"BLOOD! FOR! THE BLOOD! MOTHER!"
"WAAAAAAAGH!"
Two armies shouting different war cries collided like two raging torrents.
The heavily armored Khorngors, clad in red and black, turned into ruthless killing machines, swinging greatswords and massive axes, churning out mangled Greenskin corpses one after another.
The blessed Minotaur Gorebull, surging with overwhelming battle-lust, wielded shields and axes in all four of its arms. Like a scarlet whirlwind, it ruthlessly devoured and slaughtered every Greenskin that dared come close.
It was precisely the first Minotaur that had followed Al and received the blessing during the Bloodmother sacrifice, having now ascended.
He could pretty much be considered an agent now.
The blessed Minotaur roared and rampaged like a tank, directly engaging the Greenskin Warboss. With a few axe strikes, it split the crude chopper in the Greenskin's hand, and with a diagonal swing, decapitated him.
Grabbing the severed head, it roared to the heavens.
The Greenskins shrieked their WAAAAAGHs, but couldn't muster their previous momentum. Easily steamrolled by the Khorngors, their morale collapsed, and most of the Greenskins directly routed and fled.
Tightly entangled by the wolf packs and Centigor legion that had been prowling on the flanks, in less than ten minutes, this Greenskin skirmisher force was annihilated on the outskirts.
The Beastmen legion reformed its ranks on the plains outside the town. Not a single corpse among the carnage belonged to a Beastman. Against such disorganized stragglers, the heavily armored Khorngors just rolled right over them. Once their Warboss was slain by the Minotaur Gorebull, the remaining Greenskins lacked anyone capable of threatening these heavy slaughter-weapons.
Inside the town, the militiamen who had gathered to resist the Greenskins widened their eyes, staring in horror from the ruins and corners at this legion outside, which was ten times more terrifying than the Greenskins. Women, children, and the elderly huddled in the central church and cellars, nervously praying to the gods of the heavens.
Perhaps their prayers had truly worked.
Four great deities had sent their vanguard to save this ordinary small town from the savage butcher's blade, intending to incorporate it into a brand-new, grand order.
Just like the countless desperate prayers before the End Times, the gods had indeed cast their gaze upon the mortal realm and bestowed their divine grace.
The followers of the All-Father took the lead, with the blessed Minotaur and the heavy Khorngor guard following behind, forming a terrifying, silent deterrent. Given that at least three-quarters of the army hadn't yet marched out of the forest, Al took a rare moment alone with his guards to find a high vantage point, observing the layout of the town.
It actually deviated quite a bit from his expectations. At least looking from the outside, it wasn't as backward as he had imagined.
Although he had previously shared vision with the Beastmen who went out, it was only for a brief period, making it difficult to observe intuitively.
The followers of the All-Father, accompanied by the intimidating presence of the Khorngor vanguard, began negotiations with the humans. Under the absolute disparity in power, the humans in the town began to emerge from their hiding spots, gathering in the central square, whispering and discussing incessantly.
All were speculating on the true motives of these strange, powerful beasts emerging from the forest. Although they had helped the town eliminate the Greenskin threat, they didn't look like chivalrous knights dealing justice without seeking reward.
On the contrary, they looked like an army of destruction far more terrifying than the savage Greenskins.
The heavily breathing crimson beasts, the sharp, thick horns, the chitinous armor forming across their bodies—all showed that every single one of these Beastmen was a living killing machine.
Had there not been an absolute gap in power, the militia and the spontaneous volunteers knew full well that they could never resist a force that had effortlessly annihilated the Greenskins who nearly wiped out the entire town. Estalians wouldn't submit so easily otherwise.
The mayor, the priest, and some local respectable gentry took the lead, bringing the men to the center of the town, while the elderly, weak, women, and children mostly remained hidden in the church.
Al plucked a small, nameless white flower from by his feet and held it between his fingers to examine it.
"Beautiful."
Al praised it.
"It's mine now."
"Let's go, into~ the city!"
The wolf packs entered the town ahead of Al, using their sharp sense of smell and perception to search for any hidden threats or assassins. Fortunately, no rash Estalian wanted to play the hero and bring about total annihilation.
Wearing the Grim Love armor, with a randomly found rapier at his waist acting as a ceremonial weapon, Al swaggered into the town.
All the prominent figures of the town, big and small, had gathered in the square, awaiting the arrival of the Beastlord.
Then, Al made his grand entrance.
Although confused as to why his size looked no bigger than a cub even compared to the most basic Khorngor, the mayor realized that given the Beastmen's instinctive reverence and submission to Al, the other party was undoubtedly the leader of this army.
At least, that was what was presented before them.
The scene was silent. Al observed everyone from behind his helmet, and they too tried to use inconspicuous glances to size him up, guessing the intentions of this mysterious army.
After a moment passed, Al spoke slowly. His voice, passing through the armor, became muffled and icy cold, like frigid iron:
"I will ask a few questions. You will just answer them."
The mayor's heart leaped to his throat as he hurriedly replied: "Please, ask away. All the residents of Samana are grateful to you for saving us. To repay your life-saving grace, we will naturally tell you everything we know."
Saying so, he took a step forward and bowed deeply.
The gentry and notables behind him simultaneously bowed and paid their respects to Al. The Everchosen remained silent; he didn't decline, didn't step aside, nor did he show any positive emotion.
"How many people are in this town in total?"
"Uh..."
"Within the Kingdom of Estalia, what level does your town roughly fall under?"
"How far is the nearest city?"
"Is Magritta still holding out?"
"What is the situation with the Goddess's Church?" Al pointed at the priest standing next to the mayor, signaling for him to answer.
"How many militiamen are usually stationed in this town? What equipment do they mainly use—more firearms, or more bows and crossbows? How many warriors can you mobilize in an emergency?"
"How is your income? More in goods, or in coin?"
"..."
"Finally, who... do you think I am?"
"..."
The questions became increasingly tricky and probing. The mayor was sweating profusely. If possible, he really didn't want to answer some of the Beastlord's questions. Though the other party hadn't openly drawn swords, those terrifying warriors standing in the square formed an undeniable deterrent.
Samana had already experienced the danger of annihilation once. If possible, they didn't want it to face the threat of destruction again.
The mayor struggled to answer Al's questions one by one, with the town's gentry occasionally chipping in to supplement. Al also periodically fired questions at them. Though not perfectly accurate, he now had a rough outline.
Al wasn't afraid of these people lying to him. After all, they weren't absolutely critical questions. As he conquered more territory, detailed truths would certainly be laid out before him. If he discovered he had been deceived then, it wouldn't be a big deal.
As long as they didn't run away, confiscating their properties, sentencing them to hard labor—there were plenty of ways to punish them.
"You, you must be a great and wise leader! A benevolent and tolerant ruler!"
"Leading your loyal army to drive out savagery! To defend civilization!"
The mayor flattered Al for a while, using the most extreme words of praise.
Beneath his helmet, Al smiled faintly.
"Very well. Since you think so, then..."
"Does this town need such a great, wise, benevolent, and tolerant ruler to defend its civilization?"
A sharp screech came from the sky.
A massive aerial behemoth circled above the crowd, then dived down and landed beside Al.
Majestic posture, noble bearing, perfect savagery!
An aristocratic powerhouse among beasts.
A magnificent Griffon!
Al reached out and stroked the Griffon girl's mane. His eldest daughter had stayed by the centaur girl's side to provide aerial reconnaissance and deliver messages.
"So, the answer to my question?"
The bead of sweat on the mayor's forehead slipped past his eye, ran down his cheek all the way to his chin, and soaked his collar.