"Mortals fear me only because I am the Anointed, the Chosen One. The armies of the Gods gather beneath my banner. I shall destroy you, and your weak Empire."
— Archaon the Everchosen, Lord of the End Times
"No! I can't... I definitely can't today... Really, not a single drop left."
— Al the Everchosen, shared Son of the Four Gods
The centaur girl ran wildly outside the camp for a long, long time before leisurely returning.
By the time she came back, Misha and Hera, who had been searching for their father for hours, were astonished to find that the centaur who had left alone was now accompanied.
The mare looked refreshed and in high spirits.
Her usual "I am the only one who matters" arrogant personality had seen a massive improvement today.
The woman who previously ignored almost all Beastmen, even those of the main tribe, as if they were invisible, now showed incredible warmth and kindness as she walked through the camp!
She even proactively nodded to the soldiers who saluted her and the Everchosen's mother.
With a smile on her face and eyes full of lingering lust, her four hooves trotted lightly with a rhythmic clicking sound.
Alina looked radiant, showing not a single trace of the terrifying power hidden beneath her beautiful exterior.
At this moment, she looked more like a noble centaur lady returning from a very delightful and satisfying spring excursion, her entire being glowing as if injected with endless vitality.
Al, however, sitting on her back, looked utterly withered.
He wasn't even riding in a normal posture; he was side-saddled, with both legs hanging to the left.
He didn't dare close his legs, and if one looked closely, they would see his limbs twitching and trembling sporadically.
Leaving the tent had been an accident, so Al wasn't wearing his mask.
His appearance could be described as less of a "recovering from illness" look and more of a "depressed and broken" wreck.
The boy's lips were parted unconsciously, and saliva even leaked from the corner of his mouth until Al noticed and hurriedly wiped it away.
Overall, he was in a state of post-traumatic stress from being violently toyed with.
Al truly hadn't expected that the centaur girl—who had suddenly gone on the offensive and prepared a "surprise"—
would give him such a massive "Centaur Shock" during what he thought would be a stimulating and loving interaction.
The little boy was pressed against the big mare's body, the two of them intensely entangled and loving each other during a high-speed gallop.
That was nothing compared to the reality Al experienced: just how fast Alina could actually run.
In half a day, the distance they covered while joined together was equal to the length from the Sacred Grove to the main tribal camp!
The galloping centaur seemed to have awakened some talent; her combat power exploded while running.
Normally, she was a "seven-second surrender" Golden Ship in the bedroom.
But during the sprint, the violent stimulation was more than even Al could bear.
His first few "disarmaments" happened at lightning speed, yet the centaur girl stubbornly endured wave after wave of his surging attacks, proving herself to be a late-game powerhouse.
Al, riding a horse while "riding" a horse, felt his body go numb from the bouncing.
Several times, his spear slipped out of her centaur-cunt, his head spinning from the vibration.
The mount beneath him had reversed the roles, taking her rider captive.
The beautiful centaur rider, by utilizing her racial talents, had finally seized absolute dominance between mother and son again after their initial bonding at the spring.
She stopped her sprint and, in a commanding tone, ordered the boy to dismount.
She then had him embrace her body from below, pressing himself against her equine belly to begin the most intense round of combat.
Al, his brain already scrambled by the bouncing, followed her orders in a daze.
When Alina galloped again across the rugged terrain of the dense forest, the only stable connection for Al's entire body was his spear buried deep within her cunt, tightly enveloped by her vaginal walls.
Driven by the dual emotions of fear of falling and massive stimulation, Al could only death-grip the centaur girl's thighs and buttocks.
Under his adoptive mother's strict command, he maintained his thrusting movements despite the chaos.
Eventually, it felt as though Al had been dragged behind the horse for the entire duration.
When he finally injected his last load into her, Alina gradually slowed to a stop, savoring the sensation.
The finished Al simply let go of his limbs and fell from beneath her belly, crashing to the ground in a heap.
He was then picked up by the panicked mare, slung over her back, and carried to a clean spring for a wash.
During the entire process, Al was like a cub toyed with by a female predator, letting her do as she pleased.
He was truly, genuinely exhausted.
Despite his Everchosen constitution and its abundant energy, he ultimately couldn't withstand the tossing of a Centigor Chosen who was a hundred thousand—no, ninety thousand—times stronger than him right now.
This level of "Horse-Shaking" sex was still far too intense for the current, growing, juvenile Al.
This was the first time Al had ever lost in the bedroom.
In his countless past experiences, even in a one-vs-many relay-race orgy, Al had never been outplayed.
Until today, under the centaur girl's high-speed buff, he fell to the ground with trembling limbs and a weak spirit.
The centaur girl, having feasted on such a banquet and experienced supreme pleasure during her wild run, finally placed her son back on her back with satisfaction.
She carried him slowly back toward the Sacred Grove.
The limp Al looked like a captive maiden who had been violently pounded and creampied by a giant centaur, ravished until she was broken, and was now being carried back to a savage tribe to be imprisoned for a life of darkness.
Only as they approached the outskirts of the Sacred Grove did Al recover enough strength to sit up.
However, his legs still felt phantom pain and weakness, forcing him to sit sideways on Alina's back.
And that led to the current situation...
Misha stood at the tent entrance with the big wolf-girl.
She looked aggressive. Al and the centaur girl had inexplicably gone missing and played truant for half a day.
This was highly detrimental to a situation that had just ended a war and desperately needed to restore morale and stabilize the people.
It reminded Al of the days before he had formed the legions.
Back then, Misha had stayed by his side while he expanded the tribe, bringing a group of his scions and younger siblings to block his door every day.
"The government affairs aren't finished yet, you can't rest, Father," she would say.
The current cow-girl was much more mature and considerate than back then, and she didn't pester Al constantly, but her dedication to serious business remained as firm as ever.
Facing his eldest daughter who had come to "demand the person," the muddled Al didn't react.
Alina was the one in charge now. She pondered for a moment, then casually picked up Al—who only wanted to find a bed to lie on and empty his mind.
The "heartless" adoptive mother scooped him up and handed him over to his eldest daughter.
Alina was tired too, but someone had to step up.
So Misha led the way, taking Hera—who was excitedly circling around the little father in her sister's arms—and leaving the scene.
Al opened his eyes blearily, meeting the smile of the cow-girl who was looking down at her little father, who had unconsciously curled up in her embrace.
"Misha..."
Al called out fuzzily, "Come back tomorrow, okay... So tired... Not a single drop left..."
Facing Al in such a withered state, Misha naturally said nothing more.
The highly strung nerves of the past few days and the accumulated fatigue from the Great War surged up all at once, combined with the wild session with the centaur girl.
Misha remained silent, carrying her little father toward her own quarters, followed by the wolf-girl.
Her footsteps were light, and she took care to avoid crowded areas.
She occasionally rocked her arms gently to soothe Al into sleep, just as a certain inept little father had done during her own brief infancy.