Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

The sight of the Silver Moon Dragon startled the seafood feast that was maneuvering underwater. The moment the Silver Moon Dragon plunged into the water, the enormous impact created a wall of water that seemed capable of swallowing everything. Waves of boiling, churning water shook the nearby structures, causing them to groan.

And then, that was the end of it.

The moment it fell into the water, the silver moon dragon stopped struggling.

His wings drooped loosely, his tail weakly slapped the water twice, and then he completely disappeared into the sea. His huge body slowly turned underwater, his silvery-white scales reflecting the last rays of light. The light shone in from the broken surface of the water and was refracted back by the scales, forming a flowing dance of light belonging to death.

Finally, he sank into the depths, like a fallen moonstone, and sat on the seabed.

Strings of bubbles overflowed from his mouth and nose, their trails meandering and slow, as if his soul were leaving his body and rising into the deep blue.

Although blood was spreading on the sea surface, the crimson did not bring the sea back to calm. The waves continued to rise and fall, but the rhythm became heavier and duller, as if the ocean was mourning some lost glory.

Next, a Sundra, whose flight path was to the upper left of the Silvermoon Dragon, was also hit by the crossbow bolt. The arrow pierced through its already thin scales, and the Sundra let out a throat-ripping roar, with dragonfire spewing intermittently from its throat like a burning incantation.

He struggled to flap his wings, but ultimately could not hold on, drawing a brilliant plummeting arc in the air, and following the Silver Moon Dragon, he also plunged into the sea.

Unlike the dragon prince on the back of the Silvermoon Dragon, the dragon prince on the back of the Blazing Sun Dragon was not hit by the crossbow bolt.

Just before the Fiery Dragon was about to plunge into the sea, he screamed frantically, but that didn't stop him from opening the fasteners in front of him. His movements were clean and swift, without any hesitation.

However, the instant he took his first step forward, in that fleeting moment, the sea suddenly cracked open, and a deep-sea steed, like a flying fish roaming among the drifting islands, leaped out of the water, the splashing droplets scattering like shattered silver, appearing beside him.

Fenafen's surname is Star Dragon, and his family sword is called the "Dragon Sword." In another timeline, he was the commander of two dragon ships. Although he has many connections with dragons, he is not a mere lip service to dragons.

Conversely, when fighting dragons, as a follower of Matheran, his hands were steadyer than anyone else's, and his heart was colder than the icy sea. He showed no mercy, even with a kind of almost pious restraint.

In the previous battle, he used the Deepsea Steed's unique mobility and the almost telepathic familiarity between them to quickly approach the tail of a Sundra.

He completed the movements almost instinctively, calculating in his mind the rhythm of the water flow, the frequency of the dragon's wing flapping, and the direction of the ocean current. Then, he precisely threw out the heavy chain, which wrapped around the dragon's tail.

The sound of the chain tightening was like the plucking of a string of fate.

As the captain of the Trident Bearers, his main weapon is a trident that is about 1.5 meters long.

The weapon was almost an extension of him, cold, silent, and deadly.

The moment the Deepsea Steed leaped out of the water, the spray seemed to freeze in time. Fenafen's gaze pierced through the splashing mist, fixing on the dragon prince. At that instant, he vaguely sensed that he seemed to have seen him somewhere before.

A meeting? A banquet? Or some boring hunt?
He recognized the face, but he didn't have time to think about it, nor did he want to.

no point!
At this moment, the ocean can only tolerate killing, not friendship.

As the Deepsea Steed leaped to its zenith, just as it was about to extend its leg and kick the opponent's helmet, the trident pierced out with a fierce thrust.

However, the Dragon Prince was no pushover.

He immediately turned his head to dodge, drawing his sword almost simultaneously in an attempt to counterattack. But the thrust came too fast, too fierce, so fast that the reaction itself seemed superfluous.

A flash of cold light, and the sound of metal piercing flesh was short and clear amidst the roar of the waves. One of the secondary spikes on the two sides of the trident pierced his left eye and went into the eye socket.

With a bloodcurdling scream, blood sprayed into the air and splattered onto the scales of the Deep Sea Steed.

The next second, the Deepsea Steed disappeared beneath the surface of the sea once more, along with the dragon prince. Its movements were incredibly fast, so fast that Finafin didn't have time to flip the trident and retrieve it, so fast that the noble-blooded body didn't even have a chance to struggle before being dragged into the sea by the trident.

Then, to put it simply, the sharks came running because they smelled it.

Further along the course, after the previous Sun Dragon, another Sun Dragon's wing was struck. She struggled, her wings flapping violently against the air, creating a chaotic gust of wind. Instinctively, she tried to regain her balance, to avoid falling, and to find a way out.

Unfortunately, she realized she might have been too rash. That realization came too late; she was too late to understand that she was already in a dilemma.

Retreat was not an option; she was a dragon, not a flying machine. Advancing was also not an option; fierce ballistae awaited her ahead, their arms already fully drawn, the bolts emitting a low, trembling sound, as if ready to nail her to the sky at any moment.

She can only turn, that is, maneuver, make a sharp turn, leave this place, and go back to where she came from.

But the air was too thick, the space too narrow, and the wind pressure too heavy. Her enormous body struggled to twist and turn in the limited space, like a warship trying to turn around.

Youth and inexperience were fully exposed and displayed to the fullest extent at this moment.

Actually, there are other solutions...

If she had been calmer, if she had been able to read the direction of the air currents, if she had more flying experience, or if she had heard the warnings her fellow pilots were sending out in the wind, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

In that split second of making the decision, in that moment of being suspended in mid-air, her vulnerable abdomen was exposed.

It was a smooth, scaled surface, unprotected by heavy armor or the shelter of a wind-swept figure. Before she could even turn, six crossbow bolts appeared in her abdomen. These bolts, with terrifying power and precision, pierced through scales, bones, and flesh, producing a low, resonant impact, like the continuous tolling of bells.

One of the crossbow bolts struck her heart.

At that moment, her movements suddenly froze, and the golden light in her eyes abruptly went out, as if her soul had been instantly ripped away.

But she didn't just crash straight into the sea.

Because behind her was a blazing sun dragon.

Her sudden stop and uncontrolled descent caught the Fiery Dragon behind her off guard.

The blazing sun dragon was charging forward, its wings blazing like flames, intending to reach the ballista positions and unleash its dragon breath attack. However, a massive obstacle appeared before it—the corpses of its own kind.

It was a chain reaction that happened in an instant.

The charging Sun Dragon had no time to adjust; the wind direction shifted, the airflow broke, and all its calculations vanished in an instant. Unable to dodge, it crashed straight into the already lifeless Sun Dragon in front of it.

This impact nearly destroyed his entire flight attitude.

His position occupied the spot of the instantly silent Blazing Sun Dragon, and a piercing sound of wind breaking instantly erupted in the air, the sound of dragon scales rubbing against each other like stones colliding.

Then, he was hit by a crossbow that was still firing.

Just before the impact, the dragon mage, who was still casting a spell on his back, was interrupted. The spell, which was about to take shape, was abruptly cut off, and the energy exploded in the air, intertwining into a brief vortex.

The last syllable of that incantation turned into his terrified scream before his death.

Even faster than the backlash from the magic came the crossbow bolts!
The crossbow bolt struck him squarely in the head and exploded almost instantly.

And so, the two blazing sun dragons became entangled, falling into the sea together like a ball about to hit the ground. Water splashed high, the waves rumbled under the weight of the dragons, and the spray, carrying scales and blood bubbles, spread in all directions.

In just a short while, the first flying formation to rush in, consisting of one Silver Moon Dragon and three Blazing Sun Dragons, was completely wiped out.

To be honest, their actions were far too reckless and overconfident. To put it simply, without the sea gate, the waterway was no different from a canyon. Like a classic scene from a certain play, they rashly entered ambush territory without reconnaissance, and thus, these dragons were predictably ambushed.

"Load! Quick! Load! Fire another round!"

After running out of ammunition, Haiwei, who was in charge of firing, looked up at the sky and then roared hoarsely. As he roared, he left his firing position and looked up at the sky again.

During the brief firing session, this seaman achieved a glorious feat that, if he lived to see today, he could boast about for the rest of his life, until he died. It was the kind of achievement that people would keep talking about even when wrinkles covered their faces and their teeth fell out.

If the coastal regions of the Kingdom of Itien hadn't lacked the tradition and culture of land burial, they might even have inscribed today's achievements on their tombstones. Those who come to the cemetery to pay their respects might stop, look at these words with disbelief, and murmur in amazement, "There really was such a person."

They might discuss his firing angle, the draw weight of the ballista, guess the wind speed at that moment, and then shake their heads in amazement.

And his soul, lingering near the guiding stone, would let out a triumphant laugh.

He struck the Silver Moon Dragon in the left eye and the Fiery Sun Dragon in the chest...

It's fair to say he bears a significant responsibility for the deaths of the Silver Moon Dragon and the three Fiery Sun Dragons. There was no way around it; his position was at the very front, and his skills were indeed exceptional.

The right time, the right place, and the right people all came together.

The two sea guards operating the winch paused for a moment, but only for a moment, less than a breath. Then, they leaned forward and, with machine-like speed, pulled out the empty magazine.

The sound of metal colliding with metal was crisp yet rapid.

"This is not what we agreed on before!"

While their hands were busy, they didn't forget to complain, one of the guards muttered.

The moment the words fell, Haiwei, carrying the magazine, stepped forward, lifted it, and aligned it with the groove.

The three worked in perfect unison, their movements incredibly fast, like a scene rehearsed hundreds or even thousands of times. With a sudden push, the magazine was inserted, the sound of metal gears meshing like a short cheer. Then, they whirled the winch, tightening the crossbow string with a piercing creak.

"Look at the sky!" Haiwei, who was in charge of firing, said before returning to his position. As he adjusted the ballista, he roared, "Watch the sky!"

Like Bellorda and Veltrie, the Sea Guards fighting on both sides of the shipping lane also have two phases and two sets of tactics.

If the dragon is attacking from the direction of the vast ocean and trying to pass through the shipping lane, then we will launch an attack using ballistae, just like we are now. This is the first phase.

The second phase is—fight if you can, run if you can't!
Well, the key is flexibility.

There was no such thing as holding a position to the death, no such thing as being locked in a bunker, and no such thing as heroism in fighting to the last moment.

This is not the kind of situation where chaos erupts as soon as someone runs through a military formation.

This is a battle position, a scattered artillery position, not a stage for a theatrical performance.

Not running? Then what are we waiting for? To get sprayed by the dragon? Or are we going to have some barbecue?
There was a thick fireproof door ten meters to the side of the battle position. The artillery crew had discussed before the battle that they would only fire one magazine.

After firing, they abandoned the ballista and ran away.

Run behind the fire door, close it, and then tighten the turntable on the fire door.

At that moment, they were safe, at least in theory.

This is why, even though they should have left, the other gun crew members hesitated for a moment when Haiwei, who was in charge of firing, called for reloading.

This is not what we agreed on beforehand!

They're not doing things according to plan!

This isn't going according to plan!

There was a reason why Haiwei shouted for loading instead of abandoning the ballista and running away. Besides being the person in charge of this position, everything that was happening at this moment was completely different from all the pre-battle expectations, and it could even be said that it completely exceeded all the pre-battle simulations.

In Duruci and Asur's prediction, the dragon might enter the shipping lane, or it might not. But if the dragon did enter the shipping lane, there was a high probability that it would provide high-altitude cover.

They had simulated that scenario countless times in sand table exercises: the dragon horde flying above the airway would launch a low-altitude dive, using its blazing dragon breath to cover the battle positions, burning all threats in the airway to ashes.

However, this is not the case in reality.

At least so far, the sea guards responsible for firing have not seen it.

There was no high-altitude cover, no roaring dragon breath pouring down, no sky burning like a purgatory; there was only the oppressive atmosphere of the heavens and the figure of the giant dragon high above.

This is precisely why he decided to keep shooting, to fire another round...

Another deeper reason is that the dragon fleet that entered the shipping lane has become disjointed.

To what extent are we disconnected?
Even after the ballista ran out of ammunition, it still had time to reload and attack the following, delayed flight formation.

Another possible solution is to abandon the battle positions in the waterway in the first phase if the dragon does not come from the south but from other directions, and instead carry the ballistae to the city walls.

The second phase begins with a fight to the death. There's no such thing as retreat then; you either survive and drive the dragon out of the anti-aircraft range, or you die in battle, burned to ashes by the dragon's breath. Because the city walls are different from the shipping lanes.

This is a crucial part of Lorthene's defensive system, a line of defense forged with stone and blood, steel and oaths.

Moreover, the city walls were no different from military formations; one could neither run nor retreat. While one side was still firing, the other side began to flee. Besides the collapse of morale and the chaos of discipline, when gaps appeared in the firepower, the fate of those soldiers still fighting was almost sealed: they would be isolated, burned, or torn apart.

The terrible scene of the first Battle of Gorond will be completely replicated, which means that we will be back to the old era in one turn, which is something that Duruci will never allow to happen!
"Raise it! Raise it! Cough cough..."

Amidst the disjointed formation, atop the lead fiery dragon, the dragon prince roared hoarsely. His voice was a mixture of excruciating pain and rage. After one shout, he began to cough violently, spitting out liquid that, blown by the wind, splashed back onto his face and armor, dripping down his chin, jaw, and neck guard.

There is absolutely no dignity to speak of.

Worse than the lack of dignity, he felt as if his chest were a container swaying in the wind, filled with seawater, each breath like drinking water, and each heartbeat accompanied by a tearing pain.

The burning pain spread from my lungs to my throat, and even made my heart convulse.

He knew this was a sign of fluid buildup in his lungs.

Who told him that when he was attacking the fleet, the Sun Dragon he was controlling dove headfirst into the sea, causing him to swallow a bellyful of seawater in that instant.

He knew this was a sign of pulmonary edema because he had experienced it before. It happened a long time ago, when he was young, hot-blooded, and arrogant. He was adventuring in a mountain crater when he was chased by a multi-headed serpent.

It was a life-or-death struggle.

Every roar of that multi-headed serpent shook the mountain and caused the snow to collapse.

He could only flee for his life. In his panic, he saw a white light ahead and mistook it for a frozen lake. He thought the ice could support his weight, but not the multi-headed serpent's, and that he would be safe. He even turned around...

So he leaped into the air, jumping towards that hope.

He thought it was ice, and it was indeed ice.

Unfortunately, the ice wasn't cold enough.

The moment he jumped, the ice cracked with a sharp, shattering sound, and he plunged in completely unprepared. The icy lake water enveloped him in an instant. It wasn't the cold of his skin; it was a cold that pierced his bones and froze his soul. He struggled desperately, trying to swim upwards, trying to breathe, but all he inhaled was water, which nearly made him lose consciousness.

Although he survived by sheer luck, he developed severe pulmonary edema. He spent a long time recovering from the damage to his lungs, and the weakness and pain caused him to be awakened by coughing many nights.

The shadow of that moment lingered in his mind—the despair of falling into cold darkness and being unable to breathe.

From then on, he would instinctively avoid places with water. Even when passing through rivers, wetlands, or even misty valleys, he would subconsciously slow his breathing to avoid hearing that "splashing" sound.

What's worse than pulmonary edema is this very moment, right now.

Although he didn't want to face it, didn't want to admit it, he was truly afraid. He knew things were in chaos, complete chaos. Although the dragon was flying and launching its attack, everything was in disarray, without any order or strategy.

The lagoon's waterway, the places he had once been, were no different to him from the Gate of the Underworld that had opened to him.

The blazing dragon witnessed his kin and companions being struck by ballistae and falling into the sea, a sight that enraged him. He let out a furious roar that shook the very air. But he also knew he couldn't fly any further; any further and he would die. He sensed the impending doom.

It then flapped its wings violently, creating a huge gust of air, trying to gain altitude, try to leave the flight path, and escape this deadly trap.

He is a dragon, not some special flying machine, but he can leap from the ground. He is more experienced than the previously abruptly stopped Sun Dragon; his reactions are faster and his judgments are more accurate.

So he rose at an almost vertical angle, then flew backward, turned, unfolded his wings, and streaked across the sky like a streak of meteorite, returning to where he came from, flying off course and escaping this doomed place.

However, this flight maneuver is fraught with danger.

In the instant he was pulled up from the dry ground, his vulnerable abdomen was completely exposed to the crossbow fire. Although this moment was very short, only five seconds, it was enough for Haiwei.

The sound of the crossbow string vibrating and the sound of air exploding rang out almost simultaneously. Then, three crossbow bolts appeared in his abdomen, followed by two more. His left wing was also pierced, leaving two huge holes.

The crossbow bolts piercing the wings didn't stop; they continued flying along their trajectory, one of them striking a Sun Dragon in the head behind. The Sun Dragon died instantly, lost its balance, and plunged into the sea like a falling comet.

The Fiery Sun Dragon, which had sprung up from the ground, did not die immediately, even though it had five crossbow bolts lodged in its abdomen.

His weakness was not hit.

He roared, howled, struggled, covered for them, and flapped his wings, trying to get his kin who were rushing in to leave this doomed place.

When he had eleven crossbow bolts lodged in his abdomen, he could no longer hold on. His roar turned into a broken groan, and his body began to fall. He let out a mournful cry, as if bidding farewell to the heavens and his people, and then, along with the dragon prince on his back, he plummeted, crashing heavily into the sea in the shipping lane.

This time, the Dragon Prince was well prepared.

In the instant before he fell into the water, he held his breath, his chest tightening as if about to burst, forcing himself to overcome his fear. The moment he hit the sea, he unlocked the clasps; his armor and straps slid through the water with a soft, rustling sound. The icy seawater almost instantly seeped into his skin. He tried to open his eyes, feeling the salty sting spreading across the corners of his eyes.

When he managed to open his eyes, he saw...

Two enormous sharks circled slowly around him, their bodies reflecting an eerie silver sheen in the sea light, like blades under the moonlight. He could even see the riders on the sharks' backs reaching out to greet him in a friendly manner; the movement was so quiet it seemed unreal, like a hallucination.

Then, a sharp pain pierced through his consciousness like a spear. Something cold and thin pierced through his helmet and into his mind, as if his soul had been hooked and violently pulled away from his body.

Suddenly, everything went black, and he could no longer feel anything.

Perhaps the dragon high above heard the wailing and lamenting from the waterway, perhaps the dragon sensed something through its bloodline, or perhaps the dragon prince on its back gave a warning.

A silver moon dragon launched a swooping attack, tearing the sea breeze with a sharp howl. Its massive form swept down from the sky like a falling comet, plunging directly into the shipping lane with icy fury.

Then, two more Sun Dragons followed, forming a standard attack formation.

Haiwei, who was at the lead position and preparing to take aim again, suddenly saw a look of astonishment and disbelief on the face of his comrade in front of him. Then, his comrade stretched out his hand and pointed tremblingly at the sky.

He didn't look back; he understood what the action meant. He immediately stepped back from the firing position, his hand still on the crossbow handle, and a low command escaped his throat.

"run!"

"run!"

Another sea guard observing from a high vantage point shouted out almost simultaneously.

The battle positions were cleared in a mere second, leaving only the Eagle Claw Ballista, which had once slain many dragons, standing alone in its position, coldly pointing towards the sky.

The Sea Guards, having left their posts, scrambled and tumbled towards the passage. Although they wore no armor and had undergone similar training countless times, all that training seemed as fragile as paper before the arrival of the real dragon's breath.

A sea guard tripped over a rope and tumbled due to inertia.

"Keep going! Keep going, don't stop!"

Haiwei, who was leading the team, staggered to his feet and, gritting his teeth, lifted his fallen comrade to his feet. As he did so, he couldn't help but turn back and see that blinding light.

Dragon Breath!

He stared wide-eyed and shouted with almost all his might.

He knew that there was no time to close the fire door.

The dragon arrived too quickly, and the range of its breath attack was outrageous.

He could even feel the intense, scorching heat rushing towards him, as if the place would turn to ashes in the next second.

Soon, the sea guards reached the second fire door. After the last sea guard jumped into the passage, the captain and another sea guard worked together to pull the handle of the fire door. The other sea guards did the same, grabbing the ropes on the ground and holding on tightly with both hands.

The other end of the rope was firmly tied to the doorknob.

The sea guards pulling the ropes stared wide-eyed, their whites reflecting the approaching flames. They saw the flames—not ordinary fire, but a stream of light that seemed to possess life, devouring the air, spreading along the tunnel walls. The tongues of fire meandered and leaped in the air, howling violently, as if to burn the entire tunnel to ashes.

Their breathing became heavy and rapid in the confined space. No one dared to let go, no one dared to shout. Their palms were chafed and bleeding from the ropes, but no one stopped.

At that moment, they exerted all their strength, a desperate, all-out effort. They all knew that if this door couldn't be closed, they had no chance of survival.

Just as the flames were about to engulf them, the fire door was finally closed. The clanging of metal against metal was deafening, and a tremendous vibration spread along the door frame, even causing the ground to tremble slightly.

Just as Captain Haiwei was about to turn the wheel on the door, he suddenly recoiled as if burned. In fact, he was indeed burned; the scorching metal almost instantly branded his palm with a scorch mark.

In that instant, he made his decision.

“Continue!” he shouted hoarsely, almost roaring.

There was no cheering, no collapsing, no panting.

The sea guards were still moving; they scrambled and stumbled towards the third fire door once more. Although the second fire door wasn't completely closed, it wasn't breached, and the flames didn't spread.

Perhaps the dragon didn't notice the passage, perhaps it wasn't lying in its battle position breathing its breath into the passage, or perhaps something else...

With a final, heavy click, the heavy metal door and frame snapped shut together perfectly, emitting a reassuring thud. The third fire door had closed safely.

The captain, slumped against the corridor wall, gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently, sweat trickling down his temples. He shakily stretched out his hand; his hands, once calloused and accustomed to salt spray and wind and waves, were now red and blistered—scars from burns.

Despite the excruciating pain, he managed a few dry, chuckling laughs. The laughter was hoarse and broken, yet so real it sent chills down your spine; at least, he had survived.

The other sea guards were either sprawled on the ground like corpses, their strength completely drained, or leaning against the steel walls of the passage, panting heavily. Some raised their hands and handed their water bottles to their companions, sharing the last bit of coolness between them.

When they heard the captain's strange laughter, everyone paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh along. The laughter was intermittent, tinged with exhaustion and soft sobs—the laughter of someone who had survived a near-death experience.

As the laughter faded, silence descended upon the passageway. Whether drinking water or leaning against the wall, all the sea guards simultaneously raised their heads and looked at their captain.

Their expressions were complex, conflicted, and hesitant, yet there was also a light ignited by their determination.

The captain looked up at the faces—young, tired, and blackened by smoke.

He knew their mission was complete. They had fulfilled their duty to the Sea Guard, and they deserved to rest, wait, and live here. But he also understood—Lotharn was still burning.

He sighed deeply, his throat dry as if burned, and then slowly stood up.

“I was born here,” he said softly, his voice echoing through the corridor, “my parents, my family, my wife and children, are all here. Lortherne is my home.”

After saying that, he left quickly, his silhouette stretching long in the dim light, his footsteps firm and heavy, disappearing at the end of the passage.

The sea guards looked at each other.

They knew where their captain was going—to that higher place, to that still-burning city wall.

They knew that the fighting on the city walls was far more intense than that on the waterways.

Those missions of Duruci and the Dragonborn were far more arduous and dangerous than theirs.

"I was also born here."

After a guard finished speaking in a low voice, he stood up and walked in the direction the captain had left.

"Who isn't being talked about?"

Another sea guard smiled slightly, and with exhaustion and stubbornness, followed.

A moment later, the third fire door was empty, with only residual heat, bloodstains, and ropes swaying quietly in the dim light, as if silently telling the story of what had just happened.

Outside, the fierce battle continues. (End of Chapter)