Preparations unfolded in full swing. Since a preliminary agreement had been reached, it was time to flex his muscles for the Estalians to see.
Al pulled the legions that were still stationed in the dense forest out into the open.
The massive and majestic Khorngor legion left the humans in awe. The commanders couldn't help but calculate how many Greenskins—or how many humans—a Beastman force of this scale could take on.
The envoy was moved to tears, feeling he had not disgraced his mission. As long as this army of several thousand was brought to the gates of Veling, his task would be successfully completed.
The people of Samana secretly rejoiced that they had submitted to Al's will and hadn't angered him. Otherwise, this invincible army that had just slaughtered the Greenskins would have likely unleashed their fury upon Estalian soil.
Two hundred Trolls of various kinds, serving as monstrous infantry, paired with Goblin Bombardiers.
They were primarily River Trolls and common Trolls, with a small number of Stone Trolls and Forest Trolls.
These filthy, foul-smelling monsters were commanded by a River Troll Boss named "River Shuhan"—the very first to submit to Al and use its dull Troll brain to learn how to offer faith to Al and the Four Gods. Assisted by Centigors and highly patient Minotaur Gorebulls acting as overseers, they marched separately at the rear of the legion; otherwise, their pungent stench would have sent the Khorngors into a violent frenzy.
They wielded massive clubs and great hammers as weapons. Given the tribe's current metallurgy level, it was simply too difficult to forge anything other than these clumsy, heavy objects for them. As for the Trolls' weakness to fire, Al had yet to find a good solution.
The Goblin runts weren't afraid of filth. Perhaps because they were born of nature, the Trolls largely ignored these little things and didn't casually pop them into their mouths as snacks.
They stood on crude saddles rigged onto the Trolls' backs, hurling crude stomach-acid bombs. Calling them bombs was a stretch, as there was no actual explosive effect. The Goblins used roasted Troll skin to hold their highly corrosive gastric acid, tying them up into little ball-like projectiles.
Upon heavy impact, the dried, unregenerative outer skin would split open like bark. Sometimes they would even rupture mid-air when thrown, scattering the gastric acid inside like a shower of falling flowers.
Utilizing the foul stench and corrosive acid to disgust the enemy.
At the very least, it would cause a significant blow to enemy morale.
Eighty-eight Bloodmother Minotaurs, including their Gorebull commander, the blessed Four-Armed Minotaur.
This powerful Beastman offshoot, possessing both the heavy resilience of the earth and the restless ferocity of the Wind of Aqshy, grew even larger and more robust than their kin after converting to the Bloodmother. Averaging over four meters in height, Al had no doubt they possessed the "Siege Attacker" attribute.
Their horns became sharper and harder, their skin took on a reddish hue, and they grew blood-colored manes. They also spontaneously mastered the combat techniques for heavy weapons like axes, hammers, and greatswords.
Al found some armor specifically prepared for these monsters among the armaments bestowed by the Bloodmother. Once fully armored, every single one of them became a red-and-black steel tank.
Compared to the insanely bloodthirsty Minotaurs of the past, the Bloodmother Minotaurs possessed the dual traits of bloodlust and calmness on the battlefield. After a battle ended, they only needed a short period of cooling down to use their rationality to control their raging fury, allowing them to return to their families and lead normal tribal lives.
Only a very small number of zealots, who were too eager for combat and seizing glory to sacrifice to the Bloodmother, would abandon or refuse to start a family. At most, they would have a few one-night stands, throwing their entire heart and soul into the process of preparing for and enjoying war.
Compared to the vastly larger tribal population, there weren't many of these fanatics, keeping them within Al's acceptable limits.
The rest were the Khorngor legions, consisting entirely of conventional infantry.
At Al's behest, they carried two or three short-handled throwing axes that could deal armor-piercing damage. The shorter ones, such as the Ungors converted into Khorngor followers, were equipped with javelins to act as the first rank, inflicting a wave of casualties on the enemy before the melee clash, and then using long spears to kill enemies through the gaps between the frontline Khorngor vanguard.
The core main force was the Heavily Armored Khorngors equipped with Chaos Armor, wielding greatswords, halberds, and sword-and-shield combos. They served the dual purposes of line-breaking, anti-cavalry, and garrison defense (Charge Defense, Anti-Infantry, Anti-Large, Silver Shield).
They were inherently the strongest and most fanatical believers among all Khorngors. Under the Bloodmother's blessing and the command of the Everchosen, they knew not the meaning of retreat. As long as the fires of war continued to burn and their hooves trod through rivers of blood, they would never tire. (Unbreakable, Perfect Vigor).
Standing at a minimum height of three meters, these monster-sized brutes roared the Bloodmother's name as they fought wildly. To stand opposite them was a terrifying deterrence for any enemy lacking firm resolve (Terror, Causes Fear).
The only ones capable of commanding all of them were Al and the Everchosen's adoptive mother, the Centigor Alina.
Al brought one thousand two hundred of these absolute core troops and royal guards on this expedition, numbering more than half of the regular Khorngors. In addition, there were various units composed of Centigors, wolf packs, and tamed beasts.
Basically, it was a pure melee rush composition.
An entire army of F2A (Select all -> Attack move).
Upon encountering the enemy, they would launch a wave of harassing javelin attacks, hurl throwing axes, and then charge the lines. Accompanied by the Beastmen, the Troll legion would strike from the flanks or charge straight down the middle, using their gastric acid throws to disgust and devastate the enemy, completely disrupting their formations.
The closely following Khorngor vanguard would then pour through the gaps and slaughter everything in sight. The devastating charge initiated by the Bloodmother Minotaurs would flatten all obstacles, causing an enemy flank to collapse!
The Heavily Armored Khorngors would become avatars of deathly steel, harvesting blood for the Blood God, offering blood to the Bloodmother!
A great victory for our forces!
The idea was great, but it lacked practical application.
And that opportunity was about to arrive.
Al rode on the back of the Griffon girl, wrapping his arms around her neck as they sliced through the sky.
The tribal legions had already begun to move. After holding a mass funeral for their dead, the entirely cavalry-based human force geared up and rode at the forefront to clear the way. Running at the very front were the Centigors and wolf packs. The Beastmen Al had previously sent out to map the area and scout the movements of the Greenskins and humans had already reached the walls of Veling.
He sensed that the number of Greenskins there was roughly around twenty thousand. From time to time, small warbands and mobs arrived to join the horde, and occasionally, Greenskins who got bored or left for other reasons would depart.
There was also the help of pirates. These treacherous, shameless, despicable sea wolves were assisting their Greenskin allies, operating cannons to continuously bombard the walls of Veling, grinding down the Estalians' physical and mental defenses.
He could smell the scent of war condensing in the air. His four thousand, plus the Estalian defenders, amounted to ten thousand at most—over six thousand of which were the city guard, suffering from rock-bottom morale due to consecutive defeats.
They had to face a massive Greenskin army of over twenty thousand with skyrocketing morale, currently in the initial stages of a Great WAAAAAGH!.
Veling absolutely had to be saved, but if it meant sacrificing the elite core he had painstakingly built, it would definitely not be worth the cost. Even if they could win, Al had to seriously consider the consequences of overly heavy losses.
But after all, the lives of an entire city were at stake...
Al felt a bit conflicted in his heart. He was the Everchosen, the Son of Chaos, yes. He was also the one who partied every night in unbridled debauchery, forcefully taking the Paladin (although the top/bottom dynamic was reversed now), and even harbored certain (...) fantasies about his own biological mother.
But Al was a good person, absolutely!
"I just save the world in a way that's different from the mainstream!" (He yelled internally).
He needed to personally observe the enemy's situation before making adequate plans. If commanded tactically and properly, perhaps they could lift the siege of Veling at a smaller cost... Of course, it would be best if he could make the entire city relocate.
The tribe's strength would be proven in this hard-hitting, genuine war.
As his thoughts soared into the sky, the troubles of worldly desires and distracting thoughts seemed to leave him. Al's mind was clear, his gaze resolute.
Countless stratagems and troop formations filled his mind, while the mark of the third vertical eye between his brows flickered faintly in the sunlight.
Only when far from the earth, looking down at the mortal dust from a transcendent perspective, could Al truly understand his own heart and reflect on his thoughts.
He was reminding himself, warning himself.
Do not lose his more precious free will for the sake of eager, quick successes.
That was the rare treasure for which he would rather rebel against the Four Gods, regardless of whether they were the old or the new.
"My name is Al, and I am not a beast."
"I am a Son of Humanity. A Son of the United Earth Government."