battle so arrows would not hit.
So they might as well just form up and charge forward. What kind of social route was a monster faction trying to take?
Just Waaaaagh straight at them!
Excluding the situation where Chaos directly cheated by spawning troops, which beastman tribe could develop this fast from nothing?
Al was starting to get a bit inflated.
"To win the End Times, one must first gather the beastmen. To gather the beastmen, one must first conquer Pina!"
That didn't sound quite right.
"Today the world is divided in two: Order and Chaos. The Empire of Order, High Elves, their blades are sharp and flourishing. The Supreme Commander of Destruction watches covetously. These two truly cannot be challenged directly!"
"The southwest is exhausted, yet rich in heroes and spirits, without a strong lord in control — perfect for the Chosen to take! Build up strength, unite the beasts, sweep the Southern Kingdoms, ally with the High Elves in the west and befriend them; push north to Bretonnia, blunt their spears. Although the Empire is large, its reach is limited. The Southern Kingdoms can all be taken!"
"When the End Times come, send a great general leading the army out of Black Fire Pass, marching north to resist Chaos, following Vlad's example. If we win, great merit in saving the world. If we lose, we still have the Southern Kingdoms as a retreat. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
Such a perfect blueprint was almost unfolding before Al's eyes, when unexpected news arrived.
"What is the disturbance?"
Al heard movement outside the tent and got up to check.
A shit-green goblin whelp was being carried by a wolfman scout who rushed to the tent and set him down in front of the rage-tainted beast guards.
"Great-great-great-great King! Outside there's a monk with a hairy face and thunder mouth…"
"?"
Al was greatly shocked.
The goblin whelp slapped himself and hurriedly corrected:
"There's a guy dressed very… very strangely, very ugly, who wants to see you!"
"I wonder who it is. So it's the one who was pressed!"
Al, who had tried to make a joke but bitten his own tongue, stuck his tongue out. Goat Mom quickly parted the boy's mouth gently and blew into it to comfort him.
"Bring… bring him to me!"
The goblin whelp was left in place. The wolfman scout obeyed and left.
The tall centaur girl walked out of the house in a drunken haze. First she picked Al up, buried her face in his belly and rubbed back and forth, then kissed his lips fiercely, greedily sucking moisture from him.
"Stu… stupid tiger, someone is coming."
Al held the centaur girl's face and gently rubbed it.
Drunkard.
Her daily hobby was hugging Al and drinking, like an ancient degenerate emperor or treacherous minister embracing beauties and seeking pleasure.
She looked drunk right now, but if the centaur girl wanted, she could sober up very quickly. However, she liked that floating, light-headed feeling. Many actions that were normally too bold or embarrassing could be carried out freely on Al under the cover of drunkenness.
Hearing his words, the mare blinked. Her red pupils flashed with light.
A wave of wine scent spread from her body, then quickly dissipated. In just a few breaths she was completely sober.
"Enemy?" The centaur girl leaned down, mischievously ruffling the boy's short hair while Goat Mom watched with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
"Not sure yet."
Al wanted to see exactly what kind of sacred being this person was — the one who had accurately found his location deep in the vast Pina Forest sea and come knocking.
Al stood on the altar, looking at the visitor.
Behind him were the tablets — no, the shrines — of his four moms.
The person before him wore a purple hooded robe decorated with countless tiny stars. Although her entire body was hidden within the clothing, her chest was prominently bulging and her figure graceful.
It was a woman.
"Who are you?"
"White Tower scholar Kalien."
"What are you here for?"
"To assassinate you (to slay demons and uphold the righteous path)."
"?"
Al felt immediate wariness, but the centaur girl was right beside him and there were over a thousand beastmen warriors around. Even if Sigmar's Champion, the Blood-Handed Kain Chosen came, he wouldn't be able to kill his way out alone.
"You alone?"
"My companions are still on the way. The one coming to see you is only one of my avatars, because among them are extremely perceptive hunters and paladins, so I had to leave my true body behind."
"Then why did you come to see me and even tell me all this?"
Al went straight to the point.
This woman who called herself White Tower mage Kalien raised her hands. Under the wary gazes of all the beasts present, she gently pulled down her hood, revealing a cold and beautiful face.
Then her red lips parted slightly. Suppressing a tremble, she chanted:
"The wise… do not worry!"
The wisdom-tainted beasts standing guard below the steps froze for a moment. Their bird heads glanced at each other.
"The knowledgeable… do not doubt!"
Then they slowly prostrated themselves before the altar, at Al's feet.
The boy's heart trembled.
"All-knowing is supreme!"