The Grand Sister jolted awake from the illusion of the world-turning tidal wave.
Her armor had been stripped off. She was wearing light, clean clothes. Looking around, she saw a simply decorated small room with only a table and a bed.
On the table sat a water pitcher, along with two items that were—or used to be—the most important things to her.
The Grand Sister's warhammer, and her scripture.
She shook her head, trying to pull herself out of the impassioned battlefield hallucination, and reached out to grasp the handle of her hammer.
A surge of power flowed from it into the Sister's body.
Her other hand habitually reached for the scripture of Sigmar, but her fingertips suddenly stalled as they touched the engraved patterns on the steel cover.
After a moment of hesitation, she opened the scripture, her eyes quickly scanning the lines of doctrinal stories, parables, and illustrations.
Empty!
Hypocritical!
Fake!
It taught people how to be devout! How to resist the darkness from outside!
Yet it constantly restrained people: if the darkness was born from within, how should they rebel?!
The Grand Sister bit her lip and closed the scripture.
A blood-red inverted Khorne symbol was now carved directly over the skull icon on the holy scripture's cover—the icon that symbolized purity and untainted sanctity.
"Bloodmother..."
Sister Helen muttered to herself.
"The God of Courage and Rebels... is it?"
She grabbed the pitcher and took a few gulps. The gunshot wound on her abdomen, along with the other injuries on her body, had already healed. Her entire body surged with inexhaustible strength and energy.
The Sister pushed the door open and walked straight out without further hesitation.
The red-covered scripture was left behind.
Al had just finished showing filial piety to his adoptive mother, who remained resting in the tent due to the wear and tear on her bones.
He rode the Griffon girl alone, patrolling the skies above the city of Veling.
Because of the previous Greenskin siege, most of the buildings had been damaged. Al could safely speed around on the Griffon, looking down at the landscape of a human city in the Old World.
Although ravaged by the flames of war, it still held a unique, civilized charm.
Thinking that in the future, he could rule over a city ten, even nine times more magnificent and massive than this one, or even rule over hundreds or thousands of cities and millions of subjects across the entire Southern Realms...
Thousands of troops and horses waiting before the palace!
Heroes of the South falling into his grasp!
Al was overjoyed.
Joyful enough to fly to the heavens.
The Blessed Gorebull led the Khorngor vanguard, chasing the Everchosen's tracks on the ground through the streets and alleys.
The residents of Veling made way for these terrifying monster allies, discussing animatedly and sighing in awe at their majestic strength.
The army and the nobles experienced a massive surge in confidence from this. They believed that with such allies, "a just cause enjoys abundant support." Defeating the invading Greenskins, reclaiming the Southern Realms, and unifying the land was just around the corner!
A minority of dissenters also believed that Estalia currently needed these powerful allies, but they had to cooperate with them vigilantly.
And their leader seemed a bit unreliable...
People looked up at the sky, naturally knowing that the figure riding the Griffon and flying overhead was the Beastlord of the tribe.
As the truth was made public, while rejoicing at having dodged two disasters, the people of Veling also developed a strong interest in these "straightforward, grudge-holding, very Dwarf-like" allies.
Al had intentionally crafted this persona for the tribe precisely to make things like this happen.
Replace fear with awe; replace avoidance with curiosity.
This was the first step towards coexistence between the two sides.
When the Estalians no longer rejected coexisting with Beastmen, and both sides accepted and adapted to each other's existence and customs; when humans viewed Beastmen as powerful warriors, honorable protectors, and holy priests, then the final smooth transition—unifying actual and nominal rule—would be achieved.
And this would be expanded to even more places.
As well as dealing with potential foreign intervention armies.
Under Al's strict orders, and the fact that the Khorngors who worshipped the Bloodmother were truly not like their bloodthirsty, violent Khorngor relatives—their rationality far exceeded that of ordinary Chaos Beastmen.
Therefore, they wouldn't just hack down people or obstacles blocking their way.
The leading Blessed Gorebull (by the way, she's female) even came to a sudden halt at an intersection. She reached out, stopped the Khorngor vanguard behind her, used her extra pair of arms under her armpits to pick up a little girl holding a doll, placed her into the arms of her panicked, running mother on the other side, and then continued running forward.
Keep in mind, this was a group of monsters that could charge head-on against Boar Boy Big Uns, and their leader was a beast who could decapitate a Greenskin Warboss with a heavy strike and slay a Wyvern.
Running through the city was like a mech leading a group of heavy infantry.
Even some ruins they passed by collapsed from the vibrations of their footsteps, though fortunately, no one was injured.
Al learned of these situations from the Blessed Gorebull and had no choice but to pat the Griffon girl's head, circle a few times, and return to the camp.
He felt very embarrassed, because his fooling around had almost caused civilians to get hurt.
After thinking for a moment, he slapped his thigh and immediately summoned the Shamans to go help the Veling people treat the wounded.
It is worth mentioning that the old Shamans of the All-Father and the naturally occurring Shamans among the Beastmen mostly held dual faiths in the "Great All-Father" and the "Loving Mother." The Shamans that emerged from the Beastmen converted later mostly worshipped the Loving Mother and the All-Knowing One.
The blessings bestowed upon them by the Loving Mother contained all sorts of bizarre knowledge.
At the very least, the Shamans' abilities in planting and medicine were vastly improved.
Various strange herbs could be used to create highly effective medicines.
The thatched huts they built in the forest constantly emitted pungent smells all day, and various bugs and small animals ran in and out of them daily.
Due to the overall planning of the tribe, Al had no choice but to place the Shamans' workplaces and living areas on the outskirts and remote regions.
The Sagegors always liked to dictate how the Shamans worked. However, because some of them were former Shamans of the All-Father, they had a significant combat advantage over the newly born Sagegors who hadn't yet mastered or received more blessings from the All-Knowing One. Thus, this "guidance" usually happened in private.
Al actually really wanted to watch them have a magic duel.
And the conflict between the Bloodmother's followers and the Reveler's followers wasn't on the battlefield.
It was mostly in bed.
A husband who was a Khorngor worshipping the Bloodmother, shouting "Blood for the Bloodmother, Skulls for the Skull Throne" every day, fighting for Al-ullah. Upon returning home, he would relentlessly pound into his Beastwoman mate—who believed the Goddess of Revels would grant a longer, more beautiful, and happier life—venting his fatigue and anger.
One side found release, the other found satisfaction.
Al simultaneously gained the worship and devout faith of the entire family, young and old.
Total victory!
Speaking of this, once Beastmen and humans successfully integrate and coexist in the future, that kind of cross-species romance will definitely happen.
Beasts who like human-fucking, humans who like beast-fucking.
He could consider dabbling in... emerging arts.
How about shooting a "Beauty and the Beast"?
Al thought about it. "Beauty" should include his biological mother and the Sister he saw earlier, though both were very special cases and couldn't be simply viewed and described as "beautiful women."
As for beautiful female beasts, he had already seen quite a few...
Al slapped his forehead.
Having stayed in the tribe for too long, his aesthetics had become somewhat warped.
Now, when he saw a petite female, he would notice whether she had a cute short tail, bunny ears, and fluffy paws.
When he saw one of moderate build, he would stare at her hooves, observe whether the curve and color of her horns looked beautiful, and consider whether they were suitable to grab onto.
As for the larger builds... currently, he only had Centigors and Minotaurs under his command.
Centigors went without saying. The female Centigors didn't even dare to come near the boy, terrified of being seen by Alina. Moreover, to these female centaurs—whose aesthetics were considered normal among their kind—the Everchosen's size was perhaps far too "petite."
Worshipping him, dedicating themselves to him, dying in battle for him was all fine, but mating... seemed a bit too weird.
Minotaurs were a definite no.
They were literally "Minotaur" (NTR) people.
Regardless of male or female.
However, Al's eldest daughter, Misha Theseus, leaned more toward human in her outward appearance, just with a larger build.
And she had horns and cow ears.
And pretty little hooves...
Slap!
Al slapped his own thigh hard.
He warned himself to find a way quickly to pull his aesthetics back to normal.
He was very broad-minded and mainstream; aside from excessively bizarre fetishes, he could more or less appreciate and accept everything else.
He couldn't be confined to furries and monster girls!
Therefore—
The Shamans received their orders and left, taking two squads of Khorngors with them. They could also help with tasks like amputations, moving corpses, and clearing rubble.
Al rubbed his hands together.
Wearing the Grim Love armor and accompanied by his Khorngor bodyguards, he strolled around the camp and its immediate vicinity.
Fearing the tribe might feel rejected by the Veling people, the council mobilized the residents not to move away from the area where the tribe was garrisoned, lest the allies feel slighted seeing no human activity nearby.
So, quite a few Veling residents could still be seen.
Al casually approached a defender who was lying on the rubble, drinking and chatting idly with his companions.
Seeing Al walking over with his bodyguards, the latter hastily stood up and raised his hand, unsure whether to salute or what to do, freezing awkwardly in mid-air.
"Hey."
Al proactively greeted him, very enthusiastically.
Children educated by the United Earth Government mostly possessed some social enthusiasm skills, after all, they lived in a highly harmonious and united world.
"Is there... uh, I mean, do you guys have a place like a tavern around here?"