With the psychic warning still ringing in his head and Thal's limited knowledge, Al didn't push the historical questions further.
He had a gut feeling that there was a massive conspiracy behind this "victory."
A plot!
Thal had traveled the world in his youth.
He claimed to have participated in a "Beastman Rights Movement" in an Elven colony, only to be crushed by a Dark Elf Admiral.
Disappointed by leaders who sold out their kin to the Elves, he converted to the "Natural Balance" sect of the World-Shepherd.
He brought a small group of Beastmen to Estalia, settling near the Revelers tribe to monitor their Slaaneshi corruption.
Here was the bizarre part.
Usually, Order-aligned gods and their followers want to wipe Chaos off the map.
But Thal believed that Chaos and Order, Corruption and Purity, were all parts of a "Natural Harmony."
If one side became too strong, the world would lose its balance.
So, Thal stayed nearby to "monitor and suppress" the corruption, rather than destroy it.
What is this, the Medieval Order of the Kinkou? Al thought.
He was deeply disturbed by Thal's logic.
The idea that Chaos could be "controlled" or "balanced" was a heresy that usually ended with a Bolter round to the head.
But Al wasn't an Inquisitor; he just wanted to survive.
He wasn't even sure what he was. He was born in a tribe, raised by a Centigor, and grew at a supernatural rate.
Alina brought him a spread of food: weird dried meats, strange fruits, and that familiar-tasting milk.
He ate while chatting with Thal, who was surprisingly patient with the boy.
Thal shared common knowledge and basic lore, happy to educate the "child."
But as Al looked at the Shaman's kind, elderly face, a terrifying thought struck him.
If Thal seeks balance between Order and Chaos... and Chaos is currently losing...
Does he see me as a new 'weight' for the Chaos side of the scale?
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Al was a "Order-aligned" soul at heart—minus his horniness—who hated Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch, and Slaanesh.
But Alina called him the son of the "Blood Mother."
A seductive voice in his head called him "her son."
And his protector, Alina, was arguably Lawful Evil or Chaotic Neutral at best.
Then there was his biological mother, a Sigmar-worshiping Knight.
The score was 3 to 1 in favor of Chaos.
If the End Times had truly been won by Chaos, Al would probably be a rising star like Sigvald the Magnificent.
But if Order won, Al was a dead man walking.
In the Old World, a "Dark Lord" wouldn't be hunted by bikini-clad "Kuh-Shat" female knights or incompetent mages.
He'd be hunted by Legendary Dwarf Slayers who solo Giants.
Elite Huntsmen who can put an arrow through a pinhole from a mile away.
Living Saints who tank cannonballs with their bare skin.
Witch Hunters who use every dirty trick in the book to burn the "unclean."
And giant, bald Sigmarite priests who call down hammers from heaven.
Thal mentioned that after the Great War, nature flourished; dragons were waking up everywhere to guard Elven lands.
If Al turned into a Chaos Champion, he'd face a saturated bombardment of dragon fire and holy light.
Even Archaon couldn't tank that forever.
NOPE!
The thought of being burned to ash, captured by "Battle Sisters" with arms thicker than his thighs, or being roasted on a spit for Sigmar was too much.
"I am irreconcilable with Chaos!" Al almost shouted it out loud.
Thal, unaware of Al's internal panic, continued to introduce "tribal delicacies":
A bread made of seeds that had been "softened" through a goat-girl's digestive tract and then fermented.
Al politely declined.
Despite his bizarre theology, Thal was a decent old man—a "venerable elder" in any other culture.
As long as people weren't trying to kill him, Al considered them "good."
Suddenly, Alina's hand clamped down on Al's head.
He looked up, confused.
The Centigor tilted her head, her beautiful, mature face looking uncharacteristically blank.
"My hammer... it is vibrating."
Al froze, momentarily terrified that she was a secret Witch Hunter sensing his "taint."
"Blood must flow..." she whispered, then suddenly screamed:
"WAR IS COMING!"
A manic, ecstatic grin spread across Alina's face.
She snatched Al up and tucked him under her arm, grabbing her massive hammer with the other.
The Wrath-Gors around them caught the scent of slaughter.
They raised their greatswords and cleavers, roaring at the sky.
"The Blood Mother's will has been spoken: This land shall see the blade!"
The Centigor galloped out of the settlement, carrying the bewildered boy.
She let out a booming, joyful laugh that echoed across the plains.
"In the name of our Furious Mother, the Queen of Rage—"
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD MOTHER! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"
The horizon was swallowed by black clouds, and thunder rolled like the drums of war.
The Great Goddess watching through Al's eyes was impatient to see the world bleed once again.