Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

It's raining.

It wasn't so much rain as it was as if someone was pouring water directly down from the sky.

There was no gradual increase in intensity from a light drizzle; instead, the rain intensified abruptly without any transition, as if an invisible hand had suddenly ripped open the clouds and poured all the water from the sky at once.

In an instant, it went from no rain to torrential rain, from silence to roaring thunder.

The rain was so dense it looked like thousands of silver threads falling simultaneously, crashing onto the ground and splashing up droplets that almost merged into one. The sky grew even darker, a sudden and unnatural darkness, as if night had abruptly descended.

Karendir stopped in his tracks, rain streaming down his hair and face, icy cold. His gaze fell on the white cloud in the distance, fixed on the colorless, transparent gas that sent chills down his spine. The next moment, as if pricked by a needle, he abruptly reached out and grabbed his companion who was about to step forward.

He shook his wet hair, water droplets flying in the rain, then fiercely wiped his lower face, cursing loudly, his voice filled with rain and anger.

Are you an idiot?

His companion froze for a moment, completely still, until a few seconds later, when the white mist surged again, bringing with it a scalding white wave of air, and he finally came to his senses.

He wore an expression of relief, a fear born of instinct. As the impulse subsided and reason returned, he finally remembered what Duruci had said during the pre-battle preparations a few days earlier.

In Duluth’s words, the gas not far from him was called: water vapor.

Dragon's breath is essentially a violent combustion reaction that releases enormous amounts of heat, causing the temperature of the flames and the surrounding air to rise to extremely high levels. When water encounters such a high-temperature environment and intense flames, it frantically absorbs heat from the flames and the hot air. This absorption is almost greedy and endless, far exceeding the heat required for the water droplets to vaporize.

As a result, the temperature of the water droplet soars to its boiling point in an extremely short time, and it immediately transforms from a liquid state into water vapor. The whole process is so fast that it's impossible to react, so fast that even the air doesn't have time to move.

The heat absorbed in this process is called the latent heat of vaporization.

He didn't understand these things. He had received an education, but that education hadn't included this kind of knowledge. He couldn't understand the complex explanations, nor the principles of energy and reaction.

However, this did not prevent him from clearly understanding that if he had actually rushed over just now, he would have been dead!

Moreover, he died a horrific death.

When boiling water touches the skin, it cools instantly, mercilessly transferring the immense heat it absorbed to the skin. That temperature exceeds the limits of an elf's tolerance, capable of scorching muscles in an instant. Severe burns follow, with blistering, whitening, and necrosis of the skin; even the sense of pain cannot keep up with the searing heat.

Even more terrifying is that water vapor is a gas, unlike flames which are tangible and inescapable; it spreads rapidly. It envelops a larger area of ​​the body, seeps into crevices, and clings to exposed skin. Face, neck, arms—all exposed areas are burned simultaneously.

When danger is realized, the area is often already surrounded.

Inhaling that vapor would have even more horrifying consequences. The scalding gas would immediately burn the delicate mouth and throat, followed by the trachea. The tissues would swell rapidly, obstructing breathing. Within seconds, suffocation could occur due to laryngeal or pulmonary edema, leaving no time to even scream.

In other words, if Kalandil hadn't pulled him back, he...

As for why Duruci knew so much about it...

When the two of them stopped, their three companions behind them also stopped. And so, in the rain and on the misty streets, they all came to a stop.

The street was as smooth as a mirror, washed clean by the rain. Puddles flowed between the stone bricks, reflecting shimmering light and shadow. The air was filled with the mingled smells of gunpowder, tar, and steam, mixed with distant roars and intermittent shouts.

"Don't just stand there, find a way out!"

Karendir shouted, his voice broken by the rain, hoarse and trembling. As he shouted, he turned and scanned his surroundings.

The route they had chosen was blocked; the hot gas churned and churned under the rain, like a semi-transparent wall.

They must choose a different path immediately.

Standing on the street is not a solution; staying in such a place means death. If the dragon's breath descends again, utter annihilation will be inevitable for them.

“Over there!” A companion pointed to the building behind them, a three-story old-fashioned mansion. “I remember there were two doors there that led to the street next door.”

There were no extra words, no arguments.

Once the direction was determined, the five Asur men in black raincoats turned around and moved quickly. Their footsteps splashed in the puddles, and the sound of their boots hitting the ground was swallowed by the downpour.

They entered the building, walked through the corridors, and through the garden. When they reappeared on the other side of the corridor, all sounds became blurred, leaving only the rhythm of breathing and raindrops.

Suddenly, Karendir, who was in the lead, stretched out his hand, signaling to stop. As a result, the five people collided due to inertia. Fortunately, he managed to steady himself and regain his footing; otherwise, all five of them would probably have been lying on the ground, covered in dust and dirt.

He gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. Then, with a forceful and hasty motion, he reached behind his head and ripped off his goggles. As he did so, his pointed ears twitched slightly, perking up in the wind and rain, trying to make out the faint sound.

He gestured for silence, and the other four immediately stopped, the atmosphere in the corridor freezing as if it had been cut off. He leaned against the wall, his breathing slowing, and wiped his glasses with the waterproof cloth covering his upper body, his movements slow but extremely focused. At the same time, he moved his feet slowly, his boots almost sliding on the ground, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The goggles and the waterproof tarp were both supplies issued to Duruqi. The goggles were usually kept in his pocket and taken out when needed. The waterproof tarp was more practical; it was rolled up and placed on his back to serve as a support when resting against a wall, but that wasn't its real purpose.

Waterproof tarpaulins have many main functions. Several triangular pieces of waterproof tarpaulin can be spliced ​​together to form a simple tent; a single piece of waterproof tarpaulin can serve as a raincoat, stretcher, or temporary shelter.

The fabric has metal buttons and buttonholes on three sides, and a pullover section in the middle, featuring a multi-layered waterproof design. When the buttons are closed, they form a sealed layer. In case of rain, simply pull the fabric around your neck and tighten the pullover section to the three sides with the drawstring, and a sturdy raincoat is complete. (Introduced in Chapter 568)

This tarpaulin wasn't a temporary assignment; it was standard equipment that Karendir had when he received his work clothes. The only other item was the goggles, which were only temporarily provided a few days ago.

Unfortunately, this waterproof tarpaulin was never actually used as a raincoat.

It's not that Lorthorn doesn't rain, but rather because of the existence of the Stormweavers Order. They control the weather, manipulating the sea breeze and moisture, causing clouds to swirl above the city but never fall.

Until now.

Although this was the first time Karendil had actually used it, he found the tarp to be quite useful—sturdy, lightweight, and windproof. Unfortunately, however, it couldn't cover the area above the neck.

In a short while, his long hair was soaked through, clinging wetly to the sides of his neck. The rainwater streamed down his hair, along the seam between his neck and the waterproof cloth, icy and biting.

And goggles are just goggles.

It worked very well when the wind was blowing. The wind was carrying dust and gravel, and the lens helped to block out a lot of it.

But it doesn't work properly after it rains.

Water still seeped into the goggles through the sealed gaps, first forming tiny condensation beads, and then fogging up.

The thin mist spread inside the lens, blurry, moist, and cold. Light passing through it turned into a blurry white shadow, and the shapes of the outside world were distorted beyond recognition.

Before he took it off, his vision was as if through a dream, so unreal that he could hardly discern the direction.

But that wasn't the main reason he stopped.

What truly stopped him was the sudden sound—the clash of weapons. The sound was amplified amidst the rain, the wind, and the chaotic echoes of the street, carrying a powerful metallic resonance, like someone striking sparks in the air.

The gate was not closed.

Duruci strictly forbade closing the doors, not only to facilitate soldiers' entry and exit from the building, but also to allow them to quickly move through the building and take cover in the current situation.

While wiping, his back had unknowingly leaned against the half-open door. When he moved to the edge of the door, he subconsciously squatted down, held his breath, and waited.

He was waiting for that moment—the lightning.

The moment the lightning struck, illuminating the entire block, he used that instant to peek out. And the moment he saw what was in the distance, his eyes widened in shock.

It was an utterly astonished reaction, with shock and disbelief mixed in their eyes.

Then, the veteran's instincts kicked in. Despite his shock, he quickly pulled his head back, instead of standing there dumbfounded, staring in horror, or craning his neck.

Although standing there dumbfounded wouldn't have caused any real trouble, he wouldn't have done that; veterans wouldn't have done that.

"what happened?"

"What do you see?"

The four companions followed suit and leaned against the wall. When Karendir pulled his head back, he asked in a low voice.

“A dragon.” Kalendir’s voice was low, yet it struck the air like a stone.

All four companions gasped in shock.

“We…” a companion asked cautiously, his voice trembling slightly.

“Dead!” Karendil answered coldly, his words short, crisp, and sharp as a knife.

"hiss--!"

The gasps of shock rang out again, this time longer, filled with fear and disbelief.

In that fleeting moment, a glimpse of Karendir...

No, it should be said that Karendir, with a sudden glance, saw an unforgettable scene.

He saw a colossal, bronze-colored dragon lying dead in the street. Its massive body had crashed through rooftops, collapsed stone pillars, and torn the street apart as it fell. Its wings were half-spread, tattered and mangled, scales and blood mingling with the rain. And on the back of that enormous body, an elf dressed as a dragon prince was still fighting desperately.

Although Kalendir didn't know the extent of the dragon prince's martial arts skills, he did know—the ending!

This dragon prince is about to die.

Because the dragon prince was already surrounded by the Duruchi, he saw the Duruchi wielding two-handed weapons. Their postures were indifferent, precise, and cruel. He also saw the snake people, those strange figures that were a mixture of crawling and human, appearing like phantoms in the lightning.

He knew that the snake people usually only operated around Kredan, or mid- to high-ranking officers.

What that means is self-evident. He didn't think the dragon prince could do anything alone; even if he unleashed his full power, even if he burned his life force, he would only be exchanging a few more enemies before he died.

Moreover, according to his observation, the dragon prince was in very bad condition; if he was not mistaken, he was injured at the moment the dragon crashed to the ground, in the shock of that instant.

Thinking of this, he sighed, a sigh filled with sorrow, bewilderment, and irony.

"Wipe your goggles."

Kalendir stopped talking about anything related to the dragon and the dragon prince, and instead issued a command in a calm, even somewhat cold voice.

Because he was a veteran, the Duruci officer in charge of their area assigned him to lead four neighbors who had only participated in draft training.

This is an order, but also a sign of trust.

Even though goggles may fog up and obstruct vision, they are still usable and useful. It's better than having to shield your forehead with your hand while moving, risking tripping and losing your balance; you can always wipe them clean later.

After saying this, he took the water bottle from his waist, took a big gulp, and handed it to his companions. Then he straightened up and waited for the lightning to arrive.

Two seconds later, another bolt of lightning appeared, tearing through the thick clouds, like a god slicing open the sky's skin in the darkness. Using that light, he looked again in the direction of the dragon's corpse. Just as he had predicted, the Duruchis had already retreated, leaving the street behind, leaving behind the dragon and the dragon prince's corpses. The enormous figure lay across the middle of the street, its shadow shifting in the flashes of light, as if breathing.

Just as he pulled his head back, he heard a whooshing sound. It was the sound of air being compressed, the sound of force tearing through space. He knew it was the sound he heard below when the dragon was flying. He looked up and, sure enough, a dragon was flying, so low to the ground that it seemed he could reach out and touch its body.

In the dim light, he saw arrows protruding from the dragon's belly, an astonishing number that almost covered its entire surface. Then, the light intensified, and the dragon breathed its life force. Although his vision was obscured by the buildings, he heard screams and wails, sounds of being engulfed by flames, like flesh and iron being scorched simultaneously.

He knew that the artillery units covered by the dragon's breath were finished, and judging from the trajectory of the dragon's breath, there should be more than one artillery unit.

But the dragon didn't fare any better, being struck by even more arrows. Arrows rained down on it, piercing its scales and bones. Its flight path began to twist, its wings twitched, and it was only a moment before it crashed to the ground.

The deafening crash shook the earth three times, and even caused the rainwater on the walls to fall.

Amid the deafening roar of the impact, Karendil made his decision.

"Let's go see if there are any survivors."

This statement seemed abrupt, yet perfectly logical.

His companions did not object; instead, they nodded in unison, their eyes gleaming with eager anticipation, a gleam tinged with both fear and a certain obsession.

They were not soldiers, but they were not bystanders either.

Their mission is to protect the neighborhood, but how exactly they protect it is another matter.

They are non-combatants, volunteers, and do not participate in combat. During the preparation and deployment phases, they perform auxiliary work, which mainly involves carrying sandbags.

But it's not about building barricades. Barricades won't be built. This isn't ground warfare or street fighting. Barricades and fortifications are useless and will only create obstacles.

Sandbags were used to elevate the ballistae, increasing their angle of attack. Additionally, they were used for fire prevention, minimizing potential damage.

Besides sandbags, they also helped replenish arrows to ensure the artillery crews had enough ammunition. However, once the battle began, replenishment was no longer necessary. Those were ballistae, not machine guns. The ballistae replenished before the battle were sufficient.

Once the battle began, they became more flexible and unpredictable. They went wherever they were needed and filled any gaps in the defense. When necessary, they could also pick up weapons and join the fight.

You don't work for free; you get paid, with a guaranteed base salary plus commission.

Of course, they weren't doing it for the money! They were doing it to protect the neighborhood, for that vague sense of dignity, and for proof that they were alive.

Once his goggles were back on, Karendir led his men into action. He took the lead, not only as a captain but also because he knew the street well.

He knew what the stone carvings looked like at every corner, what the people living in the buildings were called, how many people lived there, and he even knew which section of the stone pavement was the most slippery on rainy days. To him, this street was not just a road, but the texture of his life.

The group crossed the street, splashing water under their feet, the sounds of rain and panting mingling together.

Finally, they arrived at the building diagonally opposite.

Just before entering the passage, Karendir bent down and grabbed the pickaxe and rope lying beside the door, his movements swift and decisive, with almost no hesitation. Then, they entered the passage, crossed the garden, and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

He found the door by memory and tried to open it. However, as he expected, it was locked.

Without bumping or kicking, he simply swung his pickaxe and smashed it down.

In a moment, the door shattered with a "crack" and crashed to the ground. At the far end of the room was a balcony leading to the outside world, connecting to the neighboring street.

When Kalentil appeared on the balcony, he squinted and observed that a fire truck was parked on the street below.

He glanced around, and after confirming that no one was nearby, he secured the rope to the balcony railing, tugged at it to make sure it was sturdy. Then, without hesitation, he threw the pickaxe down, and then slid down the rope.

As he walked around the fire truck and appeared in the passageway, a Duruci soldier came out to meet him.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Then, Duruci moved aside, plopping down against the wall with utter exhaustion. He removed his helmet and tossed it aside carelessly, panting heavily, coughing, and vomiting.

Despite the poor lighting, Kalandil could still see the tears on Duruci's face and his scorched features; his skin, like paper licked by flames, was cracked, red, and glistening with moisture. Rain streamed down his chin, but it couldn't wash away the acrid smell.

Kalentil glanced at it, said nothing, asked nothing, and simply took the water bottle off and handed it to Duruci.

At that moment, his expression held neither pity nor indifference, only a calm numbness honed by war. Then, he shook his head and led his companions into the garden.

Once inside the garden, the number of people increased. They were either firefighters or volunteers. But all of them were heading downhill.

One of them was his neighbor, who had a grocery store he frequented before Truc came.

The other person saw him, paused for a moment, then shook their head, their eyes filled with fear, apprehension, and unease. That look seemed to say, "Don't go, it's hell up there."

Karendil nodded to indicate that he understood, then turned to look at Duruci, who was slumped over in his vomit.

If his judgment was correct, this Duruci was likely the sole survivor among the artillery crew. His trembling hands, his constantly twitching Adam's apple, and his bewildered eyes—all indicated that he had just crawled out of the inferno.

Just then, an Asur ran into the passage, his steps faltering and his breathing rapid. He first glanced at the fallen Duruci, then looked at Karundir.

The moment their eyes met, his eyes and expression held countless, indescribable emotions.

Your house collapsed!

Upon hearing this, Karendir's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment. In that instant, he couldn't hear anything else; only the roar of the rain echoed in his mind.

But he didn't say or do anything; after calming down, he simply nodded heavily.

His family is in a shelter, where it is safe. As long as his family is there, he has a home.

Even if your house is destroyed, it will be rebuilt, and perhaps even better or better than before?
And he doesn't even have to pay this fee!
He was more worried about the children fighting on the city walls than about his damaged home.

"Karendir's house has collapsed, and many people have been buried. We need help!" Asur shouted as he ran in and told Karendir the situation.

After saying that, he turned and left.

Then, apart from the volunteers who treated Duruci's wounds, everyone else sprang into action.

Upon returning home, Kalandil did not stand there reminiscing, nor did he allow himself a single second of hesitation; instead, he immediately threw himself into the excavation.

Rainwater slid down his hair, mixing with the mud, and the pickaxe struck the ruins with a dull metallic sound. But he stopped quickly, for he saw a familiar face, trapped beneath the rubble, and at that moment, he froze.

He dropped his pickaxe and practically slid over, his fingers rummaging through the broken bricks and twisted beams, trying to pry open the rubble, but he couldn't move it. The face trapped under the rubble waved with its free left hand, signaling him not to bother.

The movement was slow and trembling, as if drawing a final mark in the air.

Then, Face extended his hand, and as he did so, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, which mixed with the rain and flowed down his cheeks into the mud.

"Cahill!"

Karendir knelt down, his knees sinking heavily into the mud and rubble, and grasped Cahill's hand, which was cold, trembling, and almost devoid of warmth.

Cahill smiled at him, a smile filled with longing, reluctance, speechlessness, and a touch of absurdity—a smile that seemed to want to say something, yet also as if he understood everything. Then his head slumped limply, and the hand holding Karendir lost its strength.

Karendir's face twitched. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. His throat was sore and dry, and only rainwater kept streaming down his face.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes, his movements slow and stiff, as if performing some kind of ritual. He took one out and put it in Cahill's mouth. If he could, he wanted to light it for Cahill, but he couldn't; the rain was too heavy, the wind too strong, and even if he did manage to light it…

Then, the cigarette case appeared in Cahill's right hand, but this time it didn't appear from Karundir's hand to Cahill's hand like it had in the morning.

It was Karendil who put it in himself, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid of hurting the body that had lost all feeling of pain.

Finally, Karundir reached out and gently closed Cahill's eyes, which were filled with lingering affection.

In that instant, the whole world fell silent, as if even the sound of rain had been sucked away, leaving only his rapid breathing and heartbeat pounding in his chest.

After doing all this, Karendir stood up, closed his eyes in anguish, and recalled all his interactions with Cahill. Their first meeting, the lurking conflict, sitting together eating, drinking, chatting, smoking, him sharing gossip—those days flashed through his mind until this morning.

“I am the head of your neighborhood, and that is my battlefield. Although I will not take up arms, although I come from Nagarus, from New Hagrid Graves, and am a…Druch.”

Yes, Cahill is not Asur, not a Lorthorn; he is a Duruch born in New Hagrid Graves.

Kalandil remembered Cahill saying that he was born into a working-class family, but that he had excellent grades. His outstanding grades and good ratings led him to become an Assati, an official, and he was subsequently transferred by ship to Ulthuan, to Lorthorn, to be in charge of civil and military coordination, managing the neighborhood where Kalandil lived.

Now, Cahill is dead, dead in the house that belonged to Karundir. (End of Chapter)