Disappointed, incredibly disappointed.
Surrounded by his bodyguards and guided by two men who had bolstered their courage, Al went to the legendary—"Tavern of the Fantasy World."
In a cleared open space where you could barely sit down without rocks poking your ass.
Dozens of tables and stools of varying heights were placed around.
People gathered in twos and threes here, drinking and chatting.
They were basically all men.
Even the person serving the drinks was a limping old man.
Only two burly women, whose waists were much wider than Al's, wearing aprons and headscarves, sat together. One was crying, while the other patted her back to comfort her.
With the arrival of Al and his entourage, everyone stopped what they were doing and stood up. After their initial surprise, the bolder ones took off their hats in respect to Al.
Everyone in the area followed suit; even the crying woman lowered her arm that was wiping her tears to thank Al.
"My son died in battle, but because of your aid, my husband and I survived," she mustered the courage to say loudly. Al nodded, unsure if the woman could even see it.
As expected, I am here to save the masses from fire and water!
He sighed with emotion in his heart, yet also complained:
No mature, mysterious tavern proprietress;
No sexy, beautiful bunny-girl waitresses;
No wild, athletic female adventurer captains;
Fuck!
It was basically a crude, genuine "small tavern."
Or rather, there wasn't even a tavern building; it was just an open-air bar.
Of course, Al also knew his fantasies were too unrealistic. Reality wasn't a fantasy novel. Even though something as absurd as transmigrating to the Old World had happened, along with being born with four Goddess Mothers to save the world, and having an adoptive centaur mother who liked the boy—which, to use early 21st-century internet slang, reeked heavily of "otaku wish fulfillment."
He still didn't think it would be this absurd.
He waved his hand at the crowd and turned to leave, not intending to disturb the Veling people from releasing their physical and mental stress with alcohol.
Then, a group of white-haired women suddenly appeared before Al's eyes.
The leader had a robust physique, a tall stature, firm eyes, and a resolute yet beautiful face!
A single glance confirmed she was top-tier among white-haired women!
Especially the warhammer hanging at her waist—an unrivaled, exclusive ultimate technique!
A transcendent martial power capable of sending heretics and enemies of humanity straight to meet the God-Emperor and the Four Gods on the spot!
Al instantly recalled the dream he once had!
Being brutally judged by an Imperial General/Witch Hunter with a bald head, and burned entirely with holy fire.
Fear instantly welled up within him.
"I got too careless!"
When Boss Cao (Cao Cao) went to visit widows, he at least had mighty generals like Dian Wei and Cao Anmin by his side. Al only had twenty bodyguards with him. He didn't even bring the Blessed Gorebull because she was too flashy, and the centaur girl was resting and cleaning up in the camp after receiving his "filial piety."
He couldn't even shout: "Where is my mother Alina!"
Surrounded by Battle Sisters, he would be defeated next, then captured;
Dragged into a dungeon, chained up naked, surrounded by several older white-haired sisters, and whipped with leather... brutally flogged, interrogated, and tortured by various means until his skin was torn open, teetering on the edge of collapse, his tongue hanging out, slurring his words, snot and tears streaming down his face!
Forced to confess to the crime of being a Chaos element!
Then escorted to the busy streets of Altdorf, in broad daylight under the gaze of the masses, to put on a grand public interrogation play, and then enjoy the treatment of Earth's Saint Joan of Arc!
Al chickened out. He was just considering which route he should take to run back to the camp faster if a fight broke out, or if he could hold out until the centaur girl and the others came to reinforce him, when the Sisters of Sigmar stopped in the distance, outside a safe alert perimeter.
The leading Grand Sister walked forward alone.
It seemed she wasn't here to block his path and pick a fight.
Al, once, twice, thrice again, banished the messy thoughts from his head and straightened his expression (not that anyone could tell behind the visor).
"You are the envoy from before. I remember you."
Al spoke first. Before the Sister stopped, he added: "I heard you were extremely brave in battle, and your companions as well... The tribe respects the brave, regardless of whether they achieve victory or not."
The Sister stopped not far in front of him, with a few bodyguards standing between them. Al felt this made him look a bit cowardly, but he knew his own limits. Unless the Four Mothers gave him a cheat code, at his current stage, there was zero chance of him doing a slide-tackle counter-kill against a strong enemy.
So he had to play it safe.
Even though he had been a bit reckless today.
The Sister didn't do what Al's worst fantasies depicted—suddenly lunging forward, swinging her warhammer, roaring "Sigmar!" and charging straight at Al, sweeping everything aside, capturing the little boy, throwing her spoil of war over her shoulder, and heading home.
That terrifying future made him shudder just thinking about it.
Al only wished he had the centaur on his left, the Minotaur on his right, and the Griffon beneath him. That way, he could swaggeringly set up his formation and invite the newcomer forward for a detailed chat.
Grand Sister Helen stood five paces beyond the furthest bodyguard. At this distance, if a Khorngor bodyguard swung its greatsword forward, the Sister would already be within attack range.
The Khorngor bodyguards had indeed become highly alert. Hot air snorted from their nostrils, their beastly pupils shrank slightly, and their claws gripping their swords tightened. They were just waiting for any sudden movement from the opponent or an order from Al to sacrifice blood to the Bloodmother.
Who knew the Sister would just stand there, unmoving as a mountain, her gaze bypassing the bodyguards and staring intently at Al.
It gave the boy the creeps.
He hadn't heard that the Sisters of Sigmar shared the same fetishes as the nuns and priests on Earth.
Only then did he notice that the Grand Sister's eyes were somewhat reddish. Her golden-red pupils added a touch of bewitching allure to her divine majesty.
The Grand Sister stood in place, seemingly unaware of the frozen atmosphere in the air, solely focused on sizing Al up. After a moment, she slightly bowed her head and said: "I wish to follow you."
Al thought he misheard.
"?"
"I wish to follow you and your legion, along with my companions."
The Grand Sister repeated herself, even using an honorific.
"Why?" Al asked in return:
"You are believers of Sigmar. The tribe respects the God-Emperor of the Empire, but we forever revere the faith of the Four Mothers."
The Grand Sister reached out and grasped her warhammer. This action made the bodyguards even more tense. They felt a massive pressure radiating from this human woman, as if, as if they were facing...
She unhooked her warhammer, bent down, and gently placed it on a stone slab to the side.
She spread her hands, indicating she posed no threat, and slowly walked toward Al.
Al only hesitated for a moment before deciding, "Let her pass... don't get too close. I cannot trust you."
The Grand Sister walked up to Al, about ten paces away. The path she came from was already reclaimed by the bodyguards. A single person, unarmed, venturing deep amidst a pack of terrifying beasts.
At the very least, her courage was commendable.
As for whether it was stupidity, that remained to be seen.
"I have always... or rather, in the past, I always believed I was fighting for Sigmar, for the Empire, and for the people," she spoke softly. When it reached Al's ears, the boy frowned, not understanding what the Sister meant.
"When I discovered that the so-called sacred dogmas, the sacred traditions, were utterly rotten and decayed, and that this was precisely the source of the people's suffering, I chose to abandon my stale faith."
"To follow a Great Philanthropist who gives everyone the courage to change reality and resist the darkness."
Al's palms tightened.
The Sister continued walking forward. At this distance, the boy could see her eye color instantly turn crimson.
"Skulls for the Skull Throne..." The Grand Sister walked to the boy's side. Not a single bodyguard stopped her; they sensed an incredibly familiar and awe-inspiring aura coming from her.
She placed her hands on the boy's shoulders, leaned down, and whispered in his ear: "Blood for the Bloodmother."