When the Centigor left, Al felt a crushing weight of helplessness.
He sat by the hole Alina had smashed in the wall, keeping one eye on Celestine.
He realized he was already becoming dependent on the centaur woman.
She was the only being who had shown him kindness and could actually hold a conversation.
His dreams of a maternal bond had been shattered by a "For Sigmar!" battle cry.
Al buried his face in his knees.
Then, he noticed the woman was glowing.
"The Hammer-God is manifesting!" Al's neck went cold.
If the Blood Mother was watching him, and Sigmar saw him, Al was a dead man walking.
However, the light wasn't Sigmar—it was a tracking spell.
"Is that wizard's trick actually working?" a young squire grumbled, adjusting the feather in his cap.
"Silence, Wil!" Hart barked. "You promised to behave if Rein let you come along."
"I found her!" Rein shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.
A Wood Elf scout dropped her hood, revealing a face tattooed with ancient markings and long, pointed ears.
"She is in this forest," Gilia said coldly.
"But I warn you—it has been six months. If she is alive, she is likely the mother of monsters now."
Rein's expression turned dark and murderous.
Back at the camp, several Wrath-Gors slowly circled Celestine, their axes low.
Al watched, heart in his throat.
He didn't notice a three-eyed bird with blue-gold feathers perched in the trees above him.
The bird tilted its head, watching the "God-child" with an unblinking gaze.
It let out a strange, shrill cry—"Chen! Chen!"—and took flight.
Suddenly, the whistle of arrows cut through the air.
The Wrath-Gors were hit—arms, legs, chests. One dropped instantly with an arrow through its eye.
"There!" a female voice shouted from the trees.
Masked figures—the "Wolves"—leapt down, their targets fixed on the boy running along the fence.
"Watch out!"
A throwing axe spun through the air, catching one masked man in the chest, slamming him into a tree with a sickening thud.
"Oro!" a woman screamed, leaping down from the branches.
The camp devolved into chaos. The Wrath-Gors roared and charged.
Oro, the fallen man, pulled off his mask to reveal the sharp fangs and wolf-ears of a mutant.
His eyes were turning milky white as blood filled them.
He could see nothing, but he felt everything—the heartbeat of his allies, the flow of blood, the scent of the soil.
A strange, eerie smile spread across his face as he gasped out his final breath to the world.
"Chen!"