Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

The Splendor Tower, a lighthouse standing tall in the vast ocean, has been a symbol since ancient times.

It guides all ships heading to Lorthorn and the Inner Sea—that light is the heart of the route, the bridge connecting sea and land, old and new.

But now, the entire tower is deserted. The sea guards who used to stand watch have all vanished. Only the howling sea wind and the mournful cries of seabirds in the distance remain, as if a funeral is being held for some unseen end. (Introduced in Chapter 736 of The Glorious Tower)

But that was just a moment ago.

The next moment, at the highest point of the lighthouse, a pillar supporting the dome began to tremble slightly, its surface undulating like the surface of water.

The distortion was extremely unnatural, as if the stone pillar was being erased from the dimension of reality bit by bit by some force. It was blurry, undulating, and irregularly shaped, seemingly about to disappear completely at any moment, but in the end, it did not.

Instead, the fluctuation solidified, and then a door slowly emerged from the pillar.

The outline of the door was initially dull and lifeless, then suddenly lit up with a silvery-gray glow, like a gap where shadow and reality intertwined, quietly tearing open the curtain of reality.

An elf stepped out of the door, his steps light yet carrying a hidden power.

He still had his signature dreadlocks, but unlike when he first met Dakos, his dreadlocks were now meticulously groomed, neat, smooth, and even reflected a faint metallic sheen in the dim light.

It wasn't dirty at all; on the contrary, it looked solemn and orderly.

He wore a brown-green robe, made of an old, heavy material, yet clean to the point of being austere.

His face was aged and resolute, with the deep marks of time etched upon it. Those symbols that seemed meaningless to humans flowed with an ancient rhythm on his body. On his throat, the emblem of Hoss was clearly visible; it was not a tattoo, but a mark of oath.

Even though he has lived for four thousand years, his body is still strong and muscular, with muscle lines hidden under his robe, like a mountain rock that has not been worn smooth by time.

This elf was none other than Asanok Vinnior, one of Darkus's close comrades and staunch supporters.

As he emerged, he let out a very untimely yawn, as if he had just woken from a long dream. His free hand, not holding the staff, casually rose to touch the corner of his eye, lazily wiping away non-existent eye boogers.

His demeanor, both playful and incredibly composed, made it difficult to tell whether he was simply tired and relaxed, or whether he was using this method to mask the seriousness that was about to unfold.

After he took a few steps, a second figure appeared.

Beloda White Wave, another close ally of Darkus, appeared like a tide quietly approaching the shore, both natural and carrying a certain undeniable force.

Then, more figures emerged one after another.

Adana, Veltrie, Heramar, Marin, River, Bel Tanya, Areda...

One by one, they emerged from the gate of light, each carrying a different aura. Then, a group of shadow hunters appeared from the gate, followed by a group of war dancers.

Finally, Ryan's daughter, Lylas, appeared.

After Lylas stepped out, the distorted facade began to collapse and shrink rapidly, disappearing completely after a few moments. The pillars returned to their previous appearance, as if nothing had happened.

Lylas stopped and turned to look at the pillar, her eyes filled with genuine amazement. Having spent many years in Ashriel, she was no stranger to Asanok's magic, but whenever Asanok used his signature move—the "Bridge of Shadows"—she still couldn't help but feel awe.

She still has a long way to go on her magical journey. Her Shadow Bridge can only teleport short distances, and to achieve something as effortless as Asanok's, crossing directly from the center of the lagoon to the Brilliant Tower, is beyond the scope of the Shadow Bridge.

It was a true portal, a connection between realms, an achievement in the magic system that was almost divine.

If she could have done that, perhaps during the Battle of the Anvil, the dragon wouldn't have just been grazed by her neck, but would have been completely killed.

It's not maybe, it's definitely true.

She thought this to herself, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes for a moment before disappearing.

Their population structure is complex, including Asley, Duruchi, Asur, and Enil. Their identities are equally complex, but none of that matters anymore.

This doesn't stop them from being here, or from standing shoulder to shoulder doing the same thing.

To be precise, it was the entire event.

A big job.

A grand event concerning life and death, light and shadow.

"Are we too early?"

Asanok emerged from the portal, his movements languid and his gaze unfocused, yet his steps never faltered. He walked to the railing, gently stroking the cool, sea-breezy metal bars, his eyes fixed on Lorthen in the distance. The city stood there like a silent boulder, shrouded in the shadows where sky and sea met.

He looked up again at the sky.

Rolling dark clouds were piling up, churning, and swirling there, as if an invisible hand was stirring the sky. At this moment, Lorthene was like a giant vortex, with all the wind, clouds, and fog converging towards the city. The speed of the rotation was astonishing; even those far away in the Brilliant Tower could clearly feel the wind direction changing.

Clearly, this is not a natural weather change, nor a natural storm.

The structure of those clouds, their flowing patterns, carried a clear intention, as if the entire sky had been forcibly designed.

That's absolutely true; this was Serene's doing.

At this moment, she is causing the entire celestial sphere to tilt according to her will.

“How about… we go back again and bring some picnic gear and food?” Bellorda suggested.

Her words were unanimously agreed upon by all the spellcasters present, who nodded and showed expressions that said, "You're absolutely right."

It really is early.

Arriving so early is outrageous.

It's like agreeing to meet at midnight, but arriving at eight o'clock; it's like a flight taking off at eight o'clock in the evening, but arriving at the airport with luggage to check in at eight o'clock in the morning.

It was so early it was absurd, so early that even God would question their concept of time.

But they merely nodded; no one was actually going back to get their things.

No one moved.

The only sounds in the air were the echoes of the wind and the waves.

Asanok was the first to resign himself to his fate. He plopped down on the ground in an extremely unladylike manner, loosened his robe belt, letting the fabric hang loosely, shrugged his shoulders, and let out a sigh of relief, looking as if to say, "Don't ask me to move."

Meanwhile, some Shadow Hunters and War Dancers went down to the bottom of the lighthouse to conduct an inspection, while the spellcasters above, having nothing to do and bored, began their daily training.

These spellcasters don't just stretch or take a leisurely stroll; their exercises are more complex and elaborate than yoga. Their bodies flow and intertwine, like a silent competitive performance.

Marlene wasn't afraid of Asanok's gaze. Her navy blue dress was lifted by the wind, as if aided by anti-gravity, fluttering lightly without revealing a single detail. She turned gracefully, her right leg rising, and with a somersault, she executed a perfect inverted split. Her left hand supported her on the ground, her body hanging upside down, her legs straight, the movement as fluid as flowing water.

Her composed elegance seemed not to be a gesture, but a statement of confidence.

The other spellcasters were equally competitive, engaging in a contest from a distance, speaking to each other but using the lines of their bodies to demonstrate precision and balance.

Gradually, the Shadow Hunters and War Dancers were also infected and joined in. In an instant, the entire lighthouse seemed to have become a huge warm-up field.

It's because they arrived early.

Arriving early means you've just finished a meeting or eaten something; arriving early means your morning exercise hasn't even started yet; time seems to stand still here, even the wind seems to slow down.

Unfortunately, the sun wasn't shining on them, so they couldn't stretch their bodies in the sunlight.

There was no vibrant morning air, only an ever-deepening darkness.

As Serene continued to exert her power, the light in the sky was shattered inch by inch.

Soon after, the sky turned completely dark, so dark it was almost as if night had fallen prematurely.

Unfortunately, the spring scenery before him held no appeal for Asanok, who had lived for thousands of years. He glanced at the graceful and astonishing figures, revealing an expression of utter understanding, even a hint of disdain.

His lips twitched slightly; he had no intention of joining. He glanced at it once, then looked away.

Despite having lived for thousands of years, his eyesight remained sharp. He saw a red dragon flying high in the sky, climbing upwards alone and resolutely, as if searching for some kind of purer breath. Its scales and armor plates reflected a faint red light, appearing and disappearing under the dark clouds.

Asanok stared for a moment, then silently shook his head.

It was understanding, it was感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion), and it was also the kind of silent sigh that this battle would ultimately have to be fought.

Then, he gently fell to the ground, and the next moment, he began to snore.

It was a loud, steady beat.

He's asleep...

Meanwhile, Dakous and Malekith walked side by side down the street.

Besides the two of them, only Tirya and Genevieve followed behind. There was no one else. After the meeting, everyone dispersed, busy with their own tasks and heading towards their own destiny.

Sure enough, in the short time that followed, Beloda, Ediana, and Veltrie, who were originally having a meeting in the Emerald Sea Palace, appeared at the Brilliant Tower.

That's the advantage of a raiding ship; it can go wherever it wants.

Kadjohn led the Phoenix Guards to defend Lorthene through foot combat. The Phoenix Guards were positioned as an elite reserve force, to join the battle when needed.

The so-called "when needed" refers to the moment the dragon lands, when flames and steel become one, and they will cooperate with the Duruchi soldiers and Asur Sea Guards to surround and kill the dragon.

The scene was a bit... a bit like the final battle during the Great Sundering, when Malekith, after the black dragon's death, got up from the ground and was surrounded by the Phoenix Guards wielding halberds...

It's really a bit like hell.

Meanwhile, Kohein led the White Lion Guards, whose role was similar to that of the Phoenix Guards—the ultimate force in crucial moments.

Phoenix Royal Court... undefended, a classic tactical gap.

"How are you feeling?" After taking a few steps, Darkus turned to look at Malekith's dragon armor and asked him.

“Not so great!” Malekith replied curtly, then curled his lip. “Wearing the armor my father wore, fighting against the sons of Caledon and dragons… that feeling.”

“Ah, my dear Malekith,” Darkus chanted in a mocking tone, as if reciting an ancient tragedy, with a hint of frivolous sarcasm, before adding sarcastically, “I should remind you that you are not wearing the Midnight Armor.”

Although Malekith knew that Dakous was teasing him, he didn't immediately realize what Dakous was referring to. It wasn't until Dakous pointed to his face that he understood, and his facial features instantly froze.

“You need to watch your expression and demeanor. If your expression is any more genuine, I might… actually believe you?” Darkus teased, gesturing with his hands, his tone exaggerated and rhythmic like a stage actor. As he finished speaking, he clenched his fists and raised his hands in front of him, his posture resembling that of someone about to perform a farce.

"Has no one ever told you that you are... despicable?"

Malekith spoke in a vicious tone, raising his left fist and clenching it so hard it cracked, the sound echoing through the empty street.

"Yes!" Dakota pretended to think, then nodded emphatically with an expression so serious it was almost comical.

"Who?" Malekith asked curiously, his tone carrying a forced restraint of irritation, as if he knew he was about to explode with anger.

"You!" Darkus looked at Malekith with a sincere expression, so sincere that it made you want to punch him.

"I!"

This time, Malekith finally couldn't hold back any longer and reached out to grab Darkus. The metallic scraping sound of armor rang out, dull and low, as if providing accompaniment to their foolish antics.

The scene was repeated once again: two people of extremely high status started fighting in the street, grabbing each other's necks like two teenagers, twisting and turning without regard for others.

Genevieve, who witnessed both instances, helplessly followed the movements of the two, silently sighing, "The wheels of history keep turning, and these two always seem to be struggling in front of them." Tirya, however, had a different perspective. In her view, this was the strongest two people before a decisive battle concerning the future, still retaining that humanity that made people both laugh and cry.

"How are you feeling?" After a moment of commotion, Darkus brought up the old question again.

This time, Malekith didn't respond immediately, but instead appeared to be thinking. His expression froze slightly, as if he were savoring the moment or searching for the right words. Then he glanced at Dakos, and seeing that Dakos hadn't taken the bait and was instead looking at him with a mocking expression, as if to say, "Go on, keep acting." So he gave a soft hum, concealing the bitter smile on his lips, and shifted his gaze to the distance of the street.

“It’s really not that great…” he murmured. “I was really looking forward to it at first, but after putting it on, it didn’t feel like what I hoped for. It’s as if this dragon armor has lost its soul, lost…” His voice trailed off, as if drawn by a memory. Finally, he sighed and slowly shook his head. “Do you know what that feeling is?”

The dragon armor Malekith wore was the same one his father, Inarion, had worn. That legendary armor had witnessed the glory of kings and the wrath of gods, and had been soaked in countless fires and bloodshed.

This is one of the reasons why Dess appeared at the Val Anvil.

In other words, he not only shamelessly stayed at his nephew's mansion, but also took away the dragon armor that his nephew had meticulously maintained for many years. However, he was at least reasonable; he left a meal as compensation and used the dragon armor he found in the Tower of Prophecy to compensate his nephew.

However, in Darkus's view, this was no different from transferring something from one hand to the other. But then again, there was nothing wrong with it; the dragon armor that Aenaryon had worn originally belonged to the Malthanath family.

Now, Malekith considers himself the patriarch and head of the Marsanas family. He puts on this armor not only for battle, but also as if he is having a dialogue with his past self and his father.

As for that meal replacement set, that's fine, what else? This set is different in nature from the one Darkus is currently wearing, so it wouldn't make sense for anyone to wear it.

It's like having only one piece of candy while the child has a whole bunch. Who gets it? No one gets it. And this isn't candy that can be swallowed quietly; it's armor you wear. You can't have one gauntlet and the other one breastplate.

That's dragon armor, and it's not Xiang Yu, the Hegemon of Chu.

Ah, the times!

Dakota nodded first, then looked up at the sky and chanted, his tone suddenly becoming solemn, with a touch of dramatic lament, "We live in this era, and this era is shaped by us, at least for me."

His voice echoed in the wind, accompanied by the dark clouds in the sky, sounding both resolute and mad, as if he were conversing with the heavens.

“Your era is too grand…” Malekith chuckled, his voice low yet carrying a warmth that seemed to touch him. Then, his expression turned serious, and the smile on his lips gradually faded. “But I will shape it alongside you. I will support you and see what the era you speak of truly looks like.” He paused, his tone even lower. “This is what keeps me going right now.”

Despite his sincere words, he did not receive a positive response from Dakota.

Seeing Darkus wiping his eyes, wiping away non-existent tears in an exaggerated manner as if he were acting on stage, several black lines immediately appeared on his forehead.

His fist clenched again at some point, and the metal armor made a faint creaking sound.

There was an ominous premonition in the air.

"You can adopt her as your goddaughter."

Seeing that Malekith was about to make another physical move, Darkus quickly changed the subject, his voice suddenly becoming calm.

"Goddaughter?" Malekith suddenly became interested, a hint of inquiry flashing in his eyes. "Like your family? Promoted?"

His tone was half playful and half serious; he was genuinely interested, with a complex interest that was both political and emotional.

“There is a difference…” Darkus pondered for a moment before saying thoughtfully.

"Is it permitted by the aristocratic law?" Malekith, having seized the initiative, teased, his voice carrying a hint of mockery, like a cat toying with a mouse that had lost its footing.

Upon hearing this, Dakous rolled his eyes. He really wanted to ask Malekith: You signed the Noble Law. Did you read it carefully before signing it?
But he ultimately suppressed his impulse, swallowing back the sarcastic remark that was on the tip of his tongue, and silently muttered to himself: Sure enough, some people are born actors.

“Mariest and Estrel are not here. I’ll talk to them when I see them.” After seeing Darkus disgusted by his words, Malekith laughed, then suppressed his laughter and said seriously.

Marist is Queen of Laurentloren, the rightful ruler of Laurentloren, a descendant of Malekith's half-brother, and a member of House Marsanas.

Estrel is the tenth Eternal Queen of Ulthuan. She is the descendant of Malekith's half-sister and is also a member of House Marsanas.

Marekis's meaning couldn't be clearer.

As for the goddaughter...

It refers to Tirya.

She was raised by Alisara back in Asheroron and served her until Alisara left for Nagarus. Though called a handmaiden, she was more like a daughter; this emotional bond was closer than blood ties and heavier than any oath.

Who is Alisara? (Chapter 113)
She is Marekis's wife.

The circle has remained unchanged...

No matter how many years pass, even if the crown has long since cracked, those names, those families, those threads of fate are still intertwined, and no one can escape them.

Seeing that Malekith had made his decision, Darkus didn't say anything more. After all, this was Malekith's family matter, and he was an outsider. The reason he brought it up earlier was merely to change the subject.

But then again, he really wanted to hear about this.

If he could, he really wanted to see what it would be like to see Marekis, the father of the Ty brothers, Marist, and Estrel sitting together for a family meeting.

The mere thought of that scene is enough to make one laugh.

Unfortunately, his surname was Helban, not Marsanas.

This means that he had no reason to be present, and would never be at such a table; Gilead's presence was more justifiable than his.

The claim that he is Malekith's illegitimate son is a maliciously fabricated rumor; the person who first fabricated it is long dead. With the advent of the new era, no one talks about it anymore.

Ah, another day of remembering Lacas. On the day he died, he roared and lunged forward, but was ultimately killed by the Black Guard.

After taking a couple of steps, he looked at the car that appeared at the street corner. It wasn't a fire truck or a transport vehicle, but a field kitchen truck.

The appearance of the field mess trucks meant it was time to eat, and the soldiers who had been hiding in the mansions on both sides of the street poured out like a tide.

After taking a look, he, Malekith, and the soldiers who appeared on the street all looked up at the sky.

There's no way around it, this scene was just too shocking.

The raiding ship has taken off.

Not one, not ten, not even dozens, but hundreds. The dense array of ships drew black streaks across the sky, like sharp blades piercing the heavens.

Three thousand sea eagles? Eight hundred warships?
The raiding ship, though called a ship, was actually an aircraft.

If it were a ship, it would certainly exceed the standard of a Mengchong 800, but this ship is a bit small, as small as a densely packed swarm of bees, yet it contains destructive power.

Just like that ranking, the North Koreans once had a huge number of ships, an astonishingly high number, even ranking first. But unfortunately, those were all small boats like torpedo boats and patrol boats.

However, as an aircraft, the Seagull Three Thousand does not meet the standards.

But whether it's three thousand or eight hundred, the number nine hundred and thirty is already huge enough.

As someone in the know, Darkus knew that nine hundred and thirty raiding ships would participate in the battle today. Beside him, Malekith stood silently, his gaze deep, as if looking at the sky or the future.

It was the expression of an emperor—calm to the point of being cold, yet burning with an indescribable determination deep within.

Is it a lot? No, not much.

Is it an exaggeration? No, it's not.

This number looks huge and sounds frightening, but upon closer inspection, it's actually not outrageous.

There are no tens of thousands of Phoenix Guards, so the hundreds of thousands of troops stationed at the northern stronghold of Nagalus are simply outrageous and inconceivable.

As is well known, Krakarond is currently the world's largest city, with 160 million people living there. After nearly sixty years of development, Nagarus' population has exploded from an initial 76 to 380 million without any outside influx of people.

This is still Nagaroth, not even counting Ashriel.

If we're talking about one in a thousand, then out of 380 million people, there are 3800 "ones"—that's the advantage of a large population. A large population means a solid foundation, meaning more gold can be sifted out from the mud and sand.

The issue is……

The occurrence rate of second vision is far from being as low as one in a thousand. The Academy of Arts has calculated that on average, there are 2.5 second visions out of every 100 people.

Let's break it down and see what this means.
Unfortunately, spellcasters need to be trained; they are developed in tiers and cannot be recruited all at once. They are also distributed across different locations and battlefields. Some places require guard duty, while others need to act as mentors in the rear, training newcomers. They need to be distributed across different battlefields and dispersed across various industries to engage in production.

They are the system, the structure, the interlocking parts of a massive machine.

Moreover, while there are enough raiding ships, there aren't enough arcane orbs. They've used up all their reserves from the past fifty years.

Fortunately, the magical winds are continuous, so I can keep drawing them. I had them before, I have them now, and as for the future…

Furthermore, although the battlefield is in the air, the aerial battlefield is not as large as one might imagine. While aerial combat may appear vast and boundless, it is actually layered and spatially limited. It involves tactics, fighting methods, distance, wind speed, formations, who has more or less troops, who takes off first, and who provides cover for whom.

Otherwise, that surprise attack on Moras...

Looking back at the number nine hundred and thirty, how much is it?

And this is just the raiding ship.

The Twilight Sisters, Indra, Azsalion, and Arslan were also present at the meeting. They weren't just extras; they represented the power behind them and were the commanders. Besides them, there were also Cupakko and Tictato, who had remained in Lor'then, ready to add the finishing touches.

Of course, Alalos was just there to make up the numbers.

In addition, there is the Red Dragon...

This is why Duruci hosted this dinner and invited Caledo to dine there.

What's that saying again? I cooked a table full of dishes, but two tables of guests showed up. How am I supposed to eat like this?
But now the situation is the opposite. I hosted a banquet, but only one table of guests came. How am I supposed to collect the gift money?
"You wiped out 470,000 of our troops in just 52 days... My division commander's position was no more than 500 meters from your main position... Where did you get so many shells? I fired nearly 10,000 shells, and all the shells I carried were used up, I thought..."

"We manufactured them ourselves! One of our factories produced 20,000 rounds last year."

Although we don't know what timeline the American-made 122mm howitzer came from, the statement is correct. The game is in the hands of outsiders; before either side has even made a move, you've already lost.

The sheer number of raiding ships perfectly embodies the idiom "decision-making from afar".

Some battles have their outcome decided long before they even begin.

Making decisions from afar refers not only to having a large number of people and sufficient resources, but also to the ability of a system to be deployed in time and space. When the opponent can lay out these cards before the battle, no matter how hard the soldiers on the front line fight, they will find it difficult to reverse the predetermined course.

The land wasn't planted for nothing. Once the system starts operating, the accumulated power will grow at an astonishing rate. The snowball effect is not accidental, but an inevitable consequence of the structure.

A sudden gust of wind appeared, starting lightly but then abruptly becoming very strong. Witnessing this shocking scene, Darkus felt the raiding ship climb even faster.

Just like...

The arrival of the wind was like a sudden change in the theater lighting, abruptly pulling the audience back to reality. The raiding fleet rose higher in the wind, like clusters of black arrows piercing the sky, their speed and density increasing together, the visual impact making one's chest tighten.

"The wind is picking up," he murmured.

“Stop daydreaming, we need to get ready too.” Malekith, snapping out of his daze, patted Darkus on the shoulder. When Darkus came to his senses, Malekith glanced at him with disdain. “How about we make a bet?”

"What are we betting on?" Darkus asked as he reached out, and the next second, a trident appeared in his hand.

"Let's see who gets the highest kill count..."

"Nonsense!" (End of Chapter)