Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Once everything was ready, the Black Knight silently took out a silver cigarette case from the inside of his armor. The metal clasp clicked open under his fingertips, a crisp sound that carried a hint of inexplicable chill.

He handed the cigarette case to the captain of the naval guard.

The captain instinctively tried to wave his hand; he had never touched tobacco, and even found the smell of smoke too strong. He preferred to exchange the allowance given to him by Duruci for sweet candies, cookies, and canned fruit to take home and share with his family. But when he saw the other man's eyes, hidden by the helmet's shadow yet still conveying a quiet pressure, he froze.

After hesitating for a moment, he reached out and took a cigarette from the neatly arranged, almost military-like stacks.

He knew very well that this might be the last and only enjoyment before the fierce battle ahead.

The Black Knight took a half-step forward, his movements as steady as a steel statue awakening. He struck a lighter, and as he lit the captain's cigarette, he turned the cigarette case to face the sea guards standing solemnly around him.

With the captain setting an example, the guards stepped forward one by one, silently taking out cigarettes from their cigarette cases.

The Black Knight mechanically lit the first few lighters, his leather gloves tapping against the lighter casing, producing a soft, clicking sound. The light flashed across Haiwei's face, illuminating taut, weary profiles that remained steadfast in their commitment.

He quickly lost patience, and with a flick of his wrist, shoved the lighter into the hand of a sea guard.

"do it yourself."

The lighter was passed along the queue and eventually returned to the Black Knight. Only then did he slowly raise his cigarette and light his own.

The captain choked violently after taking his first puff, his back arched, his shoulders trembling, and his face flushed red. When he finally caught his breath, he looked up at the Black Knight, only to see clearly in the lamplight that the other man's fingers, holding the cigarette, were trembling slightly.

It wasn't excitement, nor was it cold; rather, it was a deep-seated, instinctive reaction stemming from experience, a memory of something awakening his body's deepest fears.

This discovery made the captain's heart tighten.

Even this black knight, who was always as solid as iron... was trembling.

So what kind of horrors will we face next?
Have you...experienced this?

After a moment, the captain, who had gotten used to the smell of smoke, slowly exhaled the smoke he had inhaled, his voice low and solemn.

"When I was still a mercenary."

"Will they... appear?" the captain pressed, his voice carrying a tension he himself was unaware of, a fear fueled by a desperate desire for confirmation.

"should?"

The Black Knight took a deep drag, and a third of his cigarette burned instantly. He frowned and gave an ambiguous, even nonchalant, yet chilling answer.

He really didn't know.

The arrival of chaos is never predictable, and this unresolved waiting is a hundred times more agonizing than waiting for a dragon to attack at midday.

Just as the smoke slowly dissipated from his nostrils and mouth, a series of footsteps approached from afar. The footsteps were heavy and orderly, followed by the low, echoing sound of clashing armor.

He knew this was not an enemy.

"You stay here, I'll go find out what's going on."

He turned to the captain, who had also become alert, and before he could finish speaking, and before the captain could nod, he had already turned and strode towards the door of the connecting passage.

Inside the passage, a well-organized, heavily armed 100-man squad led by Duruci was advancing from the entrance. He leaned silently against the wall, the cold metal armor scraping against the stone wall, producing a low, sharp sound like a blade cutting through rock, his gaze calmly scrutinizing the silent marching force.

The centurion's presence did not halt the formation; he maintained precise ranks and rhythm. When the centurion marched steadily toward him, he paused slightly, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and then uttered a brief remark.

"There's more later!"

The centurion then followed his men forward without stopping.

The Black Knight nodded, threw the remaining cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it with the sole of his boot, then silently turned and stepped back into the hall.

"What's going on?" the captain asked impatiently as he stepped forward, his voice filled with anxiety and even a hint of involuntary hoarseness. The surrounding sea guards and civilians who could hear the commotion also cast concerned and uneasy glances, and even the air seemed to tremble as if a taut string had been pulled.

"Return to reinforce!" the Black Knight raised his voice, speaking with a resounding tone that struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer. It was not only a reply to the captain but also a message to all those present who were unsettled, an attempt to restore order.

Upon hearing this, the captain let out a long sigh of relief, as if half the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. His tense body visibly relaxed slightly, and even the grip on his weapon loosened. But then he tentatively asked again, pointing with his finger towards the interior of the hall where they were.

"We...are here?"

The captain's probing precisely struck at the Black Knight's deepest concerns. He fully understood what the captain meant—while the hall was indeed spacious, the excessive number of vehicles parked inside severely hampered the troop's deployment and mobility, making it extremely unfavorable for internal defensive operations.

This involves a cold and cruel problem of probability.

The Black Knight was silent for a moment, his breath catching slightly for a second. His gaze slowly swept over every terrified face in the hall; some were holding children, their arms trembling; some were clutching daggers, believing they would bring them safety; and others were clutching the hem of their clothes.

He finally turned his gaze back to the captain's face.

Without a word, the instincts of a professional soldier had already made the judgment for him.

This hall won't be a priority defense zone for a long time. It's too close to the main entrance, and in this situation, proximity isn't an advantage. All reinforcements will bypass this area and advance deeper into the shelter's core, critical nodes. Unless the worst-case scenario occurs—a portal opening directly inside the hall—the first wave of reinforcements won't linger here for even half a second.

As the Black Knight, he has the power to make decisions on the spot, but his choices are actually suffocatingly limited.

He could order the civilians to gather in a corner, push over or move the vehicles to build makeshift fortifications, and then he would lead a group of naval guards to hold the front, while the captain and his men would occupy the rooftops for long-range suppression. The gamble was that reinforcements would rush in as soon as they heard the sounds of fighting and screams.

But if there are too many enemies, he and his men won't be able to hold out for long.

It wouldn't be surprising if they didn't last more than a few minutes.

If the monsters that appear are blocked, you can kill them all and then turn around to fight the reinforcements.

As for the power of ordinary people… he never counted on it. He had faced those terrifying beings head-on and knew all too well that the mental impact of such attacks was far beyond what ordinary people could withstand. The feeling of being stared at, hated, and touched by the will of chaos could instantly destroy the mind of an untrained person.

That's why he made that gesture and said that when he handed the dagger to Lyrian.

Another option is to maintain the status quo and gamble on the probability.

The portal may or may not appear.

However, once the portal opens in that deadly open space between the entrance and the hall, he and his group of sea guards and civilians will be instantly cut off and surrounded... that would be a true massacre.

There was no resistance, no defense, only destruction.

Even if he ultimately survives, his military career... comes to an end.

The last option is... to go to a more critical location.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slightly. The air, a mixture of helplessness and determination, sliced ​​through his throat like a scorching blade. Finally, he spoke, his voice resolute.

"leave here!"

"Where to?" The captain's expression changed instantly, and he subconsciously straightened up.

The surrounding sea guards also became visibly tense.

"The passage!" the Black Knight uttered, the word short, heavy, and irrefutable.

Upon hearing this clear instruction, the captain's expression relaxed. He seemed to have finally landed on solid ground, and nodded firmly. This decision, though seemingly risky, was actually the safest, at least proactive and with a clear direction. It was far better than remaining in this spacious but defenseless hall, like a giant cage for lambs to the slaughter.

Having made his final decision, the Black Knight hesitated no longer. He strode to the center of the hall, climbed up the vehicle's side steps to the roof, and his armor gleamed coldly under the lights, like a black banner awakening before a storm. He raised his arms, took a deep breath, and then his booming voice instantly drowned out all the uneasy whispers and rustles.

"Attention! Everyone, heed my command!"

His voice carried an unquestionable authority and oppressive force, so powerful that even the air seemed to tremble, instantly drawing the attention of the entire public.

"We are about to move to the internal passage! Now, remain calm and follow Haiwei's instructions to move in an orderly manner!"

He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd with sharp intensity, as if to confirm whether everyone had truly listened. He continued to reassure everyone with clear and resolute instructions.

"Remember! Once you reach the passage, stand close to the wall and don't hinder the reinforcements. If you encounter any inexplicable anomalies, such as... a distorted portal of light appearing out of nowhere, do not look! Do not be curious! Especially children, cover their eyes!"

At this point, his voice unconsciously lowered, carrying a shadow and caution that only someone who has truly faced chaos would possess.

"Get away from the portal as quickly as possible, and run towards the exit or the passage! Remember, stay close to the wall when you run! Don't block the passage! Those Duruchi aren't as easy to talk to as I am! Leave the fighting to us! Your mission is to survive, understand?"

"Understood..." The responses were sparse and fragmented, like fallen leaves scattered by the wind.

"Do you understand?!" the Black Knight roared, his voice shattering all hesitation and fear.

"I understand..." The voice was slightly louder, but still trembled with uncertainty.

"Do you understand?!" He glared, his eyes burning like two balls of cold fire as he roared again.

This time, the air in the hall was finally pushed to a boiling point.

"clear!!!"

His words and the responses of the common people acted as a shot in the arm; they could not completely dispel the fear, but they brought something of vital importance: direction, order, and a force to rely on.

Guided by the guards, the crowd, like a slow but purposeful stream, trembled but steadily converged towards the entrance to the inner passage.
-

The weaver closed her eyes, her cleansed hands hovering above the wounded soldier's bloodied and mangled neck. In her left hand she held a strangely shaped conduit, the core of which was not ordinary iron, but a flexible, seemingly still slightly pulsating black vine. At the tip of the vine was embedded a tiny, rice-grain-sized Geron energy stone, radiating a soft, vibrant green light.

In her right hand, she held a thin, long puncture needle.

In her perception, the appearance of the world had faded away. The wounded soldier's body was no longer a lifeless entity, but had transformed into an energy landscape woven from vitality, searing pain, and flesh and blood. She saw those powerful, pulsating rivers radiating a fiery red glow of life—arteries, and relatively calm veins.

"found it."

The moment she finished speaking, her wrist remained as steady as a rock. Relying solely on her energy perception, she precisely pierced the most surging red river of life with the sharp needle tip.

Dark red blood immediately began to slowly seep out from the channel at the end of the needle.

What comes next is the key.

Her consciousness, like an invisible tentacle, became inextricably linked to the tiny Giron energy stone at the tip of the conduit. In an instant, the energy stone's light became bright and stable, no longer flickering. Driven by her will, the guide wire, with the living vine at its core, seemed to be endowed with a unique life.

It is no longer a cold, pushed machine, but more like a water snake returning to its source, flowing lightly, smoothly, and steadily against the flow of blood towards the heart, following the natural rhythm of blood flow.

Her entire being was immersed in the microscopic perceptions fed back from the energy stone. She could feel the gentle undulations of the blood vessel walls ahead, sense the faint resistance flowing from the tiny branching paths, and even hear the faint resonance and pull between the energy stone and the residual, life-originating wind within the wounded soldier's body.

This resonance, like the most precise navigation, guided her along the safest and straightest path to the core. Any minor obstacle along the way, such as a small blood clot formed from trauma, melted and disintegrated rapidly like remnants of ice in spring, under the vibrant, gentle green light of the Gellium Energy Stone. This was not achieved by brute force, but by the guidance and purification of life force itself.

In just a few breaths, the guidewire had reached the predetermined depth.

"The passageway is now complete."

The weaver spoke, her voice tinged with undisguised weariness. Following the life-giving railroad paved with magic and willpower, she smoothly guided the living vine conduit into place. Once the tip of the conduit was firmly anchored in the target blood vessel, she severed the mental connection to the energy stone.

The guidewire was carefully withdrawn, and the outer end of the catheter was securely sutured and fixed to the skin.

The weaver, having completed all of this, finally opened her eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering. She picked up a bottle of liquid containing healing energy, the exact ingredients of which she herself was not entirely clear about, and attached it to the connector at the end of the catheter.

The medicine began to drip in through this newly opened life-giving channel.

She didn't go back to the wounded soldier who had lost all four limbs and was still unconscious, because she knew that, at least for this moment, she had bought him some precious time. She didn't participate in the volunteers' and soldiers' subsequent work of moving the wounded soldier, but instead leaned wearily against the edge of the platform next to her, closed her eyes, and forced herself into a brief state of rest.

She just completed a highly difficult operation to establish a central venous access, relying solely on her superb magical perception and manipulation, without any ultrasound equipment assistance.

This smooth yet extremely mentally taxing process took a huge toll on her mental energy; fine beads of sweat had appeared on her forehead, and her face was paler than before.

"You are very……"

Having already finished dealing with the wounded, Alasya, who had been quietly observing the whole process with bated breath, couldn't help but take half a step forward after the Weaver completed that incredibly exquisite operation. She wanted to offer her sincere compliments, and even prepared her tone in advance.

"Ok?"

The weaver opened her eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly, a hint of amusement and anticipation on her face.

Clearly, she was waiting for Alasia to deliver that compliment that truly touched her heart.

"Ok?"

Alasya was about to utter the word "excellent" when his Adam's apple suddenly caught in his throat. His words abruptly stopped, and he stood frozen in place, his gaze involuntarily shifting to the empty space beside him. It was an ordinary spot, but in that instant, he felt as if cold fingers were lightly touching the back of his neck, and a chill ran from his skin all the way down his spine.

He seemed to sense something.

There was something indescribable in the air silently watching him, its gaze cold and viscous, like salty tentacles flowing from the deepest abyss, yet too light to be grasped.

Strangely, he couldn't pinpoint the source of that thing with his second vision.

The perception did not come from intuition, magic, or training, but rather more like... from some deeper, ancient bloodline pulsation?
It was as if something long dormant within the body was gently awakened for a moment by some external stimulus.

He himself couldn't explain that strange feeling.

"what happened?"

The Weaver followed Alasia's gaze, her brow furrowing slightly. But in her keen perception, that area was empty, devoid of energy fluctuations or signs of danger.

"nothing."

Alasya shook his head vigorously, forcibly shaking off the unease that had suddenly struck him. He took a deep breath, pulling his attention back to reality from the indescribable feeling of suffocation, and looked at his four fellow spellcasters around him, speaking seriously.

"What if..."

Not all spellcasters are skilled in combat, nor can everyone unleash earth-shattering destructive spells on the front lines like battle mages.

For example, Alasya was better at theoretical research, document compilation, academic exploration, and... spending his eldest son's money than personally going into battle.

In the end, the money was spent, but the curse on the dragon armor was never resolved...

Or perhaps it's because some spellcasters specialize in a particular area, making it unnecessary for them to be deployed as regular combat forces on the battlefield.

Therefore, these non-combat-specialized spellcasters were assigned to various key logistics and support nodes.

Alasia's wife volunteered to fight the fire, while he was assigned to this field hospital. Besides him and the spellweaver from Asororen, there were two spellcasters from Emerald Gardens and a full-fledged mage from the White Tower of Hoth.

Here, the weavers are the strongest and have the most stable position.

The contingency plan had already been clearly defined: in the event of any unforeseen circumstances, she would serve as the core leader, with Alasya and other spellcasters working together to respond.

Alasya wanted to reaffirm the arrangement to ensure everyone understood their responsibilities and wouldn't be caught off guard when chaos ensued.

However, what responded to him was not the words of the weaver.

"careful!"

A deep yet penetrating shout suddenly rang out.

The next instant, the Hos White Tower official mage standing diagonally behind Alasya suddenly reached out and grabbed Alasya's collar and arm, ruthlessly and even roughly pulling his entire body backward!

The movement was so swift that it seemed to slice through the surrounding air. Before Alasya could even cry out in surprise, he stumbled and was pulled more than half a meter away from his original position.

Annesera leaned against the cold wall, her back slightly numb from the cold, her hand tightly gripping the heavy dagger, her fingertips almost sinking into the leather-wrapped hilt.

She was appointed as the leader of this group of volunteers. Although her heart was pounding in her chest, almost breaking her ribs, and fear was creeping up her limbs and throat like cold vines, she forced herself to suppress her trembling and comforted the equally terrified people around her in the calmest, yet hoarse, voice she could muster.

"It'll be alright... Let's stay close together, don't separate..." She repeated these pale but necessary words over and over, as if constantly reminding others, and also trying to steady herself. Her gaze anxiously and warily swept every corner of the hall, trying to catch any signs of trouble.

The moment she finished speaking, a shrill scream exploded like thunder, violently tearing apart the tense silence!
"Prepare for battle!" The centurion's voice suddenly rose, filled with unprecedented urgency and vigilance.

The weaver's slightly weary expression from casting spells was instantly replaced by a steely coldness, as if her previous fatigue was nothing more than a thin layer of ice that could shatter at any moment. She abruptly drew her magic sword and staff from the platform below, then quickly retreated to create a safe distance.

"Withdraw! Withdraw!"

"Quick! Block that portal!"

The chaotic shouts clashed and collided in the air like sharp blades, shattering the peace in an instant!

Annesella's heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible giant hand, and her gaze was instinctively drawn to the center of the hall. The next second, her eyes widened in utter horror, her pupils contracting violently to pinpoints, and she even forgot to breathe.

Right between the two treatment platforms, the air suddenly swelled up like a piece of flesh that had rotted to the extreme, its surface twisting and undulating as if it might burst open at any moment!

It wasn't torn apart, but rather swollen and festering like some huge, malicious abscess. In the next instant, a portal with yellowish-green viscous light constantly seeping from its edges was forcibly squeezed out of the ruptured spatial abscess!

An indescribable stench, a mixture of severe decay, putrefied slime, and a strong odor of disease, spread like a tangible shockwave, instantly engulfing the entire hall. It was so powerful, like an invisible giant hand slapping everyone in the face, causing many to cover their mouths, gag, or even stumble backward.

The portal's interior wasn't nothingness, but rather a churning, murky, morbidly yellowish-green fog, layer upon layer, twisting and turning like a turbulent pool of putrid liquid. Within the fog, indescribable shadows could be vaguely seen writhing, their outlines sticky and distorted, accompanied by slippery friction sounds, heavy, morbid coughs, and the constant bubbling and bursting of mucus—a chilling sound that sent shivers down one's spine and made one's heart stop.

Anisera felt a wave of intense nausea and dizziness wash over her, her stomach churning so violently it felt like it was about to churn in her throat. She stared at the ever-expanding portal, emanating an ominous and filthy aura, and a thought pierced her mind like an ice pick, chilling her to the bone.

They've arrived!
It's really coming!

Just as that nauseating portal swelled up in the center of the hall like a festering sore, spreading a deadly stench, the reserve team, which had been in a standby state, was instantly infused with life!
Those soldiers and snake-men who were either sitting in chairs with their eyes closed, or curled up on the ground, suddenly opened their eyes almost simultaneously. As if awakened by an invisible electric current, their pupils contracted sharply, and their bodies sprang to their feet like taut springs. Without the slightest hesitation or doubt, the instinct for battle had replaced all other thoughts.

The sounds of metal armor rubbing together, belt buckles clicking, weapons being drawn, and snake-man scales scraping the ground—these previously scattered sounds now converged into a rapidly rising, brief yet deadly symphony, as if foreshadowing an impending bloody battle.

The soldiers who were originally responsible for blocking the main entrances to the hall, under the command of their officers—short, forceful, and storm-like gestures and shouts—forcefully suppressed their almost nauseating physical urges. Their faces were ashen, their eyes red-rimmed, yet they gritted their teeth, turned around, and launched a desperate counterattack against the source of the filth!

They tried to forcefully block the forming portal like a dam of despair, using their bodies, shields, weapons, and anything else that could form an obstacle, before the portal was fully stable and the demon army could fully pour out.

It was an act that was almost suicidal, but it was also a soldier's instinctive counterattack.

The atmosphere in the entire hall was as tense as a bowstring stretched to its limit; even the slightest tremor seemed capable of snapping it. Every second felt like an eternity, and every breath felt as heavy as if one were about to be crushed by death.

All eyes were fixed on the portal that was constantly twisting and solidifying, emanating a strong aura of plague.

Strangely, it seemed to be struggling, like a deformed fetus struggling to be born in a filthy womb, desperately trying to squeeze into this world, but being hindered by some invisible force.

The fleshy membrane of light swelled in waves, its surface floating with pus-like patterns, twisting, sticking together, bulging and collapsing, as if brewing some unimaginable monster.

However, it is precisely this state of wanting to come out but not coming out that brings the most extreme psychological pressure.

People gripped their weapons tightly, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had no idea what terrifying, monstrous creatures that should never exist would emerge from that disgusting, suffocating light screen in the next second.

at this time.

tread!tread!tread!
Heavy, rapid footsteps came like timely rain from both sides of the connecting hall. The echoes of the footsteps amplified between the stone walls, shaking everyone's eardrums like a troop of iron cavalry about to charge into battle.

The sound rapidly approached, carrying an unstoppable force.

On one side, there were the iconic black armor of the Duruqi soldiers, the dark metal reflecting a cold light in the shadows, making them look like an iron torrent emerging from the shadows of the abyss.

On the other side, there are the familiar blue and white battle robes of the Lorthern Sea Guards, their steady shields and unwavering eyes. They are the soldiers who protect their homeland and the rock that keeps people's hearts at ease.

Reinforcements have arrived!
Without the slightest hesitation, the two fresh forces, under the officers' command, quickly deployed the moment they rushed into the passageway. Their movements were fluid and seamless, each soldier performing with such skill that it was almost as if they were executing some kind of instinct etched into their very bones.

Just like a competition held remotely, the two teams, one on the left and one on the right, raised their shield walls, pointed their spears, and the entire deployment process took less than five seconds, taking over the defensive line established by the wounded in a very short time.

However, just as order was about to be restored and the defenses were already in place...

The portal, radiating extreme filth and ominousness, vanished into thin air like a punctured boil, with a soft "poof" sound after a violent and unsettling energy ripple, along with its nauseating yellowish-green light and stench!

It disappeared too abruptly, too easily, too... unrealistically.

If it weren't for the lingering, faint stench of decay in the air, and the still-blue faces and unsteady breathing of many people, their experience would have seemed like a collective hallucination. The eerie, abrupt feeling sent chills down their spines, and some even involuntarily turned to look back, as if they might see that nauseating portal of light expand and reappear at any moment.

The crisis... seems to have been temporarily averted?

But this sudden and anticlimactic ending did not bring relief; instead, it left a deeper gloom and doubt in everyone's hearts.

Where did it go?
Was it sabotaged? Interrupted? Or... did it retreat on its own?

Or……

Is this just the beginning?
This oppressive unknown is more likely to tear at the mind than any monster. The tense atmosphere did not dissipate; it simply changed form, transforming into a heavier, suffocating silence awaiting the next shoe to drop.

Arasiah and the Weaver, who were already prepared for battle, exchanged a glance. They noticed that the magical winds swirling around them were beginning to diminish, but they didn't communicate or shout out loud. They wanted to continue observing before drawing a final conclusion.

Meanwhile, another world suddenly became exceptionally lively.

A frenzied roar, red-hot and deafening, echoed through the garden, causing the withered trees around to tremble and the corroded ground to bulge and collapse in waves… (End of Chapter)