The Triumph ceremony plus the subsequent celebrations lasted a total of three days.
On the morning of the first day, a military parade was held.
The people gathered along both sides of the road.
The troops had just undergone reorganization, yet they still carried the murderous aura of the battlefield's lingering smoke.
The massive columns of the Beastman legions marched down the main thoroughfare of the tribal heartland, which had been specially cleared.
A solemn, chilling atmosphere permeated the silent march.
Al played a trick here: he placed the Estalian Vanguard Legion at the very back.
He wanted this unit—whose composition and loyalty were still hard to determine—to appear last.
Meanwhile, the Mortal Auxilia, who were directly subordinate to the tribal banner, were placed at the very front to lead the march.
Wild, proud Centigor riders dragged banners captured from the defeated Greenskins.
These flags, painted with messy Shamanic totems and hideous images of the savage Orc gods, were pierced by spears and trailed behind the horses.
This allowed the residents on both sides to see the most direct proof of a crushing victory: the captured enemy banners!
They carried the flags as if they were their own, flaunting their triumph as they sprinted past the columns, coming and going like the wind.
Hideous, loathsome Trolls dragged fishing nets filled with Greenskin heads—so many they formed a small hill—leaving trails of filth on the ground.
Their appearance pushed the atmosphere to a climax. People screamed, rejoiced, and thrust their fists toward the sky in cheers and salutes!
They showed the ultimate contempt for the heads that could no longer support the enemies' malice:
"We stand here! We cheer! We win!"
After the Mortal Auxilia came the main, most powerful, and most terrifying force under Al's command.
The massive, slowly advancing army of Beastmen seemed endless.
The red and black legions moved in a rhythm where lethal intent was the only melody.
To this day, the invincible Bloodmother's Vanguards had accumulated immense prestige in the hearts of the people.
Now, with the destruction of the enemy vanguard, even the Greenskins would tremble at their power.
When such force stood on their side, it filled the people's hearts with the pride of shared glory and a profound sense of security.
Waves of cheers and shouts were the only melody of this delayed Triumph.
The atmosphere reached its peak when the Centigor Alina appeared—fully armed in heavy Chaos plate, wielding a hammer in one hand and a halberd in the other—
followed by Al, riding the Griffon Empress at a low altitude.
Wherever they passed, the crowds erupted in a feverish roar. Momentum rose wave after wave.
No one held back their most passionate cheers and highest salutes for these two.
Together, they sat upon the throne of tribal power, leading a majestic army to crush the enemy and rescue hundreds of thousands of refugees from the butcher's blade.
During the Triumph held according to Al's vision, the solemnity of the occasion clearly moved the centaur girl.
So many people! Everyone! Countless souls!
The gazes they cast her were not of fear, rejection, or coldness, but of heartfelt fanaticism!
They worshipped and praised the centaur's heroic posture.
Her record of being matchless on the battlefield had spread to every corner of the tribe through word of mouth.
Everyone knew how this centaur—whose beauty equaled her combat prowess—had trampled through mountains of enemy corpses.
The terrifying Greenskin Big 'Un Generals were nothing more than dead meat before her halberd.
She was like the most powerful and glorious warriors of legend!
And such a mighty warrior, as if stepped out of an epic, was now walking among them!
The Everchosen's aura of charisma was boosted to the maximum in this environment.
Some people even burst into tears of joy, sobbing until they were speechless.
Only the most primal body language could express the intensity of their emotion.
Al rode the Empress, circling the sky.
Whenever he lowered his altitude to get closer to the ground, people in that area would scream in excitement and pray.
They hoped to touch the boy's holiness, feeling invigorated just by being near a god.
Khorngor Guards... Minotaur Legions... Cavalry... the legions commanded by each scion...
The cheering peaked with Al and his adoptive mother's appearance. It remained intense afterward but never surpassed that moment.
By the time the Vanguard Legion entered the Triumphal Way, the crowd's voice had dropped significantly.
After all, their energy and throats were spent, and the implications of what the Vanguard represented caused complicated feelings among the refugees who had, at least nominally, converted to the Four Mothers.
This obvious difference in treatment caused the morale of the Vanguard soldiers—who had been excited by the victory—to dip.
Finally, Al circled back and landed at the front of the Vanguard Legion.
He walked onto the boulevard as if he were a commander leading his own men.
This caused the atmosphere to see a brief resurgence.
The Vanguard warriors once again felt proud and confident, puffing out their chests and raising their heads.
Shortly after, Al took off again on his Griffon.
After the Triumph came the celebration.
Although Al had vetoed Barbatos's plan for a total orgy, the thrill-seeker had still come up with many interesting ideas.
They were far more entertaining than just eating, drinking, and holding a festival.
After detailed discussions with his two daughters, Al took the best parts, discarded the ones that were too expensive or took too long to prepare, and integrated them into the plan.
Hunting competitions, arm wrestling, tug-of-war, competitive ball games, fish catching... many creative ideas rolled off Barbatos's tongue.
Al considered putting the third child in charge of culture and festivals to fully utilize her talents.
The second day was the same: various activities and a whole day of celebration.
All subjects in the main camp and surrounding areas who came to participate were provided with food, drink, and lodging, provided they weren't wasteful.
After all, with over two hundred thousand people—plus the Beastmen, totaling over 250,000—it was impossible for everyone to come at once.
So, he authorized various settlements to organize their own small-scale celebrations.
The most spectacular parts of the Triumph were "broadcast" as much as possible through the hard work of the mages.
They projected the images so more people could see the tribe's glorious military might and the subjects' reverence for Al, creating a group effect.
That night was an orgy. All members of the harem gathered together, fucking from dusk until dawn.
Al tossed them around and was tossed around himself for the entire night.
During the session, the centaur girl hinted that she wanted to "go to the outside space and try the fresh air."
Al, who was nearly left with a psychological shadow, repeatedly refused.
In the end, they stayed inside the palace, with him taking her from behind while clamped under her horse-belly, satisfying her demands.
On the third day, Al had a sudden whim.
He cast a disguise spell on himself and the Madam to alter their appearances.
The two of them—one a handsome youth, one a gentle housewife—dressed plainly and joined the tribal celebrations as a mother and son...
Naturally, after a day of entertainment and achieving great spiritual satisfaction, Al pulled his "mother," "Mama Marlena," into a secluded, empty alley.
After releasing a spell to isolate them from the outside world, this "mother and son couple"—who had held their titles for less than half a day—once again, and once more...