Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"It wasn't like this when I first came here."

Raine stood at the edge of the dock, the sea breeze ruffling strands of his black hair, as if trying to stir up long-dormant memories. His gaze swept over everything before him, falling deeper into the mountain town that had once existed in his memory in a different, desolate way.

This statement is less of a lament and more of a very light yet profound sigh, as if sixty years of time were weighed down in that breath, heavy with emotion.

This was his second trip to Zetland.

The last time was sixty years ago—when Darkus came to the continent of Lustria for the second time.

Because he could discover hidden passageways, he was sent here by Dakotas, along with his gambling buddies Shaxpatty, Roxia, and Dastan.

Of course, it wasn't just those four.

With these two gambling buddies present, it naturally means that the two fearsome black arks, the Tower of the Wicked and the Vanguard of Despair, must have also arrived in this area like a persistent shadow.

The ark carried lizardman reinforcements drawn from various temple cities across the continent of Ruscia.

However, when Raine first set foot on this land, Zetland before him had nothing to do with the words "sanctuary" or "living city."

If I had to find a word to describe it, it would be—utterly worn out.

Although the city's most central wonder, the incubation pool that nourishes the race, continues to operate tenaciously, emitting a faint but warm light, the Southern Jungle is simply too vast. War, attrition, and the long passage of time are like an invisible maw, greedily and endlessly devouring every bit of new life.

The situation was like a cruel math problem: a pool simultaneously receiving and releasing water.

The hatching pools were like the thin, almost broken inlets; while the endless conflicts and depletion of the entire South were like several wide-open sluice gates.

The result was obvious—the water in the pool gradually dried up.

The situation here is far worse than on the continent of Ruscia.

When resources are scarce to the extreme, it leads to a near-tragic downgrading of their use.

The lizardmen warriors served as temple guards, while the spirit lizards who were supposed to be in charge of management, construction, and recording knowledge had to take up spears and blowguns to fill the gaps in the lizardmen's battle lines.

This is not some guerrilla warfare, perimeter defense, flank protection, or operating behemoths; it is a proper frontline defense.

Thus, Zetland, and indeed the entire South, fell into a silent, slow suffocation.

The streets were deserted, with only the wind swirling withered leaves and gravel across the stone pavement;
The pillars are broken, and the sound of the wind leaking through the gaps is like the low weeping of some ancient creature.

The workshop was quiet, lacking the skillful hands to operate the complex machinery.

It wasn't a ruin, but it was more somber than any ruin.

It was a giant who was still breathing, still struggling, but whose vital signs were irreversibly declining. Each breath felt like being dragged back from the shadows, painful and exhausted, yet stubbornly refusing to fall.

The tide of memories slowly recedes.

Raine blinked, bringing his breath back to the real world, and refocusing on the boiling, noisy, pungent yet vibrant scene before him.

Sixty years, along with the intervention of a powerful will, finally caused this nearly dried-up pool of water to ripple again.

Not only here, but also in Ashriel, the continent of Lustria, and Nagaros.

This is now.

There's a future too!

He stood there quietly, letting the clamor envelop him like waves crashing against the shore. A long-lost, almost scorching emotion rose from the depths of his chest, as if rekindled by some invisible hand, spreading through his veins to every part of his body—he liked this feeling.

I genuinely like it!

It wasn't the pleasure of a successful conspiracy, the satisfaction of holding power, or even the awe of witnessing a miracle. It was something purer, something more primal: life itself.

That raw, warm, and even slightly wild vitality seeped into his senses through the gaps in the air, making him feel as if he could hear a long-dormant part of his body being awakened.

Sixty years ago, when he stepped into the city on the broken steps almost swallowed by moss, he breathed in the scent of slow death. The stones were cold, the corridors were empty, and the damp, sour smell of decay seemed to seep out from the depths of the rock walls; even the glint of light in the lizardman's eyes seemed weary and scattered, like flickering embers on a dying furnace.

And now...

Everything twisted into a rough and scalding current of life, crashing into the depths of his senses, washing over his senses, which, as Duruci, were already accustomed to cold calculation and cruel elegance.

awesome!
Yes, that's the word. Without hesitation, and without embellishment.

This naked, undisguised, and even somewhat noisy way of living held an almost luxurious attraction for him.

This reminded him of the feeling when he first held a weapon, not of killing, but of the pure excitement of power surging through his muscles, the fervent thrill of realizing he could do something.

The Zetland before him was like a colossal beast awakening from a long hibernation, each breath exhaling waves of heat, every inch of its body brimming with power eager to be used and released. The pulse of the city seemed to be in sync with his own heartbeat, making the blood in his chest feel heavy and scalding.

He unconsciously took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air mixed with smoke, sea salt, and stone dust. The smell was rough and raw, yet strangely comforting. An uncontrollable, subtle, genuine smile curved his lips upward. It wasn't a polite smile, nor was it some kind of deliberately crafted expression; it was instinct, a reaction of the body faster than the mind.

Build, not destroy.

To grow, not to wither.

Noisy, not silent.

This feeling... is so captivating. It's like suddenly seeing the light of a lighthouse after a long, dark voyage, not because it guides you to some path of salvation, but because the light itself is so intense, so vivid, that its very existence is enough to stir the soul.

He liked it, he really liked it. The city's renewed heartbeat was washing over him with a strange resonance.

This is fantastic.

After expressing his feelings, he had to take charge of coordination and communication, which is when Shymara was no longer sufficient.

Carrying heavy luggage and supplies, spear in hand, shield hanging from his arm, Galian lined up in the designated area of ​​the dock as instructed. The initial tension was worn down by the long wait, turning into boredom. His gaze began to wander aimlessly across the unfamiliar waters, as if trying to grasp something from the shimmering waves to distract himself.

Then, he saw the fins.

At first, it was just a silent, dark triangle cutting across the water in the distance, like a solitary, moving reef shadow, quiet yet carrying an unsettling purpose. But soon, the shadow drew closer, and the water surged and churned as if squeezed by something enormous, its arc breaking the surface to reveal the massive scale hidden beneath. It wasn't the dorsal fin of an ordinary shark or large fish; it was higher, thicker, and more… ferocious.

The keratinous, spiky protrusions are faintly visible along the back of the fin, giving it a primal, weapon-like texture in the sunlight, as if just one glance would make you feel the stinging pain of your skin being cut.

Galian involuntarily swallowed, the sound of his Adam's apple bobbing clearly audible even to himself in the focused silence, almost vibrating his eardrums. Compared to this, the sea monsters he had hunted during his previous service seemed like a joke, or even less than a joke; they were merely some pathetic small-scale drill.

The reason is simple: the fin is too big.

So large that he could instantly sketch the outline of the body beneath the surface in his mind: slender yet powerful, heavy yet agile, it was no marine creature he could ever imagine.

It was the form of a predator, a cruel silhouette that had never changed since ancient times.

Just as his gaze was locked onto that giant fin, the water surface suddenly burst open!

A colossal, spine-chilling head emerged proudly from the water, its skin, covered in thick, keratinous scales, gleaming wetly in the sunlight with a yellowish-green sheen. Each scale resembled a piece of iron sculpted by a knife or axe. Its snout was like that of a crocodile, but even thicker and more ferocious, its jaws filled with dagger-like, cone-shaped teeth, which were now tightly gripping a fiercely struggling, striped giant fish almost half the length of a small boat.

The terrifying predator violently swung its head from side to side, the movement as brutal as tearing apart some insignificant piece of cloth. The immense force of its bite caused seawater mixed with fish blood and scale fragments to explode into a crimson mist, the stench of which wafted on the wind, making Galian's stomach churn.

It finished its hunt and began to swallow slowly. With each swallow, its throat would rise and fall, like a slow but effortless meat grinder.

That calm cruelty sent a chill down Gallian's spine.

The gasps around him pulled Galian's gaze away from the shocking scene, and he looked towards the wider expanse of water.

More than one.

Similar, enormous dorsal fins sliced ​​through the water, slowly and powerfully gliding across the surface, each with a commanding rhythm. Some arched their jagged backs in the shallows, revealing the chilling sail-like or spiky protrusions on their spines, like some kind of battle flag from another world.

Some are deep within, leaving only a moving, threatening shadow, under which occasionally a fleeting reflection flashes, whether from scales or some kind of organ, it is unclear.

Two others seemed to be engaged in some kind of contest, their huge tails slapping the water's surface with a dull, drum-like roar, sending up waves taller than a person before crashing heavily against the edge of the dock.

Garian subconsciously counted.

One, two, three... eleven, twelve.

There were twelve in total.

Twelve living, enormous beasts, each the size of a small warship, nonchalantly treated this body of water as their hunting ground and backyard. Further away on the pier, some spirit lizards who appeared to be animal tamers seemed completely accustomed to this. They would even emit a specific, sharp hiss when the Spinosaurus got too close, while the Spinosaurus would lazily wag its tail and turn away, as if it were just a wild but still manageable neighbor.

"Engrossed in watching? That's a Spinosaurus." Silmara's voice rang out, cracking a joke. "Don't worry, they'll come ashore and make you their snack. These big guys prefer fish. But... if you fall in, that's a different story. They're quite enthusiastic about anything that falls into the water."

Spinosaurus is an important component of the Lizardmen's Yellowwater Navy, a unique naval force specializing in near-shore defense. Unfortunately, due to their inherent characteristics, these colossal beasts are firmly confined to the vicinity of the coast, and their deterrent power has a clear boundary.

Faced with ships like the Trucchi, encased in heavy iron armor, their prized tactics proved inadequate. Those massive teeth that could easily tear apart wooden planks could only produce a few feeble sparks when biting into the cold iron plates; their terrifying size, enough to capsize small galleys, was also difficult to utilize against the much larger steel hulls.

But that doesn't matter, after all, the two sides are already close allies. However, when dealing with other fleets that still primarily use timber, the power of these sea monsters is quite different... it will be a desperate scene of planks breaking and hulls capsizing.

Interestingly, the Spinosaurus currently patrolling near Zetland Wharf was captured with the assistance of Durucci's allies. The location was the Turtle Islands on the left side of the Lustia continent. After capture, they were transported to Chapeyuto and kept in specially designed, massive enclosures simulating the deep-sea environment, undergoing a lengthy taming process. Once their wild nature had subsided and they could understand basic commands, they were transported across the ocean via the Lizardmen's Green Ark and finally settled here.

That was the only batch; there were no successors. The reason is that the temple cities on the continent of Lustia do not inherently need such a yellow-water navy. Apart from the special port of Chappeyuto, there are no other seaport cities on the entire continent.

The former Vampire Coast, since the death of White Haken at sea, has vanished, and the area is now known as the Huta Coast. However, Huta itself is some distance from the coastline and is not a port city in the traditional sense.

After Dakous's third visit to the continent of Lustria, a grand plan was put into practice: to dig a canal to connect the seven central cities of the continent: Taranxla, Taraxlan, Zahuitak, Tarax, Huta, Horotto, and Juitex.

If this project were to be completed by ordinary means, it would be an immense undertaking. However, in the face of the power of magic, it was a piece of cake. Master Ma simply closed his eyes and focused his mind to survey the earth's veins. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, a complete blueprint for the canal network was formed in his mind and immediately put into practice.

Ah, the power of magic!
Now, this canal has become the lifeline of central Ruscia, playing an irreplaceable role in the flow of goods, daily exchanges, and troop deployment. Once everything settles down, it can also serve as a waterway connecting the distant seas and the vast ocean.

But things aren't stable yet.

The direct waterway connecting the vast ocean to Dahuta has not yet been fully opened.

Holoto is located at the western end of the continent, but it is not a seaport. Instead, it is a canal city built on canals. Although there is an outlet to the sea on its left, the outlets to the sea in places like Starlight City and Astro are all shrouded in a thick magical mist.

Those who trespass rashly will only find themselves lost and confused; and if they are lucky enough to stumble into the inner river, the lizardmen will have no choice but to have a good talk with these uninvited guests.

As for Chappejuto, it has Trucchi's fleet stationed there year-round for defense, and not just the fleet, but also...

Therefore, the lizardmen active on the continent of Lustria needed not a yellow-water navy suitable for open coastal waters, but a brown-water navy capable of maneuvering nimbly in winding canals. They needed pliosaurs, more adapted to narrow waterways and possessing incredible explosive power, rather than spiny dragons patrolling off the coast.

Galian withdrew his gaze, gripped his spear tightly again, and then shifted his attention away from the unsettling giant fins to the area on the left side of the dock that he could not comprehend at all.

There stood numerous devices he had never heard of before, gleaming with the cold light of metal and some kind of transparent material under the sunlight. Huge box-like structures were half-submerged in water, the water inside slowly swirling, and strange, grotesque shadows could be vaguely seen swimming within. Further on the water's surface, grid-like or cage-like objects floated, their astonishing scale almost covering a large area of ​​the nearshore waters.

Fish rafts? Fish farm?

He couldn't find a corresponding reference within his knowledge base.

"That's a deep-sea simulation chamber."

Thelmara's voice rang out at just the right moment, answering his silent question.

“Deep-sea simulation chamber?” Garian repeated subconsciously, the phrase sounding both unfamiliar and full of precise mechanical feeling.

“Yes, a breeding system.” Thelmara’s voice was steady, as if stating a basic fact. “It can simulate the deep-sea environment, ensuring that creatures from the deep sea can still survive and even reproduce healthily, far from their natural habitat. It can automatically regulate the temperature, pressure, light and water quality inside the tank, completely replicating the living conditions of the deep sea, and ensuring that the internal environment is always maintained in the best condition.”

He slightly raised his chin, gesturing towards the vast, grid-like body of water.

"That row is an underwater ecological network. The principle is similar to that of a deep-sea simulation tank, but on a larger scale, and it is laid directly in the bay or lake. It is a complex device that can simulate and optimize the natural aquatic environment. It can cultivate specific fish, shellfish or algae by precisely adjusting the nutrients, temperature and light cycle in the water. With this system, the supply of aquatic products can be highly self-sufficient, and it can even be used to selectively cultivate larger and higher quality species."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the shimmering sea as if searching for something. After a moment, he pointed to an inconspicuous buoy-like object in the distance, bobbing gently with the waves.

"Look at that, that's a bio-photopredator. It can emit light of specific wavelengths and frequencies through an internal mechanism to attract specific schools of fish and improve capture efficiency."

As Salmara presented her clear and logical explanation, the scattered fragments of observation in Garian's mind were suddenly connected by a clear thread.

He got it.

Why is this port so empty, without mountains of fish, no fishing boats, and without the mess of North Lorthern Port? Yet the aroma of grilled fish in the air is so rich and persistent, as if it has an inexhaustible source.

So the root of the problem lies here.

This is not the primitive fishing industry that relies on fishermen to navigate small boats and fight the sea with experience and luck.

This is a meticulously designed and rigorously managed production system. From breeding and trapping to farming, every step seems to be calculated and efficiently executed by these silent, metallic, and magical creations.

The fish were lured by specific light sources, becoming a food source for the Spinosaurus, and grew in a special device, reproducing in a simulated natural environment.

The entire port is like the operational front end of a huge and complex aquatic farm—clean, efficient, and even possessing an inhuman calmness.

This is very Lizardman-like.

He suddenly thought.

Even the necessities of survival, such as food acquisition, are incorporated into a controllable, predictable system that conforms to a certain blueprint or plan. There is no chaotic fishing life, only methodical material production.

A complex mix of emotions welled up in Gary's heart: a vague sense of awe at this technology that was beyond his comprehension, and a slight unease about this way of life that systematized everything and removed the uncontrollable human element.

He looked at the deep-sea simulation tanks and underwater ecological network again, his gaze now different. They were no longer strange, static objects, but rather a highly efficient organ within the complex life support system of this mountain city. And the enticing aroma of grilled fish in the air now seemed to carry a hint of… a planned scent?
He then turned his gaze to the right side of the dock.

He was stunned at first glance, and then subconsciously looked up at the steep, magnificent, and exotically geometric lizardman mountain city in the distance.

Then, he turned his gaze back to the right side of the dock.

The art style... is something wrong?
He couldn't find a more fitting word to describe this intense sense of separation.

To the right is a well-planned camp area.

He knew this camp all too well; it was the quintessential, even textbook, elven style. Low but sturdy stone walls outlined its shape, inside stood rows of neatly arranged longhouses with pointed roofs covered in finely fired dark blue tiles, their eaves gracefully curled. Clean gravel paths crisscrossed the area, and one could even glimpse a small, meticulously manicured courtyard planted with salt-tolerant shrubs. The architecture was simple yet beautiful, emphasizing a combination of practicality and defense, mirroring the style of elven overseas colonies.

The problem is that this exquisite camp, with its elven, cold aesthetic, is now inexplicably embedded at the foot of Zetland, a rugged, primitive, and inhumanly ordered lizardman mountain city.

It was like a perfectly polished elven tile mistakenly affixed to the rough rock of a behemoth; there was no transition or fusion between the two, they simply stood side by side abruptly. At the end of the road, a gravel path led to the elven camp; not far from the menacing lizardman relief walls stood an elven-style watchtower.

Visually, it is full of irreconcilable contradictions.

Even more strangely, the elven camp was completely silent, with no trace of elven activity in sight. There were no patrolling soldiers, no cooking smoke. Only at the outposts on the edge of the camp and on the watchtowers in a few key locations could he see still, armored figures.

That must be... a lizardman?

Galian squinted, trying to make out the figures. They were quite far away, but the outlines and postures of those figures, especially their frozen, sculpted guarding stances, were indeed closer to lizardmen than elves.

But lizardmen living in elven-style permanent barracks? That was even more unsettling to him than the barracks being empty.

He stared at the camp, and the more he looked, the more something seemed off.

The weathering of the stone, the uniform color of the roof tiles, and the solid road surface formed by long-term foot traffic all indicate that it has existed here for a considerable period of time and is a permanent stronghold.

A moment later, as if to verify a certain conjecture, he suddenly turned his gaze to the layout and facilities of the entire port.

This time, previously overlooked details began to emerge. The structure of the dock's piers, the cast iron design of the mooring bollards, the way the cargo yards were divided... the more you looked, the clearer the strong sense of déjà vu became.

This port... its planning logic, functional zoning, and even the form of many facilities are so similar to the efficient yet cold North Port of Lorthern that I remember being transformed by Duluqi! If I had to point out a difference, it would be the lack of special barges and the necessary lifting equipment.

But the inherent practicality, modularity, and cold, hard engineering feel are consistent throughout.

Before an absurd yet gradually clear idea could even form in Galian's mind, it was forcibly stopped by the command.

Raine communicated with the Lizard Priest who managed the city without any obstacles. If there was any obstacle, it was that the Lizard Priest was somewhat confused as to why Raine and his fleet would be here at this time.

Raine's solution was very lizard-like...

He simply said, "This is Umak's decree."

And then... that was it.

All the surging questions in the lizard priest's mind seemed to crash into an absolute wall called a higher command. A series of subtle, unintelligible clicking sounds came from his throat, and his four fingers unconsciously made a complex gesture of acceptance and understanding. Although the confusion in his eyes had not completely dissipated, it had been replaced by a kind of procedural obedience.

The endorsement of the highest will is the ultimate logic that needs no explanation and no questioning.

This is the Lizard Man!

The sea guards lined up on the dock began to move, heading towards the camp.

Galian's judgment was correct; this barracks and port were indeed the work of Duruchi, and had been established there for quite some time. Their initial purpose was simple: to provide a reliable unloading point and rest area for fleets arriving from the continent of Lustria. What followed was a slow but steady expansion: the docks extended into a port, the rest areas evolved into fully-equipped military camps, and eventually a fleet was stationed there year-round.

As for why there's a fleet...

Raine's gaze swept over Delamaril and Imralion, who were walking alongside him, their curiosity evident as they looked around. Then it swept over the Sea Guards in the procession, who were also intrigued by the blend of ruggedness and sophistication in their surroundings.

Just before the grand operation to take place in King's Landing of Ulthuan was about to begin, the entire fleet stationed there was redeployed. The emptied camp was then handed over to the lizardmen for temporary management and maintenance.

The lizard priests here are well aware of a timeline: for at least five years after this fleet is transferred, no regular elven ships will appear here for resupply or unloading.

The elves' supply fleet was large in scale, uniform in design, and the appearance of their ships was completely different from the fleet that had come this time—this was a consensus reached by the lizard priests based on long-term observation.

Although their behavior is sometimes abstract, they are not stupid. On the contrary, they have excellent memory and accurate counting ability.

This is precisely why the lizard priest who initially guided the fleet into port hesitated and circled the ship for so long on his pterodactyl. If it weren't for the banner fluttering in the wind atop the mainmast, a symbol of the will of Umak…

This was also the root of the immense confusion that initially plagued the Lizard Priests who managed Zetland: the timing was wrong, the ship types were wrong, and this unexpected fleet was itself an abnormal variable that needed to be explained.

Just then, the lizard priest who had guided the fleet into port suddenly turned around and quickly made a clear, slightly excited gesture to Renn. Renn understood and turned to the two Asul naval commanders beside him and the accompanying Stormweaver.

"Let's go check that out! He said he recently caught a really big fish worth seeing!"

Delamaril, Imralion, and the Stormweaver exchanged a glance, asking no further questions, but following Renn and the lizard priest with a touch of intrigue. (End of Chapter)