The Reason for Choosing

"You four, come at me together."

The way Tryndamere had draped an arm over Ashe's shoulder made the four young tribesmen's eyes blaze with fury.

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

"And you want all four of us to fight you at once? You're unbelievably arrogant!"

Tryndamere said nothing. He silently drew the greatsword from his back.

The wound Ato had cut into his chest had already healed, without even leaving a scar. No one looking at him could tell anything was wrong.

Just as he readied himself to face his opponents, he suddenly felt a thrill unlike anything he had experienced before.

He couldn't put it into words. He only knew that he desperately wanted to fight, and an inexplicable fury surged through him, urging him to tear his opponents apart.

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

"Flesh Magic gave him the ability to heal himself. Combined with his naturally powerful physique, he could take on even the Bearman Tribe. You'd need at least a dozen of them to beat him."

"But it will affect his mind, too. His anger will keep growing during battle. If he can't pull himself back from it, he'll become a complete madman."

"Pity. He's still only an ordinary human," Aatrox finally found a chance to interject. "Otherwise, he'd make a decent opponent."

"Here we go. Let's see what we've accomplished. If the Avarosa Tribe can grow strong, humanity will have another powerful force to stand against our common enemy."

Ashe stood behind Tryndamere and no longer tried to stop him from clashing with her people.

Three years had passed since she left Winter's Claw, became a War Mother, and began building the Avarosa Tribe.

In those three years, many strong young people had joined her, in addition to the Hearthborn who had followed her at the beginning.

Her beauty and kindness made many people fond of Ashe. They hoped to become one of her Blood Pacts.

Most leaders sought Blood Pacts for their own benefit, treating them as tools. Only rarely did they develop genuine feelings for them.

So when people found someone they could truly care for, even if those feelings were one-sided, they were willing to come forward one after another and become that person's Blood Pact.

But Ashe had never chosen anyone, leaving the young people in the tribe deeply frustrated as they waited for their chance.

Maybe she'd change her mind someday. Blood Pacts were essential to a tribe, and sooner or later, she'd have to choose.

Besides, no leader had ever had only one Blood Pact. We all have a chance!

Ashe knew that many people in the tribe held such hopes. The reason she hadn't chosen a Blood Pact was that she didn't want to become like her mother, Grelna!

Grelna had been cold, stubborn, and ruthless. Her profound influence on Sejuani had ultimately driven Ashe and Sejuani apart.

Grelna had also treated her Blood Pacts casually.

When she died, five of her Blood Pacts were still alive, and each one was Ashe's Oath Father.

Ashe remembered that when she was little, other Oath Fathers had died defending the tribe against their enemies. She couldn't remember exactly how many Oath Fathers she'd had.

She remembered a few of them currying favor with her mother to improve their tribe's standing.

And her mother had accepted their fawning without a second thought.

Ashe hated the smug expressions on those Oath Fathers' faces, and she hated her mother even more for treating them like nothing but tools.

Now Ashe was a War Mother, and men were trying to curry favor with her.

Whenever Ashe caught their veiled hints, the image of her mother and her Oath Fathers would surface in her mind, and she would feel sick.

But the savage who had suddenly appeared before her showed no greed for personal gain. He cared only about his people's survival. He was also the strongest-looking man she had ever seen. Ashe felt the time had come.

Am I choosing a Blood Pact for personal gain after all? Ashe thought with a sigh. She didn't want to admit that she was acting like her mother. This was all for the tribe's stability.

She believed Tryndamere could defeat every young warrior in the tribe. It was a gut feeling.

"Once I accept Tryndamere, I'll have a reason to turn down everyone else's advances. I already have a Blood Pact, so I won't be considering another one for now."

"He's so strong that he'll make the tribe stronger. If we're attacked by beasts or another tribe, we won't have to worry as much."

"Besides, even if he's my Blood Pact, there's no rule that says a War Mother and her Blood Pact have to do anything together. It's just a title. Yes, just a title."

Ashe was still wrestling with her thoughts when Tryndamere and the young tribesmen began to fight.

The inexplicable fury made Tryndamere feel increasingly uneasy. A trace of cruelty crept into his eyes as he stared at his charging opponent and raised his greatsword to meet him.

"Clang!"

Their weapons clashed with a sharp ring. In a single exchange, the young tribesman's grip split open and blood poured from his hand as he staggered backward.

Before he could even recover from his shock, Tryndamere attacked again. He barely managed to raise his weapon to block, and each blow forced him several steps back.

Tryndamere gripped the sword with both hands and used only one attack: raising it and bringing it down in a powerful chop.

The young tribesman could only focus on blocking. He failed to notice that Tryndamere had struck the exact same spot more than a dozen times!

"Crack!"

The long sword in the young tribesman's hands snapped under the relentless blows. With nothing left to obstruct it, Tryndamere's greatsword came down mercilessly, leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash across the young man's body.

Blood sprayed across Tryndamere. The young tribesman's eyes were wide with shock, as if he still hadn't realized how badly he was hurt—or how vast the gap between him and Tryndamere was.

He collapsed helplessly. The wound was long and deep, and the blood wouldn't stop flowing. The snow beneath him was stained bright red.

"Get him to the priest right away!" Ashe was the first to react. Two villagers in fur coats ran out of the village.

They carried the badly wounded tribesman on a stretcher to the Frost Priest for urgent treatment.

Ashe hadn't expected Tryndamere to be so powerful!

She wasn't worried that the young man would die. The Frost Priest's magic would heal him.

"That should be enough, right? He's qualified to become my Blood Pact..."

Ashe decided to end the fight. She had seen what she wanted to see, and Tryndamere and his people would all become Avarosans. She didn't want to see her own people fight among themselves.

"Kill the monster!"

But the other three young tribesmen who had come out with Ashe seemed to have snapped. They drew their weapons and attacked Tryndamere!

Tryndamere had been forcing down his anger, but at the sight of this, his dark eyes instantly turned red. He raised his greatsword again, his expression twisted with rage.