Reasons for Choosing

"All four of you, come at me together."

Tryndamere's hand on Ashe's shoulder made the four young tribesmen's eyes bulge with rage.

"How dare you touch the War Mother! You truly are a savage, with no manners!"

"And you want us four to fight you? Utterly arrogant!"

Tryndamere remained silent, slowly drawing the great cleaver from behind his back.

The wound inflicted by Ato had already healed, leaving no scar, making it impossible for outsiders to detect any abnormality.

Just as he prepared to face his opponents, he suddenly felt an unprecedented surge.

He found it difficult to describe in words, only feeling an intense craving for battle, a nameless rage surging in his heart, wanting to tear the opponents before him to shreds.

"It's taking effect," Ato muttered to himself.

"The flesh and blood magic has granted him regenerative abilities. Combined with his naturally powerful physique, even against the Bear Tribe, you'd need over a dozen men to hope to defeat him."

"But it will also affect his mind. His rage will continuously grow during combat. If he can't break free, he'll become a complete lunatic."

"A pity, he's ultimately just a mortal human," Aatrox finally found an opportunity to interject. "Otherwise, he would have been a decent opponent."

"It's about to begin. Let's see our results. As long as the Avalosan tribe can become strong, they will be a powerful force for humanity to rely on when confronting our common enemy."

Ashe, standing behind Tryndamere, no longer intervened in the conflict between him and her subordinates.

Three years had passed since she left the Winter's Claw, became War Mother, and began developing the Avalosan tribe.

During these three years, besides the initial hearth-keepers, many strong young men had pledged allegiance to her.

Her beauty and kindness had earned Ashe the favor of many, who wished to become one of Ashe's Blood Pacts.

It was important to note that leaders usually sought Blood Pacts for personal gain, viewing them as tools. True emotional connection was rare.

Therefore, when they encountered someone they could develop feelings for, even if one-sided, they were willing to pledge themselves as Blood Pacts, one after another.

But Ashe had never chosen anyone, which greatly frustrated the young men in the tribe, leaving them waiting for an opportunity.

What if she changes her mind one day? Blood Pacts are essential for a tribe; she'll have to make a choice eventually.

Besides, I've never seen a leader with only one Blood Pact. We all have a chance!

Ashe knew that many within the tribe harbored such thoughts. Her reason for not choosing a Blood Pact was that she did not want to become like her mother, Grelna!

Grelna was cold, stubborn, and ruthless. It was precisely because she had influenced Sejuani too deeply that it ultimately led to Ashe and Sejuani parting ways.

Grelna's attitude towards her Blood Pacts was also casual.

Before her death, there were five living members of the Blood Pact, and each member was an Oath Father to Ashe.

In Ashe's memory, when she was young, other Oath Fathers had died protecting the tribe at the hands of enemy Factions. She couldn't recall the exact number of Oath Fathers she had.

Ashe remembered some Oath Fathers fawning over her mother in an attempt to elevate their tribe's status.

Her mother, however, had accepted their solicitations without a second thought.

Ashe detested the smug expressions of those successful Oath Fathers, and even more so, she detested her mother, who treated the Oath Fathers as mere tools.

Now that Ashe had become War Mother, the men's fawning had shifted to herself.

Every time Ashe saw their veiled hints, the images of her mother and the Oath Fathers naturally surfaced in her mind, filling Ashe with disgust.

Then, the barbarian who suddenly appeared before her, his eyes devoid of greed for profit and filled only with concern for his tribe's survival, his strong physique unlike anything she had ever seen, she felt the time was right.

"In the end, did I also choose a Blood Pact for my own benefit?" Ashe sighed inwardly. She refused to admit it was her mother's way; this was all for the tribe's stability.

She believed Tryndamere could defeat all the young men within the tribe; it was Ashe's intuition.

"After accepting Tryndamere, I'll have a reason to reject others' advances, as I already have a Blood Pact and won't be considering another for now."

"He's so strong, he can enhance the tribe's strength. We won't have to worry as much about attacks from beasts or other tribes."

"Besides, it's called a Blood Pact, but no one dictates that a War Mother and her Blood Pact must do anything. It's just a title. Yes, just a title."

Just as Ashe was lost in her internal conflict, the battle between Tryndamere and the tribe's young men had already begun.

A sudden, inexplicable rage made Tryndamere increasingly uncomfortable. A hint of cruelty entered his eyes as he stared at the opponent charging at him, raising his greatsword to meet the attack.

Clang!

The weapons met with a crisp sound. In just one exchange, the young tribesman's hand cracked, blood flowing from his mouth as he retreated step by step.

However, before he could even process his shock, Tryndamere's assault continued. He barely managed to raise his weapon to block, but with each parry, he was forced back several steps.

Tryndamere gripped the hilt with both hands, employing only one method of attack: raising his blade and bringing it down.

The young tribesman was solely focused on blocking the attacks and didn't notice that Tryndamere had chopped down more than a dozen times, all at the same spot!

Crack!

The longsword in the young tribesman's hand snapped under the relentless assault. Tryndamere's greatsword, now unimpeded, descended mercilessly, leaving a gash deep enough to see bone on the young man.

Blood splattered onto Tryndamere. The young tribesman's eyes widened, seemingly not yet comprehending the severity of his injuries or the vast gap between himself and Tryndamere.

He collapsed powerlessly to the ground. The wound was so long and deep that blood flowed uncontrollably, dyeing the snow beneath him a deep crimson.

"Quick, take him to the shaman!" Ashe reacted first, followed by two villagers in fur coats rushing out from the village.

They carried stretchers, bringing the severely wounded young tribesmen to the Frost Priests for emergency treatment.

Ashe hadn't expected Tryndamere to be this formidable!

She wasn't worried about the young man's life; the Frost Priests' magic would heal him.

"Is it enough now? He's qualified to become my Blood Pact..."

Ashe decided to end the fight. She had achieved the effect she wanted. Tryndamere and his people would become Avalosans. She didn't want to see infighting among her own people.

"Kill this Monster!"

The other three young tribesmen who had come out with Ashe seemed provoked. They drew their weapons and attacked Tryndamere!

Tryndamere, who was forcefully suppressing his rage, saw this. A layer of red instantly covered his pitch-black eyes. He picked up his greatsword again, his expression ferocious.