Al still expended a great deal of energy severely rewarding the fallen Paladin who had dispelled the mist and pointed the way for the boy.
Using the chains of the swordswoman Ann, he locked them around her neck, holding the other end in his hand.
The Paladin's face and breasts were pressed to the floor, her round, sexy ass raised high, as the boy pinned her down, choked her, and roughly pounded into her.
The beautiful, mature female Paladin was fucked until her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness.
Fucked by a boy far younger, smaller, and vastly weaker than her when not using the Everchosen's power.
Only when she was powerless to provoke or beg Al for more sex did this "reward" finally end.
Just like his many previous sexual encounters with Claudia, Al released the dark desires in his heart and satisfied his physical needs.
However, psychologically, he always felt a faint, lingering discomfort, as if he were being "prostituted."
His combat stamina was no longer that of the little boy who, when faced with the insatiable demands of the newly-corrupted, highly aroused Paladin, had to hide next to the centaur girl all day.
Yet his mindset remained "I take the lead, but I consider others."
His goal was for everyone to be happy—or, in more traditional terms, "achieving the grand harmony of life together."
Facing a character with the "juice-extracting nympho" attribute like Claudia was still slightly difficult to handle.
Every time, he had to end the battle with rough methods.
Otherwise, as long as she had any strength left, Claudia would endlessly demand more from Al, meaning the bed-battle would inevitably continue until one side collapsed and gave up.
After this conversation, Al opened up a brand new train of thought regarding how to make the Estalians accept his rule:
Having experienced the worst and most desperate situations, they would undoubtedly yearn for any salvation that could pull them from their plight.
They would be willing to pay any price for it—such as being ruled by an "alien" monarch, integrated by a strong power, abandoning the Myrmidian faith that could no longer protect the Southern people, and converting to the Four Mothers...
And what could be worse than the worst kind of rule?
Violent, savage invaders... a subservient, capitulating regime... extortionate pillaging...
Where rebelling means death and submitting also means death...
A legitimate Kingdom resistance force that forces starving refugee men to leave their families, walk out of shelters, and launch impossible suicide attacks...
A picture of Hell itself?
Al couldn't help but grin.
He believed that with such a prime location—possessing the advantages of timing, terrain, and popular sentiment—he could hardly find a better opportunity or territory to start his rise anywhere in the world.
If he were in the Empire—where the boss Sigmar's Empire remains rigid but undeclining, and the Church's influence is massive, reaching every corner of society—
Even internal usurpation or explosive uprisings would be difficult.
Al's path to spread the faith of the Four Mothers would naturally make him a mortal enemy of the Cult of Sigmar.
In the loose confederation of Bretonnia, starting out would be easy; seizing the highest power of a city or dukedom wouldn't be a big problem.
But if Al wanted to unify the region, expand through force, holding a sword in one hand and scripture in the other, an encirclement coalition would inevitably form.
He would be attacked by numerous Bretonnian dukedoms, and they might even directly invite the Imperial armies to intervene with force.
Other places, like the High Elves, Kislev, the Border Princes, or Cathay, were either too difficult...
"Starting a cult, are we? The Swordmasters of Hoeth or the Moon Empress's Onyx Crowmen will be at your door soon enough!"
Or their development potential was too small, requiring too much time investment.
And what Al lacked most was time. Lileath had prophesied, "Such an enterprise can be achieved in a hundred years,"
But she also revealed that the time remaining for the mortal world before the next—the true "End Times"—was less than a century.
Only the Southern World, relatively isolated from the center of the Old World...
If the sea routes were cut off, the Southern Kingdoms' connections with Bretonnia and the Empire were limited.
With the former, there was only one narrow land passage via the Carcassonne Round Table Council.
With the latter, one had to traverse long, treacherous mountain passes filled with dark forests, mountain caves, and no shortage of rampaging Greenskin warbands and bandits.
Or, one had to travel through the Border Princes and head north through Black Fire Pass into Averland territory.
It possessed a relatively ineffective governance system, giving Al room to grow and expand.
Now, this already loose confederated kingdom was teetering on the brink of collapse due to the Greenskin impact.
With its relatively isolated position, Al's usurpation, annexation, and regime change would be less likely to attract the iron fist of Imperial intervention.
His main concerns would be the Elves and neighboring Tilea.
Its geographical location, surrounded by the sea on three sides, was perfect for expansion.
Developed commerce could bring massive wealth to the tribe, serving as capital for military expansion and strengthening.
More importantly: The two Southern Kingdoms, Estalia and Tilea.
Combined, these twin kingdoms—counting the massive number of travelers, merchants, immigrants, stowaways, exiles, mercenary bands, adventurers, and the untabulated population...
Counting every civilized, sapient being with two legs, four legs, and a head, as well as the numerous colonies across the Great Ocean and the New World...
They had a population of seven to eight million, nearly ten million.
A real, solid population, not one that exists with a stroke of a company editor's pen and vanishes when ignored.
Placed before the Great War, just looking at the sheer volume of this population, the two countries could have fully withstood the massive tide of the Everchosen's southern invasion.
If Al could annex them all, bring them under his control, and establish effective rule over them,
Al felt he would have a solid grasp on fighting the End Times.
Squeeze the Beastmen and humans to death for a hundred years, give it another two generations of time.
By then, pulling out an army of a million, he could absolutely clash with Archaon.
"Today my tribe boasts a million armored men and a thousand fine generals; how can the glowing rot of your false gods compare to the bright moon of the Four Mothers?" Like that.
The top lane is the super-resilient Celestial Empire of Cathay; the mid lane is the Elven Federation, unifying the three Elven races;
The AD carry is the Empire, the scions of Sigmar, the Light of Order for a millennium—often beaten but always rising at the critical moment.
The tribe could totally play the Jungler.
After all, the Beastmen's specialty and racial talent is rushing to put out fires wherever they start. Playing support and assists would be perfect.
After all, the human Empire has already begun industrialization, marching steadily toward the Victorian era.
With ten million bayonets and muskets handed out, how is Archaon's Void Army from the Warp supposed to fight that?
With a heavy-hitter like that on the Order side, how could they lose?
Al suddenly felt brimming with confidence and motivation.
He wished he could deploy troops tomorrow, enter Magritta the day after, march north to break the gates of Bilbali the day after that, and then unify the Southern Kingdom.
Then he'd submit a memorial to the Empire claiming them as a brother nation and forging an eternal alliance.
Finally, he'd play a mix of farming simulator and life simulator all the way to a grand victory at the End Times.
Thinking about "entering the pass," he still needed to make preparations in advance.
He hurriedly summoned Kael'thas and the members of the Blood Oath Brotherhood.
He also sent a magical message to the three-robed mages of the Scholar Council, indicating he had matters to discuss.
This matter of entering the pass wasn't just about whose blade was sharper.
Guides, public sentiment, where the cities, forts, and villages were concentrated, where the militia organizations were, which factions had hostile attitudes, which elites were willing to submit...
All these needed to be prepared in advance.
Al hoped that wherever his army went—even if the Estalian commoners didn't welcome them with food and drink—there would at least be loyalists and resistance forces flocking to join them.
Lay a solid foundation first.
In short:
Find collaborators for the tribe.
Conveniently, Al still had a large sum of aid sent by the Northern Council.
With nowhere to spend the gold, silver, and jewels, it would serve perfectly as funding for this project.
He had the great cause, the Kingdom's endorsement, and sweet incentives of gold and silver.
As long as he could guarantee military victory.
Al felt there shouldn't be many people who could resist being recruited with these three things.