In strictly military terms, Al valued his own losses—the exchange ratio—above all else.
This was a habit formed from studying a pile of "war criminal crash course" materials.
After all, heads aren't like chives; even mass-produced "fast-growth" scions require a female to get pregnant, gestate, and deliver.
A Pyrrhic victory was something Al did not want to experience.
Thus, the moment the Greenskins deployed their elites, he decisively ordered his troops to halt after clearing the immediate enemies.
They occupied the high ground and waited in a prepared state, taking the initiative by resting.
Al truly did not want to trade his elite subordinates—who were few and cost more time and resources to grow—for Greenskins that grew out of the dirt.
"Prepare the Minotaur Legion!"
Generally two to three men tall—standing half a body taller than an average River Troll, nearly two stories high—the Minotaurs were the ceiling of Al's land forces, second only to creatures like Giants.
Beastmen were once the children of Chaos spread from the lands of the Old World to the dark forests of the Druchii.
The vanguard of corruption—cruel, savage, and a calamity that brought ruin to civilized settlements. They slaughtered, engaged in cannibalism, erected foul Herdstones, corrupted forests, and desecrated towns.
And the Minotaurs (Minotaurs/Bullgors) were the most terrifying and powerful sub-race of the Beastmen.
Their intelligence was lower than that of their other kin, but their supernatural strength and physique more than compensated for it.
Their sharp horns could pierce plate armor and drive into city walls. They were eternally irritable and bloodthirsty, possessing an unnatural hunger for human flesh.
This evil, fanatical greed drove them to crave fresh meat desperately, seeking out the living, chasing after steaming "food," and this hunger was never satisfied.
Minotaurs often served as guardians of Chaos holy sites and the tombs of fallen Chosen and Champions.
There, they would stack captured armor and weapons into mountains—items usually taken from mortals unlucky enough to encounter them.
The strongest among them would catch the eye of the Dark Gods and become Gorebulls or Doombulls, even leading a tribe as a Doombull Lord.
And the most terrifying ones—those who abandoned thought and reason, fully releasing their bloodlust and greed for flesh—would become the "Gorgons," gluttonous calamities that devoured their own kin.
They surrendered entirely to their gluttony and bloodthirst, eventually transforming into the "Ghorgons" that even Beastmen revered and feared as gods.
They would grow extra arms, sharp maws, and spikes, becoming the ultimate killing and eating machines on the battlefield.
While unleashing a storm of blood and gore through an army, they would greedily consume flesh to fuel their never-ending hunger.
Another portion would mutate into a cousin branch of the Minotaurs, the "Cygors," becoming unique behemoth units.
However, after escaping Chaos corruption and converting to the All-Father and the Path of Nature, the All-Father Minotaurs possessed personalities similar to real "old oxen"—honest, simple, and hardworking.
They were high-quality laborers welcomed and accepted in many places.
Yet, when provoked, the ancient rage and brutality in their blood would awaken, turning them into terrifying heavy soldiers.
Beastmen generally suffered from invisible discrimination and second-class or third-class citizenship throughout the Old World.
Because they were used to huddling in tribes, migrating, and living together, many conflicts had broken out.
In these conflicts—as well as the several wars between New World Beastman colonies and other factions—the heavy infantry legions composed of Minotaurs had shone brilliantly, achieving glorious results.
After Thar [Previous leader] died, the tribal remnants all fell under Al's command.
Due to the fires of revenge and the spread of the Four Mother faith—influenced by the first Minotaur to follow Al, the current Blessed Minotaur Commander Alestar—the existing and later-joined Minotaurs had almost entirely converted to the Bloodmother faith.
Upon committing to the new Chaos faith, the Bloodmother did not hesitate to bestow her blessings upon these highly potential creatures.
The Dark Power manifested her might within these Minotaurs who had once been favored by Chaos.
They were reshaped, trending back toward those hoofed abominations and walking flesh-eaters from before the last End Times.
But this time, they did not fully fall into darkness or extreme emotions.
Their hunger for human flesh and their irrepressible pursuit of destruction were all channeled into an unceasing, eternal fire of fury against the enemy on the battlefield.
Once the commander pointed out the enemy, the Bloodmother's gift and curse would begin to awaken.
The massive suppressed impulses and emotions would flood their organs, becoming the source of the Minotaur Legion's power as they swung twin axes or blade-shields.
Never tired, never retreating!
Swearing to impale enemies with horns and hack them with blades, trampling armies and crushing fortresses.
As long as the eyes could see, any enemy still capable of movement was to die—this was their source of fanaticism and strength!
Under Al's gaze, these "Old Oxen"—who had once given him an impression of "honest simplicity," who would bow to nature when sowing grain, and who would warmly open their bosoms to let him drink his fill [of milk]—had now shed all their old mundanity.
Now, they were clad in heavy armor, wielding giant weapons, carrying the scent of sulfur.
Their copper-bell eyes remained clear yet could never fully erase the crimson bloodlust to slaughter the enemy.
They were the sharpest components of the Bloodmother's Vanguards!
They were the living heavy tanks under the Everchosen's command that crushed enemies like dry weeds.
They were engines of slaughter that even the Khorngors of Al's legions looked upon with awe.
The silent Black Orc units had already appeared less than a hundred meters before the tribal legions.
These hulking figures, stronger than even the standard Orc Big 'Uns, were the disastrous consequence of the Chaos Dwarfs' attempt to enslave Greenskins.
They were a terrifying scar inflicted upon the world by those Chaos Stunties who had betrayed their ancestor gods and Dwarf traditions.
To the enemies of the Black Orcs, their strength was both the primary and secondary threat.
What made them scarier than other Greenskins was that Black Orcs possessed the concepts of "discipline" and "organization."
They disliked infighting—the most common behavior in a Greenskin tribe when no enemy was in sight or no "WAAAAAGH!" target existed.
Without enemies, Greenskins would often start "massive brawls," processing conflicts through combat.
Almost all Orc Warlord's guards, whenever possible, were composed of these dark green or black-skinned brutes.
In Al's memory, Grimgor Ironhide—who nearly cleaved Archaon with an axe and achieved the epic feat of a Greenskin saving the world if not for his weapon's quality—was history's most WAAAAAGH!-y Black Orc Warlord.
The Savage Orcs, on the other hand, were more traditional—savage even compared to typical Orcs.
They wore no armor, used stone clubs, and were covered in tattoos—strange markings that granted them powerful physical resistance.
Their combat style was far more aggressive and reckless than that of ordinary Greenskins.
If Al were to use ordinary Khorngors to trade with these Big 'Uns, even at a ratio of one for three or four, he'd feel like he was losing.
Fortunately, he was the Beastman leader—with the Lizardmen gone, who was going to challenge him for the title of the "Monster Park"!
Al had adopted a multi-pronged attack strategy earlier.
The street-fighting terrain was right there; even after splitting his forces, the tribe would not be at a numerical disadvantage in local engagements.
In terms of quality, they easily suppressed the Greenskins.
Currently, the tribe controlled the narrow lanes within the Sacred Grove and dominated the terrain.
Al saw that the Greenskins hadn't rushed in blindly.
Even the most savage and reckless Savage Orcs were being held back at the front by their generals; the two armies were in a standoff.
It seemed that even if they intended to meet head-on and break the enemy with elites, the Greenskin commander was not a brainless brute who only knew how to WAAAAAGH!.
He still possessed caution and a desire to test the waters.
"In that case..."
"Order all units: Advance ten steps and form ranks to await the enemy!"
"Deploy the Troll Corps to harass the Greenskin lines!"
Al issued the command for the Troll Corps through He Shuhan.
The latter let out a series of squeals and roars.
Having just "showered" in the sea of soldiers (which felt like a group massage) and gorged themselves after a grand slaughter, the Troll Corps sluggishly and slowly reassembled and began to move.
Al felt a slight displeasure.
Trolls were a monster race with superlative stamina, yet their will to fight had dwindled after a single engagement.
With frequent wars ahead, he feared such "slacking" behavior in major battles would become the missing nail in the horseshoe that causes a kingdom's fall.
This dissatisfaction was not hidden and was conveyed to the Troll leader.
He Shuhan, whose physique was a notch taller and sturdier than average Trolls—making him a "Troll Big 'Un" in every sense—sensed the Everchosen's emotion.
He shrunk his head in fear, then raised it again, letting out a small, aggrieved cry toward Al's figure in the sky.
He felt his own kin were truly "too stupid and clumsy, not even a tenth as capable as me."
Let alone what Al thought.
But for now, as long as they were usable, it would suffice.
He Shuhan let out several more dissatisfied roars, urging his Troll kin to speed up their movements and walk toward the Greenskin Orc battle lines.