"To escape destruction, they foolishly stepped into another disaster zone that breeds ruin. The people of Veling bowed to the Beastlord, begging for a place to stay. But what they didn't anticipate was that when they emerged from that forest full of filth and evil corruption once again, they were no longer pure-blooded humans; they had become the kin of the cloven-hoofed ones!"
— "The Landless Prince," Garen Kilsith, leader of the Estalian Resistance.
Mages formed a large circle in the woodlands, joining hands and carefully manipulating the power of the Eight Winds of Magic.
Fiona, the Huntress, leaned against a tree, side-eying the situation inside the circle while playing with an exquisite dagger in her hand, flipping it nimbly between her fingertips.
The ritual lasted a long time. When the first intense green light bloomed from within, a squad of Shamans of the All-Father and Khorngor Vanguards walked out from a sunken pit.
"This is the last location."
The leading Shaman nodded to the mages.
"From now on, wherever there are forests and mountains in Estalia, the Everchosen's legions can arrive in an instant!"
"In the name of the Father! Invincible in battle!"
A robust Centigor raised his spear and reared up excitedly on his front hooves.
His breastplate bore a symbol painted in a special color, resembling an "i."
This was the mark Al's scions used on their armor—adopting the second syllable of Al's name—to display their uniqueness and the exclusive favor they received from their little father.
Every one of them was the leader of at least a warband, displaying astonishing talent and extremely rapid growth in battle.
Using their brief lifespans, they expanded the territories for the cause of their little father and their four merciful grandmothers.
The Beastmen worshipped these kin known as the "Sons of Al," just as they worshipped the young Everchosen. They viewed these special, noble warriors as avatars of the Everchosen to some extent.
Female Beastmen devoutly prayed to the Four Gods, hoping that when the Everchosen bestowed the next batch of bloodline gifts, the blessing would fall upon the fetuses in their wombs.
The Huntress watched all this with cold detachment.
Her heart grew colder and colder.
She completed the deal with that "Child of Demons," but everything was different from what she expected.
Claudia... once the strongest among them, the Paladin of Myrmidia whose faith in the Goddess was unshakable, had either been forced by some constraint to serve that boy... or she had already fallen into corruption.
Elia, the little nun, now spent all day mingling with a bunch of bunny girls. The last time Fiona saw her and tried to take her away, the latter stupidly and naively said she was going to spread the Goddess's gospel to the Beastmen... She almost made Fiona think the Goddess Myrmidia had four older sisters!
Who knows whose gospel she's spreading!
As for the last one, the mercenary swordswoman Ann...
Fiona bit her lip and violently stabbed her dagger into the tree trunk, using this action to vent the resentment in her heart.
This action caught the attention of the Centigor. He stepped out of the ranks, approached the Huntress, and looked down at her coldly.
"Father ordered me to pass a message: your companions are doing very well. Continue. After he completes the first step of his great cause, you will get what you want."
Then the Centigor's gaze turned fierce.
"Your companion attempted to harm the Holy Body. This is an unforgivable sin! A crime beyond description!"
He took a deep breath and lowered his spear.
"Father's mercy has already fallen upon you twice. The third time, we will descend here representing his fury." Having spoken, the Centigor turned and walked away, returning to the magical circle. Amidst a ripple of spatial distortion, he vanished.
The Huntress's right hand, hidden behind her back, clenched tightly into a fist. After a long standoff, it finally loosened powerlessly.
She tilted her head up, half her face hidden by her hood, tears flowing.
"The path of savagery and tranquility, please tell me how I should choose. Goddess, Sigmar, please open your eyes and look at this mortal who needs you to grant her strength. Where should I go..."
Just as the Huntress was secretly grieving, an unfamiliar female mage suddenly appeared
in front of her.
"We should go."
"Your mission is to head north and join the Bilbali army..."
"Enough!"
The Huntress angrily interrupted her.
"I've done enough for you! You don't need me anymore. Kill me, or let us go. It's time to make a decision!"
Fiona drew her dagger with the speed of lightning, pressing it against the female mage's neck, and with a swift motion, pulled back the latter's hood, revealing long, snow-white hair cascading over her shoulders.
The members of the Scholar Council, mages who were all followers of the All-Knowing One, watched the sudden turn of events coldly.
It was unknown whether they cared nothing for their companion's life, or if there was another reason.
The female mage sighed softly, then raised her hand, projecting a screen of light.
A moment later, a boy's voice came from it.
"Hello, hello? Mic check, mic check!"
After making a joke that no one but himself could understand, Al's face appeared on the screen. He seemed to be sitting in a chair, with no one else around him.
Fiona looked at the face that had haunted her nightmares for so long. Even though his appearance was incredibly charming, even by the strict standards cultivated by Elven education, the Huntress felt an indescribable mix of fear and anger dominating her thoughts.
She made a move that no one anticipated!
Fiona withdrew her dagger and pressed it against her own neck, glaring fiercely and resolutely at Al.
"It's time to give me closure, kid!"
"Kill me, or give us back our freedom!"
Al was somewhat surprised and tried to explain: "Didn't we agree that you would work for me and then..."
"Enough! You're just manipulating me!"
Fiona absolutely refused to believe anything this "Child of Demons" said. She cursed angrily: "You made a puppet of Claudia's will, twisted Elia's orthodox faith, and treat Ann as your pet! You filthy beast-spawn, how could I trust you! You never had any intention of honoring the contract!"
The term "beast-spawn" enraged Al. This was his first dark shadow in this world; although he shattered it with his own hands, it remained a small black spot in his heart.
Therefore, Al always emphasized that he was a "Son of Humanity, Son of the United Earth Government."
So the boy immediately shot back: "I never strip away anyone's will, only because they believe I can bring a better life; nor do I twist any faith. If truth is treated as falsehood, then who determines the path of right and wrong!"
"As for Ann..."
Al paused. This matter was indeed difficult to talk about, because both sides were somewhat in the wrong.
He thought for a moment, then continued:
"She attempted to assassinate me two... three times consecutively!"
"According to Estalian law, after the second attempted assassination, all her personal property and her life belong to me, to dispose of as I please!" Speaking of this, Al suddenly developed a flexible legal consciousness, even though he never intended to follow Estalian customs in the future anyway.
"Furthermore, we were originally hostile, I just... just..."
Al was still too embarrassed to sound self-righteous and find a high-sounding excuse for his own debauched behavior.
His moral bottom line was flexible, but it still existed.
His points in sophistry and rhetoric weren't high enough, so he stumbled over his words.
He found it hard to openly speak of things like "Justice's Judgment.avi," "The Everchosen's Physical Almsgiving," or "The Erotic History of the XX Tribe," where lust and sex were laid bare.
Finally, he gritted his teeth and said, acting almost like a sore loser:
"According to Estalian law, she completely belongs to me as a person, even the Goddess Myrmidia cannot object to this; we were originally hostile, and I only temporarily withheld punishment because I considered our cooperation as you paying a ransom for them. But subsequently, she attempted to assassinate me twice, this is undeniable!"
"My handling of her, given that it does not involve taking her life, is already sufficiently lenient (fake sincerity). If you feel this still doesn't show my mercy, then go deep into Piña, to the ruins of Cerebrio (a city upstream on the Guadaz River, pressing against the Inara Mountains), and ask those bones—what happens to those who raise their blades against me!"
Having spoken, Al waved his hand, and the image vanished.
The proud and strong Huntress couldn't help but step back twice, leaning against a tree trunk and sliding down powerlessly.
The mage slightly lowered her head, took out a pouch from under her cloak, and tossed it onto Fiona's lap.
"Here are a hundred gold crowns, and a key to the Bank of Marienburg. The safe is in the first branch of Manaan's dry dock, and it contains several land deeds."
"There is a ship called the 'Septemberflower' at the Port of Bilbali that will wait until the middle of next year. That is prepared for you. Take it, take your companions, and go live a wealthy, secluded life."
The mage finally leaned down, her white hair hanging before Fiona's forehead.
"You are not suited for this line of work."
Fiona wept helplessly as the mages left silently, disappearing into the dense forest.
She thought to herself with endless sorrow:
"With my companions? By that time, will they still leave with me... are they still my companions?"
Meanwhile, in the main tribal camp, which had already quadrupled in size since he left, inside Al's grand tent.
There were three
figures present.
"Gasp!"
"Gasp!"
Claudia pulled a lever, hauling the woman kneeling on the ground—who was bound by a full-body apparatus—backward. She finally spat out the object thrust into her mouth. The swordswoman Ann gasped heavily for air, making the greedy sound of a suffocating person seeking oxygen.
"How does it feel? Ann."
The Paladin leaned down, her holy yet wickedly eerie face bringing herself close to Ann's cheek, which was tightly bound by an iron mask and a gag device, asking curiously.
The swordswoman's lips were propped open by mechanisms pulling in four directions: up, down, left, and right. She couldn't close her mouth, only her tongue could move, but she couldn't speak either.
She could only use an angry, sorrowful gaze to constantly glare sideways at her former companion, the radiant Paladin Claudia.
"Don't look at me like that. If there's a chance in the future, I can swap places with you. I'll kneel here, you give the orders, you operate the controls, okay?" The Paladin said softly, like a lover whispering in her ear.