Al had prepared many speeches, but when the time came, the words felt stuck in his throat.
How was he supposed to face this "Mother"?
Alina stood up, her red eyes shifting with amusement between Al and the woman.
"Who is she?" the centaur asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Al didn't speak; he remained silent, locked in a gaze with the woman. He read the same confusion in her eyes:
"Who are you?"
He hesitated, then chose a tactical retreat and looked away.
Alina made a very ill-timed joke: "Is this the mate you prepared for yourself? She looks good—not like those fragile human women."
She had realized this woman was the "Maternal Host" who had carried the God-child.
"Don't say it... please don't say it..." Al pleaded silently, not daring to speak.
The woman sensed Al's embarrassment and pulled her gaze away, looking instead at the dead body of Zhakun.
Surprise and hatred flickered in her eyes.
Zhakun's death had been pathetic; his wounds were heavily rotted, the corruption spreading to the rest of his corpse.
He was castrated, his genitals lying discarded nearby, next to the decapitated bodies of the two goral-girls.
"Did... did you kill it?" Celestine asked, her gaze shifting to Alina.
The experiences of the past six months since the ambush felt like a living nightmare.
To be a prisoner of beasts, inhabited by a terrifying dark power, forced to carry an evil offspring.
As her belly grew larger day by day, whispers from the Warp and twisted, evil blessings were cast upon her—or rather, upon the fetus within her.
During that long and agonizing process, she had tried to end her own life countless times to prevent the birth of a Chaos spawn.
But under the gaze of the Dark Powers, she couldn't even pray to Sigmar, let alone kill herself.
In her dreams, she saw herself standing in the center of a dark land, drifting in a sea of Chaos.
Four terrifying shadows loomed in the sky, looking down at her and her unborn child:
In the ocean of Chaos, knights in crimson plate armor shouted the names of the Blood Mother and the God-child, paving a path of corpses to the Skull Throne.
Apostles of the Gospel, steering chariots and stirring cauldrons, spread seven diseases across the land in the name of the Compassionate Mother, offering blessings for the birth of her child.
An army of Logicians, carrying banners of the blue All-Seeing Eye, unleashed a sky-covering barrage of multicolored projectiles.
Finally, an army of Joy-Singers, ranging from the beautiful to the grotesque, from human to alien, marched forward.
They recited poems, danced, and performed grand symphonies that pierced the heavens, praising the power of the Lord of Pleasure. They were the largest of the four armies.
The earth groaned and shivered in agony, and then the world shattered, waking her from her nightmare.
Torment. Endless torment. Every day since the conception, Celestine felt like she was struggling on the most horrific battlefield of the End Times.
Today, she finally saw a glimmer of hope for release.
"Huh?"
Alina had no idea what pain the woman had endured. To her, this woman was just a tool to give birth to Al.
As long as the Blood Mother had no other plans, it didn't matter what happened to her.
Whether Al chose to kill her, fuck her, or send her back to the human world, it wasn't her concern.
The centaur woman put her hands under Al's armpits and lifted him up, proudly raising him toward the sky like a trophy.
"The one who killed Zhakun is the God-child! The Beast-Guelder! The Bane of the Gors! The King of the Joy-Singers... wait..."
Alina paused and turned Al around to face her. "Your name is Al, right?"
"Uh... yeah."
"The God-child! The Beast-Guelder! The Bane of the Gors! The King of the Joy-Singers! The Chosen of the Blood Mother—AL!"
She spun him around as if she were enjoying a victory cheer in a gladiator pit, then set him back on the ground.
This centaur isn't normal either! Al thought.
Celestine stumbled forward a few steps, her expression suddenly changing as she pressed her hand against her stomach.
It was gone!
The fetus that had tormented her for six months was gone!
She vaguely remembered being in labor before blacking out. The evil seed conceived through Chaos corruption was finally...
At that thought, the woman snapped her head up and pierced Al with her gaze.
The boy stood there, looking at her with a complicated expression.
In his past life, Al had grown up in a state-run facility. He had rarely—if ever—experienced "maternal love" except in the media he consumed.
His feelings for his biological mother were complex. He knew his birth was likely not consensual for the woman standing before him.
His existence was an embarrassment.
If his mother were Mary, he might have been able to pass himself off as the "Son of Sigmar."
But in the Old World, Sigmar actually manifested his power, so that would be a very risky lie.
Still, the immediate problem was the woman in front of him.
Al felt a internal battle between his anxiety and an unrealistic hope. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
"Ma... Mom."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.
Celestine felt like she had been struck by lightning. Her body swayed, and she collapsed onto the ground.
It had happened. The monster was born.
"Wait!"
Al felt panicked. He instinctively stepped toward her to help her up, but Celestine scrambled to her feet and ran back into the cave.
"Uh..."
Alina was watching the whole thing like it was a soap opera, looking genuinely interested in the family drama—hardly fitting for a follower of the Blood God.
Al bit his lip and chased after her, his mind racing.
A woman, forced to conceive and give birth, only to find her "child" can already run, jump, talk, and kill monsters—no normal person could accept that.
This wasn't some hentai where the woman's brain breaks and she develops maternal love for tentacles or demon babies.
But Al hadn't realized that his mother was a very strong woman.
In fact, she was too strong.
"FOR SIGMAR!"
His mother let out a battle cry from her weakened, post-birth body. She was going to commit "domestic violence" on her son.
If Al had known that his mother had a hidden weapon in the cave—one she had intended to use on herself but had been waiting for the right moment—he never would have followed her inside.
He scrambled out of the cave on all fours, fleeing for the second time today.
His mother was hot on his heels.
It looked exactly like a scene of a mother disciplining her son.
Except for the fact that she was holding a real blade.
Just as Al reached the cave entrance, he heard the whistle of air behind him.
A sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, sending him face-first into the dirt.
A shortsword clattered to the ground nearby. Ignoring the pain, Al struggled to crawl toward the centaur woman.
Fear, anger, resentment, and a sense of betrayal...
All these emotions swirled together, creating a bitter cocktail in his heart. He didn't understand why he felt so much pain.
Al didn't get far before Celestine caught him. She retrieved the sword and pinned the boy's left foot down with her boot.
Al twisted around in terror, holding his hands up to shield himself.
Celestine grabbed the pelt on his chest and lifted him up, her blade gleaming in the air.
"No! Please! Stop!"
His hands flailed in the air as he begged, his feet kicking uselessly.
Tears streamed down his face, which was already filthy with blood and mud.
The threat of death felt so real now—more real than when he had fought the Beastlord. It was as sharp as the steel in the woman's hand.
For a moment, the image of the woman before him merged with the vision of the gentle, beautiful mother he had hallucinated in the cave.
The one who had opened her arms and called to him. The "Mother" he had always fantasized about.
But it was a lie.
This woman wanted to kill him.
His biological mother was going to slaughter her "heretic" brat.
"MOM!"
Al wailed, overcome by pain and trauma. All the negative emotions he had bottled up since arriving in this world broke his sanity.
He had never been this scared. He gave up on the fantasy of a loving reunion and just screamed the word.
To Al, the word "Mom" was just a concept—a protector, a source of love.
"I WANT TO GO HOME!"
Celestine's hand froze. She held the boy, watching him struggle and howl in the air.
The horrific visions of hell, the evil gazes, the whispers of Chaos... he didn't look like any of that.
He just looked like a normal human child.
Could this be the "God-child" of the Dark Legions?
He didn't look the part.
"Justice requires unity, resolve, and kindness—and the utter destruction of all evil. There can be no mercy."
The High Priest, who had survived the End Times as a young initiate, had taught her those words.
"You are my prisoner, my trophy. You are a gift from the gods to Zhakun. You will bear his divine favor, human woman."
The Beastlord had ambushed her caravan and struck the sword from her hand, his red eyes glowing as he spoke in a twisted version of her tongue.
"Seven blessings upon Saint Celestine! For she bears the child of the Compassionate Mother, bringing grandmotherly love to the world!"
In her visions, "loving" brothers and sisters had held hands, dancing around her pregnant form.
"In the name of the Blood God and the God-child—skulls for the Enraged Mother!"
Countless red-armored warriors had crossed the darkness to worship at a tower, laying skulls at the foot of the stairs.
"The Supreme Fledgling is born! The tide of the All-Seeing One is coming!"
A figure reading from a blue book stood on a high platform, surrounded by a fanatical, cheering crowd.
"Praise the Lord of Pleasure! The Garden of Elysium is for the Prince, and ecstasy shall be for the world!"
Twisted men and women bowed toward a throne, a vision of a peaceful, hedonistic garden appearing in the air above it.
Celestine's grip tightened on the sword, and she swung it down with finality.
CLANG!