Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Galian carefully combed his hair in front of the mirror. As he combed, his attention shifted completely from his reflection to the comb in his hand that was running through his hair.

This is a silver hair comb with a simple and antique design. Its only original decoration was a ruby, of decent color but average clarity, set in the back of the comb. This comb had been with him for many years; he had bought it while still serving in the military. It wasn't particularly valuable, but it was one of his cherished personal items.

But that was a long time ago.

The hair comb in his hand had already undergone an iteration in Zetland. The silver comb body was still the old one, retaining that familiar weight and feel, as well as that 'old friend' ruby.

However, thanks to the exquisite and exotic skills of the lizard craftsmen, its appearance has been completely transformed.

Beside the original, somewhat lonely ruby, a new ruby ​​of significantly higher quality was now closely set. The new gemstone had a deeper, richer color, and its facets refracted a purer fire under the dim light. The two rubies stood side by side, like a pair of silent, burning twin embers.

At the center of the two rubies, two warm, white jade stones, resembling solidified moonlight or the finest mutton fat, are delicately set in. Their fine texture and soft luster perfectly temper the intensity of the rubies, adding a touch of understated elegance.

At the other end, two crystal-clear jade stones, seemingly imbued with the vitality of the rainforest, are set in. Their green is vibrant and lustrous, as clear as water, without the slightest impurity, and under the light, a green halo seems to flow slowly within them.

It's not the tacky red and green combination, but a clever arrangement and material balance of red, white and green.

Red is fiery, white is warm, and green is vibrant. Three colors and three materials coexist harmoniously on a silver base, preserving the elves' preference for gemstones while subtly revealing the lizardmen's style of combining natural materials with geometric aesthetics.

Galian stopped combing his hair, held the comb up to his eyes, and examined it closely with great affection. He gently ran his thumb along the smooth surface of each gemstone, feeling the coolness of the ruby, the warmth of the jade, and the soothing touch of the emerald. His fingertips grazed the silver comb teeth, feeling their neat yet firm texture.

The more he looked at it, the more he liked it.

This is not just an ornament, but also a testament.

He witnessed his journey across the vast ocean to the unfamiliar Zetland, and his strange yet pragmatic exchanges with the lizardmen. With that jar of chili sauce and his sincere gratitude, he earned the lizardman craftsman's readily agreed upgrade service.

This old comb, bearing witness to his past, is now inlaid with treasures from the land of his new ally, as if connecting and merging two journeys in his life in the most direct and beautiful way.

It is not expensive, but it is unique. It reminds him of his past as the ruler of Asurhaiwei, and also metaphorically represents the subtle and beautiful collisions and gifts that may occur between different civilizations in this new era, transcending swords and spears.

A faint smile unconsciously crept onto Galian's lips, a rare moment of pure satisfaction after experiencing life and death, exhaustion, and shock. He carefully tucked the comb back into his inner pocket and patted it down.

He looked at himself in the mirror; his hair was neatly combed. He straightened his collar one last time, smoothed out any non-existent wrinkles, turned, and walked into the armory to routinely check and put on his weapons and armor.

When everything was ready, he went up to the deck.

The wind suddenly rushed onto his face. This was not the usual sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, that one experiences while sailing at sea.

This wind was extremely abnormal—fierce, pure, and filled with some indescribable, primal power, as if it came from the oldest corner of the world. It wasn't like blowing; it was more like surging, howling, and pushing everything forward with a constant, undeniable force.

Galian squinted as the strong wind blew, but instead of being surprised, he gave a knowing yet helpless bitter smile.

He knew why the wind was abnormal.

Everything was related to that distinguished guest on the ship.

Since that guest boarded the dragon ship "Aetheron", the entire fleet, from the flagship dragon ship to the five escort falcon ships, has undergone earth-shattering and illogical changes.

The most obvious change is that the bumps have disappeared.

It wasn't the kind of calm that comes with a tranquil sea, but rather a transcendent, absolute calm that seemed detached from the very rhythm of the ocean. Galian, as an old seaman, was all too familiar with the rhythm of ships rising and falling with the waves.

But now, that feeling is gone.

Because the bottoms of the dragon boats and falcon boats are no longer completely submerged in the seawater!
In an incredible way, they detached themselves slightly from the sea surface, hovering several feet above the water, with only the very bottom edge of the hull occasionally lightly touching the crest of a wave. This allowed the ships to completely escape the direct impact and rocking of the waves, achieving a sailing posture as stable as gliding on ice.

And this is just the beginning.

The speed of the entire fleet underwent an astonishing and breathtaking change.

Without raising a single sail, the fleet was silently and steadily speeding forward at speeds far exceeding its maximum when sailed full and with the wind at its back. There was no roar of the Duruch steam engine, only the low whistling of the bows cutting through the air and the sea below, and the omnipresent Agil winds, driven by the vast energy of Slan, propelling the fleet forward.

The wind surrounds each ship, forming an invisible force field that provides propulsion and maintains the ships' eerie levitation.

The sea receded rapidly beside the ship, leaving a long white contrail, and the clouds in the sky seemed to move even faster. What used to take days or even longer to cross now appeared to take only a tenth or even less of that time.

In addition, Galian and the Sea Guards noticed some more subtle changes: the wooden structure of the ship seemed to be covered with a very faint, almost invisible glow, making it appear exceptionally sturdy; the humidity in the air was regulated by some force to be more pleasant; and even at the change of day and night, the light inside the cabins became more stable and softer.

All of this stemmed from the vast, subtly guided energy emanating from that guest. He did not do it intentionally; his very existence, and the phenomena that naturally arose from his simple desire to return as quickly as possible, were enough to crush ordinary navigation techniques.

This is the convenience that comes with traveling with ancient powers, or rather... a surreal daily life.

After the Sea Guards no longer needed to intervene in navigation, their daily routine changed. They trained in the morning to maintain their condition, and in the afternoon... they engaged in fierce battles with the Lizardmen.

With the Sea Guards no longer needing to intervene in the ship's navigation—after all, piloting a hovercraft under the invisible power of the Slan Priests was beyond the scope of any elven navigation—their daily routine underwent a peculiar change. The mornings remained dedicated to unwavering armed training and tactical drills to maintain peak combat readiness and discipline.

The afternoon... became a series of intense cross-cultural exchanges between the Sea Guards and the accompanying lizardmen. This confrontation was not a sword-fighting drill, but rather a sport called Blood Bowl Rugby.

The rules were simplified and mixed, and a simple end zone was drawn on the middle deck of the dragon boat, which was exceptionally stable due to its suspension and had a relatively open space.

Thus, every afternoon, weather permitting, a passionate clash unfolds here between the elves' agility and tactical coordination and the lizardmen's swiftness, unpredictable flexibility, and unreasonable, brute force.

The competition was full of hilarious and exciting moments.

The Sea Guard attempts to tear apart the defense with exquisite passes, only to be intercepted mid-flight by a Spirit Lizard with incredible jumping height and precise four-finger strikes; the relatively slender Elven running back finally manages to break through the encirclement, only to be knocked away like a fallen log by a silent Lizardman warrior joining the fray; the Spirit Lizards' rapid-fire communication and dazzling short passes often leave the Elven defensive formation, accustomed to orderly command, overwhelmed.

The most amazing scene, and the one that the onlookers at the coast guard talked about the most, was the "football flying off the deck" incident.

Several times, in the heat of the moment or during an overly forceful long pass, the leather ball whistled over the ship's side, seemingly about to plunge into the rapidly passing blue sea below, becoming an expensive sacrifice for Matherland. But just as everyone gasped in regret, the flying rugby ball would suddenly freeze in mid-air outside the ship's side, as if it had hit an invisible wall, hovering eerily a few feet above the sea, even continuing to spin.

Then, something even more astonishing happened: instead of falling, the ball began to move in the opposite direction of its trajectory, like a film playing in reverse, steadily and slowly retracing its path, passing over the ship's side, and finally gently landing back on the deck at the feet of the player who had just let go of it or knocked it away, even playfully bouncing twice.

The entire process was silent, without any magical light or incantations.

But all the elves knew that this was the power emanating from that distinguished guest, a series of subtle yet precise "interventions" into this "game." He was like a silent, omniscient, and omnipotent referee, announcing in the most surreal way: "On my ship, there is no 'out of bounds,' the game continues!"

This didn't dampen anyone's enthusiasm; instead, it added a sense of security and unique fun to the game. Players became bolder in attempting difficult moves and their passes became more imaginative, thanks to the "Slan Automatic Return Device." The spirit lizards even saw this "rewinding" as the Slan Priest's approval of the game, playing with even more immersion, their hissing becoming particularly excited.

But today is different.

The morning's routine training was gone, and the "international friendly match" full of collisions and laughter was also gone.

On the lizardmen's side, the leading spirit lizards did not jump around excitedly to warm up as usual. Instead, they gathered together, communicating with rapid and serious hissing, their eyes occasionally glancing towards the bridge.

The omnipresent magical wind that propelled the fleet forward seemed to carry an unusual, indescribable tension.
Soon, Galian and the other Sea Guards completed their formation and received crucial information: the fleet was about to reach its final destination.

Next, they received a rather vague mission instruction: to adjust according to the situation that followed.

This is tantamount to requiring them to maintain the highest level of vigilance and flexibility without any specific orders.

The sea guards then went into a state of readiness. That is, they stayed on the deck, sitting on small stools, with their weapons within easy reach, and their eyes fixed on the gradually clearing horizon.

A calm, poised to erupt, permeated the air.

"Island group".

Ryan put down his monoculars, his voice carrying clearly to his companion beside him. In the distance, the outlines of a cluster of islands of varying sizes, covered in green vegetation, were already faintly visible, like emeralds scattered on azure silk.

“We’ve arrived.” Delamar took a deep breath of the salty air, his tone complex, as if confirming a distant and unwanted nightmare. “I never imagined that one day I would set foot here again.”

His gaze swept over the islands, his eyes swirling with old memories, clearly not pleasant ones.

Raine simply smiled understandingly without replying. He had heard Delamar briefly mention that the experience was even worse than his initial encounter during his second visit to the continent of Ruscia.

Just then, the fleet began to change course. Instead of heading directly towards the islands, they drew an elegant arc, skillfully bypassing the seemingly calm islands and avoiding the Spinosaurus with its massive dorsal fins patrolling around them.

These sea monsters are the natural guardians of this place, but clearly, Slan's power allows the fleet to avoid dealing with them.

After adjusting their course, the fleet continued straight ahead at an astonishing speed.

Half an hour later, when the outline of a much larger, more lush land appeared on the starboard side of the fleet, Eldrahil, who was standing near the bridge with Raine and the others, suddenly froze, then turned his head to look at the tower that had once belonged to him.

"What's wrong?" Imralion, standing beside him, keenly noticed his companion's unusual behavior and asked, somewhat puzzled. The appearance of land was exciting, but Eldrasil's reaction was clearly beyond the norm.

"No, it's nothing." Eldrasil took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and shook his head, but the knuckles of his fingers gripping the staff were a little white.

He was unable to fully explain it to Imralion.

Just as the land came into view, he clearly felt that he, and even the entire fleet, were enveloped and watched by a vast, ancient, and indescribable presence.

He knew that the guests were releasing a pure, overwhelming presence and observation. But what shocked and even horrified him was that this observation began to spread outwards, towards the surrounding sea, gradually expanding and stirring in concentric circles!
This is something a spellcaster of his caliber couldn't do.

Half an hour later, the boat began to slow down noticeably, but it still maintained an elegant posture, hovering a few feet above the sea surface, without completely falling back into the water.

On the distant land, the scenery gradually became clear.

The shore is not a man-made wooden or stone pier, but a magnificent and primitive natural pier formed by countless huge, flat, shimmering slabs of pebbles naturally stacked and extending into the sea.

The smooth stone slabs refracted the sunlight with an obsidian or dark jade-like luster, their edges so neat as if cut by a master craftsman, yet possessing an air of natural perfection. Waves gently lapped against these slabs, splashing up fine white foam, further emphasizing the ancient and mysterious nature of this landing site.

“The style of the ancient saints.” Raine took a deep breath.

That wasn't just an exclamation; it was more like a confirmation.

Having a deep understanding of the lizardmen, he knew very well that there were two distinct yet co-existing styles within lizardman society. One was the lizardman style: a heavy, practical temple city full of geometric order; the other was an extremely rare ancient style, almost existing only in legends, usually hidden in the most secretive and undisturbed places.

This was the first time he had ever seen such an obvious and undisguised ancient style, directly displayed on the coast.

The fleet began to adjust its formation, the distance between the ships widening again under the guest's control, as if following some silent command, slowly approaching the natural stone pier that shimmered in the sunlight. The sea guards on deck stood up one by one, neatly and restrainedly putting away their small stools, their hands returning to their weapon grips.

The metal and leather made a subtle sound between my fingers.

Galian felt his palms getting slightly sweaty.

That wasn't fear, but a more indescribable emotion?
A strong premonition that I was about to step into the unknown and become a witness to a legend was slowly swelling in my chest.

The fleet remained elegantly suspended a few feet above the sea, the ships gliding silently. Only when the ships were truly docked at the pier, as if completing some predetermined procedure, did they slowly sink back into the sea.

At that very moment, Chakas let out a sharp and high-pitched roar.

The sound pierced the air, like a key that unlocked a ceremony.

Immediately afterwards, the temple guards, who had been standing like statues on the deck, moved! (End of Chapter)