To the side and rear of the Sacred Grove,
green radiance condensed from between the fallen leaves and dust, then blossomed.
A massive vortex rift emerged from the void, tearing through the boundaries of space and expanding rapidly.
In the Greenskin siege camp, only a few Orc Boyz, Goblins, Snotlings, and other pathetic servant troops remained on guard.
A few Goblins were bullying and chasing a group of Snotlings out of the camp when they suddenly froze, staring at the front.
The giant vortex had appeared abruptly between the fortress and the camp, and the wooden clubs in their hands silently dropped.
"Hooo..."
The first Blessed Minotaur under Al's command, the commander of the Bloodmother's Minotaur Legion, the four-armed behemoth Alestar, was the first to step out of the ley line teleportation tunnel.
Hot white breath puffed from her nostrils; the Minotaur commander scented the aura of slaughter permeating the air.
In an instant, she swiftly identified her targets.
Massive legions stepped out of the tunnel in full formation, and monsters soared into the airspace of the Sacred Grove during their transit through the portal.
Fully armed and the Chosen of the Bloodmother, the Centigor Alina stepped out of the portal gripping her god-given halberd.
She was like a malevolent deity of man and horse combined; wherever she went, a killing field followed, so dense it felt physical.
Heavy armor covered Al's adoptive mother from head to toe.
Only the crimson light flickering in her eyes beneath the visor served as proof that a living being still dwelled beneath this Chaos plate forged of blood, fire, and steel.
Black backgrounds, red circles—between the black and red banners were the eight-pointed stars of Chaos Undivided.
In the center was a miniature hexagram, the symbol representing Al—the Everchosen.
The tribal legions, hoisting stars and banners of all sizes, fanatically shouted the titles of their deities.
In the names of the gods they worshipped and the Chosen of the Four, they stepped onto the battlefield!
The site of the old walls looked as if it had never existed after the Skaven Doomrocket strike; only ruins of dust and stone remained.
Al had arrived in person, witnessing the collapsed ruins of the fortress he had placed so much hope in.
Clad in heavy, hideous Chaos armor and wielding halberds, greatswords, and shield-axes, the Heavily Armored Khorngor Legion stepped out of the tunnel.
Then came the thundering Centigor cavalry and the armored wolf-pack corps.
The Troll Legion, wearing crude outer plates and wielding various types of clubs, followed the River Troll leader "He Shuhan" out of the portal.
They consciously spread toward the flanks.
Baskets hung from their backs, each containing a crouching Goblin Bombardier.
These Goblins were ready to hurl Troll Bombs—refined by Shamans using Troll gastric juice as the primary ingredient mixed with herbs and ore powders—onto the heads of the enemy.
The earth trembled as the massive bodies of the Minotaur Legion caused the ground to sink with every step.
Tall, hooded Beastman Shaman-monks in long robes emerged from the tunnel.
They carried massive sacrificial vessels and ritual implements, or held holy relics of the Four Mothers toward the sky.
They welcomed the grace of the blessings into the material realm, showering it upon the entire tribal legion.
The Shamans were the only ones allowed to hold the double-sided five-pattern icons—the All-Knowing Eye, the Ouroboros, the Inverted Khorne Symbol, the Winged Heart, and the Eight-Pointed Hexagram.
"The time has come!"
"The bestowal is near!"
Sagegor mages riding upon Manticores flew and circled above the legion.
Clutching codices and scriptures, they fanatically shouted the future they had predicted to the mortal world.
The Everchosen had decided to no longer be a bystander to the conflicts of his subordinates; he was resolved to personally step onto the field and manipulate the blades.
His legions were duty-bound to follow him—unto death!
Fanaticism and the sense of being blessed surged within the chest of every Beastman.
Even the clumsiest, dullest Troll was inspired by this soaring emotion, becoming excited and hungry for war.
Al sat upon the back of the Griffon Empress, lifting his mask of Cold Love to look down at the ruins.
The moment he crossed the ley line teleportation, he sensed the activity of the Blood River Blessing.
The Bloodmother's power instantly radiated across the entire battlefield of the Sacred Grove.
It injected energy into the warriors still holding out in the city and healed their light wounds.
At this moment, it wasn't just the Greenskins' unique WAAAAAGH! field that was being strengthened.
Hera led her Fourth Legion of Black Iron Warriors as a separate pack.
The wolf-girl was already restless, looking around fanatically.
She couldn't wait for Al's command to experience the pleasure of slaughter in a heated battle.
Kael'thas turned over his legion to Misha's proxy command, remaining by Al's side to serve as an adjutant.
With the four legions including Barbatos's, plus the units Al had extra-allocated to Misha's command, the eldest daughter had five thousand troops under her control.
Under Al's desperate mobilization, the tribe's available military strength had expanded to exactly thirty thousand.
However, eight thousand Mortal Auxilia and five thousand of the Vanguard Legion—a total of thirteen thousand human soldiers—had all been dispatched to the Sacred Grove region.
Combined with the three thousand Khorngor warriors defending the city, more than half of the tribe's troops were at the Sacred Grove.
But the vast majority of those were human soldiers, along with the five thousand guest troops of the Vanguard.
The fourteen thousand warriors Al kept at the tribal base, intended to deliver the final blow, were all 100% Beastman soldiers.
Among them were the Bloodmother Khorngors acting as the absolute main force, as well as various Beastmen who had not undergone morphological changes.
Regardless, they were the absolute main force of the tribe.
Khorngors occupied nearly seventy percent of that ratio.
For a Beastman population that had only recently broken fifty thousand and hadn't yet reached sixty thousand,
even with a tradition of "every citizen a soldier," a one-in-five recruitment ratio was a piece of madness only possible in such a magical world.
Fortunately, except for those with a high degree of blessing—the Heavily Armored Khorngors—most Khorngors could serve as soldiers in wartime and return to normal life otherwise.
Misha currently commanded one-third of the tribe's forces outside the city defenders, and half of Al's main army.
Commanding a force of this scale in a legion-level battle was a first for both the little father and the eldest daughter.
Al's feat of breaking twenty thousand Greenskins with seven thousand at Veling had been an ambush and a trick.
He had struck the Greenskins' weak rear while they were besieging the city.
Furthermore, during the duel between generals, the centaur girl had easily defeated the Greenskin general, causing him to be rescued and evacuated, which broke the Greenskin morale.
Now, Al wanted to replicate the result at Veling—that event which, for the people of Veling, was undoubtedly a "miracle."
Al looked into the distance, multitasking as his mind also focused on the situation within the All-Knowing Blessing.
"The Greenskin main force is bogged down in the city... Misha!"
The Griffon Empress dove down, and Al landed beside the cow-girl.
The eldest daughter, who had proven her ability but lacked a truly large-scale baptism of blood and fire, stood in full armor before the legion.
Al lowered his visor, his voice coming out muffled through the mask.
"The number of enemies outside the city isn't large. I'm handing the Centigors and the wolf-packs entirely to you. Break them for me within half an hour."
"I will go clash with the enemy in the city to rescue the defenders."
He finished his orders and, without waiting for a reply, flew straight into the sky.
With the combination of Griffons, Manticores, and Wyverns, the tribe had undoubtedly seized control of the air, given the Greenskins' lack of flying war-beasts.
"Executing your command is a supreme honor."
The eldest daughter placed a hand over her chest and bowed to the sky.
She turned around and looked at the nearby camp, where scattered Greenskins were frantically shouting and gathering.
They were trying to resist this unknown enemy that had appeared abruptly on the battlefield and cut off the connection between the inner and outer armies.
A stiff smile curled the corners of the cow-girl's mouth.
"Prepare to strike!"
"In my Father's name!" Misha raised her spear, pointing it at the Greenskin camp outside the city.
The battle cries of the legion rang out in unison. They had waited and remained dormant for a long time.
Though this was unexpected, it was exactly the right moment for a fanatical battle!
Al's teleported main legion and fresh troops split into two parts.
The units shouting "In my Father's name" naturally turned toward the Greenskin camp outside the fortress, following the eldest scion.
And Al was going to personally lead his subordinates to pincers-attack the enemies—who numbered several times his own—trapping them within his city.
The two sharp forces moved back-to-back. At this time, behind the ruins of the wall, Greenskins aware of the anomaly began to huddle together.
They faced outward, intending to meet these suddenly appearing beast-things.
The army they were about to collide with was one whose power they had not yet truly realized.
Inside the city, the Greenskin commander, Tank Bone-Club, who was moving forward with his personal guard as the front line pushed on, scratched his large head.
He felt something was wrong.
A multitude of Wyverns and Griffon-things were flying over their heads.