Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

On the rooftop, the smiles on the faces of the Duruqi soldiers, who had been casually watching and commenting on the battle just moments before, froze instantly, like candle flames extinguished by a cold wind.

But soon, as if controlled by the same invisible command, they suddenly grabbed the weapons beside them, their armor making a rapid rubbing sound in the hurried movements.

The next moment, they surged toward the stairwell like a black torrent bursting its banks.

Footsteps echoed through the narrow passage, the rhythmic thud of boots striking the stone surfaces like a dense rain, causing the walls to tremble slightly. They hurried across the slightly messy garden below, their boots kicking up fallen leaves and broken tiles, before bursting out of the corridor and rejoining the main street, like a precisely guided undercurrent rushing back to the battlefield.

At the same moment, the Duruch soldiers who were carrying the wounded and clearing rubble on the street also abruptly stopped. As if receiving a silent command, their shoulders and fingertips tensed, and their entire bodies straightened abruptly from their bent-over working posture. Almost simultaneously, they released the stretchers and tools in their hands, and their eyes instantly switched from focused exhaustion to a sharp, hawk-like gaze, as if a battle switch in their souls had been flipped.

Without a trace of chaos, they quickly grabbed the spears and shields leaning against the wall. Some even wiped the sweat from their foreheads with the backs of their hands to clear their vision; others flipped the crossbows on their backs to their chests for a quick check, their fingers flying across the strings and rails. Once they confirmed everything was in good working order, they began to silently and efficiently form ranks.

The entire transformation took only a few seconds. The previous "rescue mode" was completely stripped away, like a disguise torn off in an instant. In its place was a sharp-edged, murderous "combat mode." Their backs straightened like blades once more, and the air was filled with the smell of iron and blood again.

Among the crowd, most of the Asur volunteers looked bewildered and fearful, their eyes darting around, their breathing rapid, as if they were about to scream uncontrollably at any moment. But before this panic could spread, it was forcibly contained. The black knight maintaining order no longer relied on shouting, but instead, with a crisp "clang," resolutely drew the sword from his waist.

Instead of pointing the sword at the crowd, he raised it high, attempting to use this unquestionable method to stabilize the unresting crowd and allow the volunteers to continue their rescue work.

“Our family…”

Karendil stepped forward.

As he spoke in a deep voice, he subconsciously straightened his dusty clothes, trying to appear presentable. He continued walking quickly forward, finally stopping precisely a step away from the Black Knight's sword's attack range.

Neither back down nor recklessly take on challenges.

The Black Knight's sharp gaze, as if it were tangible, fixed on Kalentil, the oppressive force of which abruptly interrupted Kalentil's subsequent words. The Black Knight brandished his sword, but did not step forward, nor did he use Kalentil as a tool to establish his authority.

Instead, he pointed the tip of his sword sharply at the street beside him, the thrust precise and decisive, as if the entire street was pierced by its chilling force.

Karendir looked toward the cold tip of the sword.

The Duruci soldiers, who had originally poured out of the houses, had now formed basic ranks on the street. At the captain's concise gestures and low shouts, they turned around in unison, their movements crisp and clear, like well-worn mechanical gears meshing instantly, and quickly adjusted their line into a column.

Immediately afterwards, the formation changed again, with the two columns hugging the walls of the houses on both sides of the street. Finally, the soldiers' formation was compressed into an even more compact column.

The soldiers immediately leaned against the wall, no one making a loud noise, only whispering among themselves. Some silently ate the food they carried, some raised their canteens and drank water, some skillfully put chewing tobacco into their mouths or lit cigarettes, waiting silently as they exhaled smoke, their eyes always vigilantly scanning their surroundings.

The other two teams of soldiers and snake-men, having completed their formation, did not linger but instead swiftly turned to the left and right passages respectively. Their metal tail rings jingled softly as the agile and unpredictable snake-men moved with lightning speed, instantly disappearing into the shadows between the buildings, as if gliding into some unfathomable depths.

A few seconds later, their figures completely disappeared from the main street, leaving only a faint, chilling aftertaste in the air.

Immediately afterwards, the ballista crew appeared on the street. They carried the disassembled ballistas on their shoulders; some carried heavy crossbow arms, some hugged the frames, some dragged wooden boxes filled with arrows, and others carried bundles of arrows on their shoulders. Despite the heavy equipment, their movements were swift and orderly, and each person knew precisely what their next move was.

The entire street was filled with a suffocating sense of oppression and impending doom, typical of the calm before a storm.

Kalentil took in all these subtle changes. As a retired veteran, he understood perfectly well that while the formation of the Duruci soldiers appeared to have loosened, it was actually a carefully orchestrated maneuver, remaining perfectly orderly. Not a single soldier had truly broken formation; they had simply shifted to a position where they could counterattack at any moment.

The soldiers before me appeared to be casually resting against the wall, but their formation remained intact. They weren't truly slacking off; rather, they were efficiently utilizing this precious break to recover their strength while keeping their muscles ready for immediate activation.

At the officer's command, these seemingly undisciplined soldiers would spring up instantly like springs, their feet landing heavily, returning to their previous disciplined battle formation.

He understood the underlying logic behind the street's defense deployment.

The columns on the left and right sides, pressed tightly against the walls, could easily converge inwards to form a solid four-column deep line; and at the other end of the street, another four-column line was also deployed.

These two groups of four, though not completely blocking the street, were enough to act like two gates that could close instantly, effectively blocking any impact from either side of the street.

The whereabouts of the two vanished teams are self-evident. As mobile reserves, they were ready to pounce on the weak points of the battle line or launch a fatal counterattack against any enemy that broke through.

As for the artillery crews carrying crossbow parts into the passage... their intentions were even more deadly.

All they need to do is quickly assemble and set up the ballistae at the high points of the buildings on both sides. At that time, this hundred-man team will no longer be guarding just a street, but a three-dimensional, intersecting, and deadly trap with both long and short-range firepower, which will turn this passage into a solid blockade zone where no one can escape.

Even the most astute hunters, once they step into this place, will be instantly targeted and torn to shreds by crossbow bolts with incredible penetrating power from different angles.

All of this mobilization, deployment, and tactical preparation was completed efficiently in a short time, almost without any loud commands, relying solely on gestures and tacit understanding. It was as if the breathing rhythm of every Durucchi soldier was unified by some invisible beat; their movements were sharp, precise, and without the slightest hesitation, fully demonstrating the military discipline, rigorous tactical thinking, and ruthless battlefield efficiency deeply ingrained in the Durucchi army.

Just then, a series of dense and orderly footsteps came from the distant street, accompanied by the chilling sound of metal armor scraping against each other.

Karendir looked in the direction of the sound and saw a Duruch unit entering the street in a tight four-column formation. He was able to quickly determine that it was a hundred-man unit because he saw the flag at the very front of the column, fluttering in the wind, which indicated that it was a hundred-man unit.

The tense atmosphere seemed to become even more stagnant with the arrival of this new force.

"Don't just stand there, come and help."

Suddenly, a hand gently patted Karendir's shoulder. The touch wasn't strong, but it felt like a rope pulling him back to reality from his frozen state. He turned around and saw it was the Sea Guard captain in charge of coordinating the area. The captain stopped looking at him and raised his voice, waving and shouting to the still somewhat bewildered volunteers around him, "Don't just stand there, come and help! Move the car before they get here!"

His voice wasn't violent, but it carried an experienced composure and strength, like a calming anchor dropped into chaos.

After lowering his hand, the captain glanced almost imperceptibly at the black knight standing beside him like an iron tower, then shook his head helplessly and let out a barely audible sigh from deep in his throat.

He had been dealing with this Black Knight for quite some time, and in his private assessment, his colleague's most prominent characteristic was: rigidity, almost inhuman rigidity. All actions had to strictly adhere to regulations, and no instructions were to be deviated from in the slightest, as if he himself were a walking, armored military code.

After his shift ended, he spent a lot of time talking with the other Sea Guard captains and carefully observing the other Black Knights who worked with the Sea Guards. In comparison, he could only attribute his bad luck to having been stuck with such an inflexible "living rule."

He knew that if he hadn't taken the initiative to break the deadlock, given the Black Knight's style, he probably would have kept pointing his sword at the street, letting panic spread among the volunteers, without saying a word of reassurance or explanation.

It wasn't like this before. In the beginning, there were two Black Knights leading the team, but five days ago, one of them was transferred away.

So, he glanced helplessly at the Black Knight, and when their eyes met, he deliberately turned his gaze to the fire truck parked to the side.

He then walked towards the fire truck first, a barely audible sigh escaping his feet, like an old soldier forced to compromise between duty and common sense. He knew in his heart that the best communication lubricant at this moment was not himself, nor the Black Knight, but Cahill, the Duruci official in charge of this street, who was adept at finding a barely functional balance between cold orders and chaotic crowds.

Unfortunately, Cahill is dead.

The body, covered by a sheet, lay not far away, a silent reminder of the brutality and chaos of the battle that had just taken place.

At this moment, the hundred-man squad that had entered the street stopped. After the last few crisp sounds of boots scraping the ground faded away, the street fell into a heavy and oppressive silence.

The centurion leading the unit and the centurion in charge of street defense huddled together and began to talk in hushed tones. Shoulder to shoulder, they shared a cigarette, the smoke rising slowly between their hardened faces, as if even the air itself had temporarily lost its sharpness in this moment of relaxation.

Their soldiers remained silent, standing in neat rows on the street, their eyes fixed straight ahead and their bodies motionless. That restrained stillness was even more chilling than any running.

Seeing that it would take some time to move the vehicle, the centurion in charge of defense glanced at the black knight who had also joined in pushing the vehicle and shook his head speechlessly.

He watched while muttering to himself.

A relative by connections? A stroke of luck? A member of the nobility? The illegitimate son of some powerful figure?
The more I think about it, the more likely it seems.

In his view, if even someone like him could become a Black Knight, then he himself could definitely do it! This thought even gave him a strange sense of confidence, but it was quickly suppressed by reality, and he did not forget the important matter at hand.

Since the Karendir family's house, along with some buildings on two neighboring streets, was destroyed, if the streets were straight, then the dragon that fell earlier must have crashed down at an angle. The enormous shadow tore through tiles and smashed through pillars, its trajectory resembling a brutally slashed wound, completely distorting the original street layout.

He had no time to attend to the situation in other neighborhoods for the time being. Unless the section of the street he was responsible for was confirmed to be safe, or other neighborhoods were in urgent need of assistance, he would never leave his defense zone without authorization.

"Line up the cars in one row, leave a backup passage!" he strode over and shouted the order, pointing to the gap between the collapsed building and the intact house.

With the collapse of the Karendil house, a breach had been created in the defenses of this section of the street. He neither intended nor could completely seal it off; the best solution was to use these fire trucks as temporary barricades between the ruins and the street, allowing the previously breached area to re-establish a relatively reliable barrier.

At the same time, a passage is reserved so that neighboring blocks can be quickly reinforced if necessary, so as not to cause a chain reaction after the overall defense line collapses at a certain point.

"Keep it up!" After giving the order, he encouraged them, "This team is heading towards the shelter to provide support."

The second half of the sentence immediately had an effect.

Upon hearing the word "shelter," the volunteers noticeably sped up their movements, as if a spark of responsibility had been ignited within them. They quickly moved the fire truck away, pulling and pushing it along the way.

Seeing the volunteers' increased efficiency, he nodded in satisfaction. He then walked over to Kalentil, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a street map that was slightly folded at the corner.

"Take some men and go here." The centurion's finger landed precisely on a building on the blueprint, tapping the paper twice to emphasize its importance. He then looked up, noticing Karendir's gaze shift from the blueprint back to his face, and stressed in an extremely serious and solemn tone, "Block this place completely!"

Kalentil did not respond immediately. His brows furrowed slightly, and his breathing slowed involuntarily. His gaze returned to the blueprint, his eyes slowly sliding along the lines of the block, carefully discerning the details before looking up at the corresponding building in reality.

It stands on the same street as his house, separated by two other houses.

He knew that there was a two-way passageway inside the building that connected directly to the adjacent block.

Having confirmed the location, he looked up and asked in a deep voice.

"Should we block that passage?"

“Yes!” The centurion nodded emphatically, his tone firm and unwavering. He then pointed to the ruins beside him. “With this newly opened passage, the original passage over there has lost its tactical significance.”

“I remember this place too!” Karendil did not go to his home, which had been reduced to ruins. Instead, he looked at the blueprints and moved his finger to the building on the other side of the blueprints. He clearly remembered that there was also a two-way passage there. Although his voice was calm, it carried the cautiousness of a veteran’s instinct.

“That’s right! But there are reserves stationed there!” The centurion didn’t reprimand him; instead, a hint of approval for Kalentil’s proactive thinking flashed in his eyes. “Your section must be sealed off. Once it’s done, immediately lead men to check the windows of all the buildings along the route.” He said, gazing at Kalentil, his tone slow and meaningful. “I know you’re a retired soldier… you understand what I mean.” Kalentil nodded solemnly; he completely understood the centurion’s concerns.

The enemy could easily infiltrate the buildings through the windows on either side of the street, then appear on the flanks of the defensive formation. If that happened, a unit's frontal defense would be instantly torn apart, with unimaginable consequences. Every order the centurion gave at this moment was prepared for the worst-case scenario, allowing no room for complacency.

As Karundir left, the fire trucks had already been moved. The waiting 100-person team began to move quickly through the streets in neat columns, heading towards the shelter.

The centurion watched this scene, then glanced at the black knight who stood there, seemingly unsure of what to do next, and could only shake his head helplessly once more.

"If only Cahill were here..." he sighed to himself.

If that capable official were here, he would only need to give a single instruction, and all the trivial matters would be arranged in an orderly manner. Why would he need to do everything personally and coordinate each matter one by one as he is doing now?

In the current climate of manpower shortages and chaotic situations, this absence is particularly glaring.

Suppressing his emotions, he quickly walked to the side of the naval captain and continued making arrangements.

"Take your men to the fire truck and wait for orders, conserve your energy. Your mission is to occupy the high ground. If the enemy appears, suppress them immediately with arrows; if the enemy tries to use the rubble to rush into the street, intercept them with all your might. If necessary..." He paused, his voice growing colder, "...prepare for close combat."

After giving his instructions, he found a volunteer leader who was involved in the rescue and ordered him to stop working.

"Take them to change their gear." The centurion's words were concise yet carried an undeniable authority. He pointed to the location of the stored weapons, his fingertip tracing a resolute arc in the air. "After changing their equipment, return to continue the rescue efforts. If the situation becomes critical, immediately lead your team to retreat behind the lines. If necessary, you will serve as reserves for close combat or occupy high ground for long-range suppression. You will lead them!"

These words made the team leader's face tighten. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say something, but under the centurion's calm and stern gaze, he swallowed all his words. He gritted his teeth, nodded heavily, and then quickly gathered his men.

Both shelters and streets were stocked with weapons and armor in advance, sealed in wooden crates or metal cabinets, and neatly stacked, all in preparation for the current extreme situation.

After explaining every conceivable detail, the centurion finally turned his gaze to the ruins beside him. He removed his helmet and listened intently. The wind swept through the street, carrying intermittent sobs and groans, as well as faint cries for help from those nearly buried and unable to breathe.

He closed his eyes in anguish.

Buried beneath those broken walls and ruins were his soldiers, the young lives he had called by name, reprimanded, eaten with, and played with on leave. Two of the hundred-man squads he now commanded were previously added to the unit.

However, he had no other choice.

If he orders a rescue, the already stretched forces will be further dispersed; if he maintains his position...

His chest felt heavy, as if crushed by a boulder, as if he himself were trapped under the rubble. Faced with cruel reality, he could only weigh the established plans against unforeseen circumstances, making each difficult choice.

We must do our utmost to make the most of our limited resources and manpower.

This was his responsibility as commander, and also a silent ordeal.
-
Aislin's previous location was a small park on a gentle slope in the working-class area, a place where residents usually gathered to trade, with noisy vendors and children running around.

After Duruci arrived, the site was requisitioned and transformed into one of the main entrances and exits of the shelter.

After that bastard Fernaff joined the Seafood Feast's ranks, the Trident Bearers, who were originally under Fernaff's command, were now under his command. They had been sent out to support the district, but that didn't mean he had no troops at his disposal.

You bastard, yes, you bastard.

Aislin couldn't help but curse inwardly. In his eyes, Fenafen was a complete scoundrel who, instead of leading his company in battle, used his connections to join the seafood feast and chase after glory.

traitor!

To be honest, he longed for that battlefield too...

But his responsibilities bound him firmly to this place: guarding the shelter, protecting civilians, and maintaining order.

The current deployment of the Sea Guard is quite scattered. A small portion has been drawn by Darrowland to participate in the siege of Tal Achar; a small portion of that is stationed in various fortresses, Marienburg, and Brione to continue to undertake defensive tasks; another portion remains near Wildwood Island, staring at the Duruch Navy, which is also deployed there, quietly waiting for the Battle of Lorthern to end; and a portion has gone to sea with Renn to carry out a secret mission.

Another portion was deployed to Lorthern; these sea guards were all Lorthern sea guards.

These sea guards were divided into three parts: one part was deployed to the passage in the direction of the vast ocean; another part was disbanded to assist the Black Knights in maintaining the security of the district; and the last part, which was the most powerful main force, was kept in reserve and ready to be deployed.

The most elite company in Lorthene Seaguard—the Tide Riders—like other veteran elite companies such as the Dabarok Spear, the Seawatch Guard, and the Siren Company, are currently in a compressed state of silent standby.

This is in order to deal with the current situation.

The Lorthern Sea Guards are all Lorthern's sons. When these Sea Guards appear before the people, their armor, which symbolizes their identity and belonging, is more effective than that of the Duruqi soldiers in stabilizing public sentiment and giving panicked civilians a sense of security.

They belong here.

They are the shield and the spear of this land.

As he rode over, the black knights and sea guards who were responsible for guarding the entrance and exit saluted or bowed to him. He waved to them, but then noticed that one of the black knights did not salute him. Instead, he was half-crouching and disassembling his skirt armor, seemingly ignoring his approach.

He ignored them and went straight into the shelter.

Upon entering the shelter, he was once again stunned by the sight before him. Although he had been here before... more than once, every time he stepped into this underground space, he couldn't help but feel a sense of indescribable awe.

How long has it been?

In such a short time, Duruci had managed to carve out such a large-scale underground refuge. The vaulted ceilings were soaring, and the passageways were wide enough for two heavily laden carriages to pass side by side without any sense of congestion as their wheels rolled over the ground. The lighting system was well-organized, providing bright but not glaring light, and the ventilation system operated steadily, emitting a low but reassuring hum.

If the construction were entrusted to Asur, the blueprint discussion stage alone would take months or even years, and the construction process would inevitably be hampered by numerous cumbersome parliamentary procedures, family interests, and power struggles among artisan factions.

But Duruci never cared about any of that. They had clear goals, unified command, and a chilling yet undeniably effective and swift execution.

"It seems I made the right choice."

He spoke softly to himself, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the surrounding echoes, yet a complex smile slowly crept onto his lips. That smile contained both a clear understanding of reality and utter disillusionment with the old system. In this turbulent era of survival of the fittest and no way out, only such efficient and pragmatic ability could lead the elves out of ruin.

He was lost in his chaotic and deep thoughts when a clear bell sound suddenly came from behind him.

He instinctively turned around and saw a two-wheeled vehicle speeding in from the entrance. He recognized it; it was the black knight who hadn't saluted him earlier.

Is the black knight trying to catch up with him right now?
As for why he made this judgment...

It was very simple. The black knight stood up and frantically pedaled, his movements so forceful that the vehicle swayed from side to side.

He was genuinely worried that the Black Knight would fall to the ground in the next second.

He glanced at it and then ignored it, without even considering stopping to wait for the other party, let alone letting them catch up and engage in some meaningless contest. He simply continued to urge his warhorse deeper into the passage.

The black knight on his two-wheeled vehicle disappeared around the corner; he was on his way to the field hospital to inform them that Chaos was about to appear.
-
The moment he heard the three short and one long horn sounds, Kadjohn's muscles tensed almost instantly, as if he were nailed to the spot by some unseen force. His eyes widened abruptly, his pupils contracted rapidly to the size of pinpoints, and he abruptly stopped breathing.

That bugle call...

He knew all too well the meaning of that bugle call!
That wasn't a warning, nor a call to action; rather, it indicated that some extreme and irreversible situation was approaching.

Immediately afterward, before the distant roar of the explosion had even faded, a second blast of horns relentlessly echoed across the sky. The sound was rapid, piercing, and carried an unyielding authority that allowed no one to misunderstand it; it struck the hearts of every spirit that heard it like a heavy hammer.

He abruptly turned his head, his gaze burning like fire as he looked at the phoenix guards beside him. No words were needed, no questions were asked, just a glance—and it was confirmed.

A complex and indescribable smile instantly appeared on Kadjohn's face.

That smile contained bitterness at the realization of the contingency plan, astonishment that Trucchi could actually bring about such a calamity, but more than anything, it contained an almost resolute disdain for the mockery of fate!
The arc was like a thin line suddenly torn apart in a storm, carrying a ferocious, even almost insane, clarity.

Without further hesitation, he raised his right arm high, every muscle in his arm taut and defined. The next second, his arm, like a halberd, pressed down with immense force!
The movement was swift and heavy, as if the blow would cleave through the chaotic air.

"Asuyan!"

Keng——!
With a unified and awe-inspiring metallic roar, the Phoenix Guards on the street swung their halberds, symbols of eternal oaths, forward at an angle. The halberds reflected light, their sharp tips forming a cold and desolate forest of death.

In that instant, the air seemed to be sliced ​​apart by a sharp blade, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath in the cold light.

There were no shouts, no clamor, only heavy, orderly footsteps, like pounding on the heart. The Phoenix Guardians began their march, like a moving wall, resolutely advancing forward.

As they marched, the team grew and expanded like a snowball through the streets of Lorthern.

Their footsteps were like war drums, shaking the air in the neighborhood.

Their strength gradually expanded, transforming into a mixed combat group. There were Asur volunteers, Black Knights and Sea Guards responsible for maintaining order, and scattered White Lion Guards joining the ranks. They were silent but resolute.

Koshir and Alicia were among them.

When they finally converged, like a stream of destiny, at the sacred square connecting the noble district and the Phoenix Royal Court, the group had swelled to nearly three hundred people.

Footsteps echoed across the wide stone pavement, like the prelude to an ancient war song.

This team, composed of elves of different identities and beliefs, stood before the gates of the Phoenix Royal Court. They themselves were the embodiment of the elves' indomitable will and the most direct and tragic answer to the horn of disaster!
Their shadows stretched out across the square, overlapping each other as if merging into one, becoming the last line of defense against the apocalypse.

This scene was filled with a powerful and moving force, like a tragic and magnificent painting destined to be recorded in history. (End of Chapter)