Through the Shaman's magic, Al learned of the unrest occurring in the city.
He threw his hands up; well, I didn't do it anyway.
Their own infighting spared Al from having to do it himself. If he had to kill them later, he feared it would alienate people's hearts, but if he didn't kill them, his authority would be hard to establish.
Then the Veling people enthusiastically sent out a welcoming delegation of men, women, old, and young, to once again grandly welcome the arrival of their tribal allies.
The city's residents were clearing the ruins, planning to clear out a plot of land for Al to move into. They had also specifically prepared a wealthy merchant's mansion that survived the bombardment and siege perfectly intact, ready to invite the Beastlord of the tribe to grace them with his presence.
Although he held an absolute advantage, with Al's vigilance, he would absolutely not foolishly dive into someone else's sack without having control over the entire situation.
Just in case, just in case.
Should Al ask that famous historical line: "Are there any prostitutes in this city?"
It would instantly turn into a "cutting the beard and discarding the robe" escape scenario, and the title of Everchosen would be reduced to a laughingstock.
So he merely camped on the outskirts out of courtesy, while simultaneously sending people to control the inside and outside of the section of the city wall near his main camp, without going deep.
Even when the Expeditionary Force and the Veling representatives came together to invite him, he politely declined, not leaving the army.
The main reason was to guard against assassinations and surprise attacks, commanding from within the army, blah blah blah.
The secondary reason was that Al's nighttime schedule was already fully occupied by his adoptive mother.
Physically occupied.
Clearly, the centaur girl's lust, sparked by her baptism of blood, was far more intense than before.
The boy was pulled into the centaur's embrace. The two kissed passionately, while Al's hands played with her two breasts simultaneously.
The centaur girl was already drenched in sweat, her long red hair scattered over her naked upper torso. The burning desire in her eyes looked as if it were about to drip water, wishing she could swallow her adopted son whole.
She sucked forcefully, taking Al's tongue into her mouth. After drawing on it for a while, she bent her front hooves and put the boy down.
She signaled him with her raised hindquarters.
Al lowered his head, bit her nipple, and used his left hand to stroke the centaur girl's body, trailing it all the way as he walked to her rear.
The revelry was a very, very long time away from ending.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, another game of the Four Gods was also continuing.
"WAAAAAAGH!"
The ferocious Greenskin Warboss swung its giant axe down. The Grand Sister gritted her teeth, dragged her warhammer, and lunged forward, crashing into the Warboss's chest. Dodging its battleaxe, she used the strength in her shoulder to shove it a step back.
Following the momentum, a swing of the hammer from bottom to top shattered the Big Un's jaw and tusks.
The Greenskin fell to the ground.
The Grand Sister panted heavily, bent over with one hand resting on her knee.
The sound of clashing metal came from the distance. Helen lifted her head and looked over.
A foreign warrior wearing a strangely styled robe, with long hair tied into a high topknot, was drawing a long katana from its sheath.
Helen bit her lip, raised her hand to wipe the blood from her cheek, and walked toward the warrior as he walked toward her.
The long katana was completely ruined by the warhammer, but before shattering, it had also left several extremely fatal gashes on the Grand Sister's already scar-riddled armor and body.
The Eastern warrior had the broken blade of his own weapon plunged into his chest by the Grand Sister. Before dying, he cast an admiring glance at Helen, said something in a language the Sister couldn't understand, and then bowed his head.
The Grand Sister had no energy to think about this. She staggered a few steps, grabbed her rebounded warhammer, and unable to support herself any longer, collapsed to the ground.
Dry, scorching gravel pressed against her face. She closed her eyes and rested for a while.
An unfamiliar energy poured endlessly into her body from the void, healing her wounds and repairing her armor.
A massive sound of vibrating air came from afar. The Grand Sister snapped her eyes open, grabbed her warhammer, and quickly stood up.
A divinely martial beast with golden scales, radiating brilliance like the sun, descended from the sky and landed before the Sister.
Those cold, beastly eyes revealed an indifference akin to looking at an ant.
The Grand Sister pursed her lips and walked toward the great dragon.
Helen was just about to swing her warhammer to permanently cure the gorgeously dressed man kneeling on the ground of his headaches, when a group of knights charged in from outside the town.
"Stop!"
The insignia on their armor and banners were so dazzling; anyone who understood their symbolism knew that these were the Reiksguard, the Emperor's personal retinue.
"Sister Helen, you do not have the authority to privately judge a Viscount of the Empire!" the lead knight warned, gripping the reins with his right hand and resting his left hand on his sword hilt.
"The Imperial Court has already passed its sentence upon him. He will be stripped of his administrative rights over his territory and subjects, and the Emperor has decreed he must be confined to the House of Stannis's estate in Altdorf."
The Grand Sister kicked the man to the ground. The frail man immediately spat out a mouthful of blood and fell unconscious. She then raised her warhammer at the Reiksguard, using her other hand to point at a group of naked women nearby.
Among them were even heavily pregnant women and young girls.
They huddled together, crying out of fear, their bodies covered in bruises.
"Confined?"
"Sentence!"
She roared, her pupils seemingly driven to shift toward a blood-red color.
"What about them! What about their husbands! The torture and agony their families suffered—is this how the Emperor measures the value of his subjects!"
"A noble can arbitrarily arrest and torture the men in his territory, and forcefully seize their women and daughters!"
The Reiksguard captain's mount seemed spooked by the Grand Sister, stepping back uneasily. The captain continuously tugged the reins to control the horse.
"This is the decree of the Imperial Court!"
"You can find a way to appeal, but I must take Viscount Stannis back to Altdorf."
The Grand Sister took a deep breath and delivered a kick squarely to the man's crotch. He arched his body like a dead shrimp and let out a wretched wail.
Just as the Reiksguard were about to step forward, the Grand Sister turned around and pointed her hammer at the cavalrymen, her killing intent chilling to the bone.
The cavalrymen's movements froze. The Grand Sister exhaled another breath and departed toward the other side of the territory.
Ever since defeating the dragon, the Grand Sister had begun to lose the ability to distinguish between dreams and reality, as if she were truly traveling across the lands of humanity.
From time to time, she encountered bandits pillaging villages and tax collectors extorting with oppressive levies. She used the warhammer in her hand to crack their skulls open one by one, departing amidst the respectful send-offs and cheers of the people.
Insatiably greedy factory owners kept factory guard squads, using muskets and bayonets to suppress workers demanding unpaid wages and work injury compensation. She scattered the factory owner's lapdogs, and just as she was about to drag their master out of his magnificently decorated villa and hang him on the factory gates...
A Priest of Sigmar walked out with a face full of compassion, telling her that the factory owner was a devout believer and a major donor to the church.
The Arch Lector of Nuln personally intervened in the matter, sending a stern warning to the Sisterhood headquarters in Mordheim, demanding that she leave the territory of Nuln immediately and refrain from interfering with the rioting workers' situation anymore.
Grand Sister Helen took a deep breath. Under the supervision of the Priest and his accompanying militant order guards, she turned and left amidst the grateful yet disappointed gazes of the workers.
A brutal noble, treating the subjects in his territory like pigs, dogs, and playthings, lost a horse race to a neighboring noble. He hung the stable boy responsible for feeding the horse up and whipped him, believing the child had been lazy and hadn't cut enough fodder. The groom who pleaded for his son was beaten severely, and then he and his son were thrown into a cesspit to drown; before dying, he used both hands to hold the child up.
Forcing additional tax levies, the farmers gathered to petition the lord. He called in the castle's cavalry to charge back and forth through them, slaughtering them. The families of the victims were rounded up and sold as slaves, among them pregnant women and children.
Every time the Grand Sister wanted to smash this hideous evil with her warhammer, all sorts of people or situations would emerge, blocking her path, shaking their heads, and telling her: "You cannot do this."
"He is a noble."
"He is a wealthy merchant."
"He is a Priest."
"He is a prestigious gentleman."
"This is the decree of the Imperial Court."
"The Emperor has already made a judgment."
"A warning from the Arch Lector."
"A severe warning from the Mordheim headquarters."
The Grand Sister was enraged to the extreme.
The fire of mad fury burned in her chest, about to turn her internal organs into fuel.
"Why do you not fight back!"
She turned around and sternly questioned the oppressed, the ones asking her for help.
They were either dazed, unwilling but helpless, wallowing in self-pity, or merely focusing on praying and crying.
The Grand Sister raised her warhammer high again, pointing it at the sky.
"You!"
Her furious roar and question tore through the dreary sky like a clap of thunder.
"Why do You not see!"
"Why do You keep Your mouth shut!"
This action was like dropping a massive boulder into a calm lake; stormy waves of accusations and curses swept toward her.
"Enough!"
"Blasphemy!"
"She's insane!"
"God-Emperor above, what utter blasphemy!"
The devout militant order guards, the Imperial army, and the garrison troops all launched attacks against her.
That sacred, majestic giant god looking down upon the mortal realm from the firmament kept His lips tightly sealed.
The Grand Sister cracked a wide smile, gripped her warhammer, and charged into the torrent rushing toward her.
She smashed many heads. The Grand Sister never thought that one day she would use her warhammer to crack open the skulls of Reiksguard, Imperial Knights, Arch Lectors, wizards, generals, and the like, but she indeed did just that.
Out of anger?
The Grand Sister didn't know; she was approaching her limit.
Several knights thrust halberds into her body, skewered her up, and then threw her to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Then, multiple halberd blades pinned the Grand Sister's body, forcing her to kneel on the ground, completely immobilized.
An Arch Lector holding a sacred scripture stood before her, his face showing pity.
"You should never have fallen to this, Helen von Johnson."
"Evil has eroded you, corrupted you, just like a toxin polluting a pool."
"May the God-Emperor be willing to forgive your soul."
The Grand Sister kept her head lowered, her white hair entirely soaked in blood, turning a stark crimson.
She merely stared at the Arch Lector's clean, spotless, beautiful boots, bordered with gold thread and woven with a jade griffon pattern.
"My soul requires no forgiveness."
She growled low, like a dying beast.
"Death to the False Emperor!"
The Grand Sister suddenly burst upward, the halberds tearing several horrific gashes across her body. She smashed the Arch Lector's eye socket with a punch, knocked him unconscious with a headbutt, and then leaned down with a furious punch that blew his head open like a blooming flower.
She grabbed that sacred scripture, forcefully wrenched it open, tore it in half, and hurled it into the sky.
"Death to the False Faith!"
Helen roared at the heavens, clenching her fist and pointing it at the sky.
Golden lightning struck. The sacred giant god seemed enraged; He opened His eyes, glaring down at the mortal realm and the ant that dared provoke Him.
Everyone—except the Grand Sister—hurriedly fell to their knees, be they noble or peasant, worker or wealthy merchant, or clergy.
"God-Emperor above! Praise Sigmar!"
Helen looked around, as if the entire world was filled with kneeling heads.
She laughed wildly, blood flowing from the corner of her mouth.
She saw meteors fall from the sky, crushing swathes of believers to death. Right beside the craters made by the meteors, devout people trembled all over in terror but dared not move, continuously crying out for the God-Emperor's protection and reciting scriptures to pray for blessings.
"Haha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
The Grand Sister laughed maniacally, and the world shattered and turned upside down amidst her laughter.
She picked up her warhammer and went around smashing the noble skulls of the aristocrats, Arch Lectors, and wealthy merchants one by one.
A giant sword fell from the sky and plunged into the ground before her.
She looked up, and the world had suddenly turned into a blood-red realm.
Countless warriors were slaughtering each other.
She saw the picture she desired:
A group of commoners dressed as farmers and poor people, inspired by anger and courage, raised pitchforks and wooden spears, hoisting poles of varying lengths as banners, and launched an attack against a group of imposing warriors.
Workers smashed the humiliating shackles that imprisoned them at their workstations like beasts, picked up their tools, and sparked a tidal wave against the exploitation of factory owners and corrupt government!
A world-spanning Mother of the Brave, the Goddess of War, the Bloodmother, the God of Mad Rage stood on a staircase built of countless glories and battles, inspiring everything, watching everything!
She suddenly shifted Her gaze, looking at this mortal who seemed so insignificant amidst the towering tidal waves.
[Sigmar wants you to kneel.]
[I only want you to stand up.]
The Grand Sister's lips parted slightly, and she grabbed the giant sword in front of her.
She pulled it from the crimson earth, bringing forth a blinding, ten-thousand-foot radiance!
The blade reflected her double pupils and white hair, which had already turned blood-red, as well as the vivid inverted Khorne symbol on her forehead.