Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Could Lema disagree?
For some, doctrines are less important than a large number of true believers.

Believers are the foundation, the strength, and the very meaning of existence. Doctrines can be changed, rituals can be altered, and even the clergy can be tweaked—as long as believers remain, as long as incense burns, and as long as there are still people kneeling before the shrine reciting her name.

Although Duruci, Asul, and Aslai had different understandings of Lyma, and although she was Kane's sister, Lyma was ultimately an "unremarkable minor god." Her number of followers was just right—not too many, not too few, neither starving nor thriving. In the genealogy of the elven gods, she belonged to the kind of being that would not be forgotten, but would also never be remembered.

Therefore, in the face of a large influx of new believers, it is not impossible to change the doctrine...

After all, we need to adapt to the new era.

Anyway, this isn't the first time they've changed doctrines. From the dark mirror of Kronos, to the embodiment of vengeance, to the guardian deity of a jealous lover, and now... the guardian deity of the railway? And maybe a guardian deity of the road?

In any case, they are all extensions of the logic of "fighting against the strong." Railways fight against distance, and roads fight against the wilderness. There is no difference.

If I had to say, the wilderness represents Kunos...

"Besides railways? There are roads too?" Malekith looked at Dakos with a hint of helplessness in his eyes, as if to say, "What other surprises do you have that I don't know about?"

"Yes!"

Malekith nodded in response to Darkus's affirmative answer. He didn't press for details, as he had already roughly guessed the framework. Railways were the lifeline for long distances, while roads were the arteries for short distances; neither could be dispensed with. Since Lema's followers had been placed in the Railway Institute, the road system naturally couldn't be left out either.

Vehicles and trains are all behemoths...

He then confirmed it.

"I remember that time, she showed up too?"

"Yes!"

Dakota's answer was brief and firm.

Malekith gave a helpless smile.

Thankfully, Elven culture lacks the concept of "returning a favor," otherwise Malekith would have insisted on saying, "If you treat me with respect, I will treat you with even greater respect."

that time.

This refers to the time when Darkus led a group of people deep into the Chaos Demon Realm in an attempt to close the portal, nearly dying there. A group of elven gods belonging to the Kadai and Cesarai pantheons rushed to the rescue, trying to pull Darkus out.

It was a true descent of the gods, a spectacle never seen in thousands of years. Unfortunately, for many reasons, this event only spread within a small circle.

Perhaps only Darkus has this kind of prestige.

he?
Even his father, Aenarion, might not have had this kind of prestige.

envy?

It would be a lie to say there isn't.

Those were the gods, beings high above, looking down upon all living beings. They had never even shown such favor to him, yet they had turned out in droves for an outsider.

To say I'm not jealous is to lie to myself.

But that's about it.

His view of the Elf God differed from that of other Elves.

This difference came from his father.

During his childhood, the clergy had repeatedly shown Aenarion a cold and uncooperative attitude. This coldness was not an open confrontation, but a deeper, more suffocating rejection; it did not oppose him, but it did not support him either; it did not curse him, but it did not bless him either.

Although Aenarion never publicly expressed opposition to the construction of any religious buildings, almost any priest who attempted to build a temple within his territory met a bad end. For this reason, priests generally did not stay long in the Kingdom of Nagareth. They either left on their own, were expelled, or disappeared mysteriously.

The two do not have a good relationship...

That atmosphere, that estrangement and indifference between the gods and his father, was something he had been immersed in since childhood. He watched the priests come and go, watched the temple's blueprints be shelved time and time again, and watched the invisible rift between his father and the gods widen.

But then...

Morath broke this pattern after Malekith left Nagareth and Ulthuan for Elsin Alwyn.

In the words of his mother, Morales, "Your aversion to religion is not natural, and if you want to overcome this feeling, you must first acknowledge your fear of religion."

“I have no fear of the clergy,” Malekith said. He was telling the truth—he was indeed not afraid of the priests, their curses, their curses, or any of their methods.

"But you have never gone to the temple to pray, nor have you ever performed any praise ceremonies. Are you afraid of the gods?"

“Those gods have never favored Nagares, and I have no reason to bow down to them,” Malekith retorted. This was his truest feeling, a seed etched into his very bones, planted since childhood.

The gods do not favor Nagarus, so he has no need of them.

Moras was not swayed by his rhetoric. She simply said calmly, "Don't think that there are no gods in your life. Without Asuyan's recognition, your father could not have become the Phoenix King. It was the sword of Kane that helped us defeat the demons. His first wife was the incarnation of Aisha. If your blood is devout, the gods will respond with their own blood."

She paused, then added, "Even if it's not for your soul, religion has its benefits for your power. Controlling religion means controlling the believers, making them believe you have received God's grace, and they will offer their unconditional loyalty."

Although Morales is dead, and although she did many things that have been criticized, her later statement is correct.

Upon arriving in Nagarus, Malekith tried to do the same. He built temples, supported priests, and held public ceremonies of praise. He did everything a ruler should do, everything Moras had advised him to do. He thought he was doing well, that he had mastered the system.

Ironically, however, Darkus was a hundred times stronger than Malekith and Moras in this respect.

Blue comes from...

Its strength lies not in its methods, nor in its strategies, but in...

Dakos is special.

At least that's what Malekith thinks.

The gods were willing to venture into the Chaos Realm for him, they were willing to accept his outrageous arrangements, and they were willing to revise their doctrines for his so-called "new era." The Val priests went from blacksmiths to engineers and administrators, and now Lyma has been stuffed into the Railway Institute, and Aisha and Asati have been formally united. What would be blasphemous for others becomes "adapting to the new era" for Darkus.

Moreover, this is not the only unique aspect of Darkus.

Jealousy can bring...

He was the biggest beneficiary of Darkus's actions, a fact he understood better than anyone. Without Darkus, there would be no Phoenix Throne, no Ulthuan, and none of this.

All he could do was learn from Dakota's cousin, Maranul. Faced with someone more dazzling than himself, someone who made him pale in comparison, he chose to suppress his jealousy, to transform it into appreciation, into support, into "we can only be friends."

Suppress that jealousy.

Turn jealousy into...

He and Dakota could only be friends, good friends, and close partners.

This was his choice, and this was his answer.

"Isn't it too big?"

Having completed his adjustments, Malekith posed a question. His tone was calm, but something was hidden beneath that calm. It wasn't a question, nor an objection, but rather a scrutiny.

He needed to confirm that the emerging system was not out of control.

He understood Darkus's line of thinking.

The union of Aisha and Asati represents the agricultural and civil administration systems. The Mother of All Things and the Goddess of Desire are combined to govern the land, household registration, civil administration, and those who are intimately connected with the land.

Val and Lyma—the god of forging and the goddess of hunting—represent a union of heavy industry, military industry, road transportation, and railways. One oversaw production, the other transportation; one was responsible for making things, the other for delivering them to their proper places.

Is it huge?
huge.

Is it complicated?
complex.

But Marekis wasn't worried about the sheer size or complexity. He was worried about something else entirely: when military industry and heavy industry, roads and railways were intertwined, when production and transportation were controlled by the same system, when that system had its own beliefs, its own interests, and its own expansion needs.

Who will check and balance it?
Dakos looked at Malekith, knowing that Malekith was experiencing a relapse.

He's become paranoid.

This is normal!
This is what a ruler should demonstrate; it would be abnormal if Malekith showed no reaction. "Your concerns are valid and justified," Darkus began, his tone devoid of explanation or reassurance, only a calm statement of fact. "We possess the capability for mass production of military equipment. You've already seen it. Now, from ceramic steel to plastic steel, from hardened resin to high-density batteries, from armor to armored vehicles, materials science has undergone a radical transformation in ten days. These aren't laboratory samples; they are things that can be mass-produced, deployed, and used in actual combat."

He paused, looking into Malekith's eyes.

“Besides defending Ausuan, we also have the need to expand our overseas interests. When the capacity to mass-produce military equipment is combined with various needs, a force will naturally emerge. This force will drive more people to build weapons, more ships to open new routes, and railways to be extended further. This is not something that anyone is planning; it is a natural law.”

Malekith didn't speak; he listened.

“If left unchecked, this force will create a kind of inertia. Those who manufacture weapons want the war to continue because the war requires weapons; those who open up shipping routes want the routes to go further because further means more profit. They will form a community of shared interests, they will use all sorts of reasons to promote expansion, they will package ‘need’ as ‘inevitable’ and ‘want’ as ‘have to,’ thereby engaging in a kind of hijacking.”

Dakos's voice was not loud, but every word was clear.

"That's what you're worried about."

Malekith remained silent, but his silence spoke volumes—Darkus had hit the nail on the head.

"But remember, there is a God in this world!"

Dakos changed the subject, his tone becoming more certain. He looked at Malekith, his gaze calm and earnest.

"You are the incarnation of Asuyan, you are the Phoenix King. This is not a metaphor, not rhetoric, it is the truth. While the followers of Val and Lyma were settling accounts, while their interests were expanding and their influence was growing, Val and Lyma were watching, and Asuyan was watching too!"

"God decides! It's not the priests, not the believers, not those who have profited immensely from the system. It's God. The doctrine is in God's hands, the will is in God's hands, and what is orthodox and what is heretical is in God's hands!"

He paused, lowered his voice slightly, but emphasized each word.

"You're worried about the military-industrial complex getting out of control? But Gods are alive! They can speak, they can express their opinions, they can nod or shake their heads. They are not statues, not symbols painted on the wall, not scriptures that can be interpreted at will by priests. They are real beings with their own will, their own joys and sorrows."

Dakos withdrew his gaze and looked at the distant horizon.

"In a world without gods, rulers would worry about such things because their gods cannot speak. Scriptures are monopolized by priests, doctrines are interpreted by others, and faith becomes a tool of power. But in this world, it's different!"

He turned his head and looked at Malekith again.

"You are the incarnation of Asuyan, you are the Phoenix King. If one day, the military-industrial complex really expands to the point where it needs to be dealt with, you don't need to argue with those people, you just need to... ask: Is this your idea, or theirs?"

Malekith remained silent for a long time.

He recalled Dacules's earlier question, "Could Lyma disagree?" At the time, he had found it amusing, absurd, and disrespectful to the gods. But now, hearing it from a different perspective, the statement suddenly seemed different.

Malekith nodded slowly.

This time, his gaze held no scrutiny, no doubt, only a heavy, complex calm.

Asuyan is the real killer move. If this is the will of the gods, then Asuyan needs to show its power and unleash its strength, just like before...

In fact, compared to the Lema faction, Darkus was not worried at all that the Val followers would get out of control.

Because Val is trustworthy, and that is indeed the case!

As it turned out, Elsin Alfvén's trip was worthwhile.

In Nagalus, there was no such thing as a workers' movement. Not because there were no workers, but because Darkus had already set the rules and framework before a working class even emerged.

That kind of barbaric accumulation that treats people like consumables, that kind of cruel exploitation that involves spending sixteen hours a day in the factory, was blocked from the very beginning.

There is only an eight-hour workday.

Of course, it's called eight hours, but it's actually nine hours. But that extra hour isn't for overtime; it's for cleanup: wiping down the machines, organizing tools, completing performance settlements, and handing over to the next shift.

This hour is about dignity, order, and proof that "you are a human being, not an animal."

In a way, the workers of Nagarus are already standing in the future.

This is not an exaggeration.

While most parts of the world still define labor as "working at sunrise and resting at sunset," Nagalos's factories already have time clocks, performance charts, shift work, and paid leave. Workers have name tags, files, and point accounts. They know what they are building, where that stuff is used, and that their labor is seen, recorded, and respected.

All of this was achieved under the leadership of the Val followers.

At Darkus's behest and with the encouragement of the Val priests, a management model unprecedented in this world was implemented in the factory—two participations and three combinations.

Not a single change was made.

This is related to the emergence of factories and workers. There was no continuation of the old order or the old era. All the rules were new and did not entwine like vines on every branch of production.

The two participations are management participating in labor and workers participating in management.

The factory was well-managed by the Val followers, which was what made Dakous feel that "Dulucci's workers are already standing in the future."

Management must participate in the work. Those who draw blueprints, calculate costs, manage scheduling, and sit in the office signing documents must all set aside time each month to go to the workshop. This isn't just a cursory visit; it's real work. Operating machine tools, moving raw materials, and standing on the assembly line alongside the workers to complete quotas.

It's not for show, nor is it to let those who use their brains know what physical labor is like.

It's important to understand that the high priests of Val were the main force in the work, while the newly recruited apprentices were just doing the work. There was no such thing as a labor dispatch or informal worker.

The Val priests went to work... and it felt like coming home.

Workers participate in management; each workshop has a representative who sits at the production meeting table and has voting rights. This isn't just for show; their words carry weight. Whether a process improvement is reasonable or not is decided by the worker representatives; whether the shift schedule for a production line is appropriate is decided by the worker representatives; and the performance evaluation of a supervisor is also decided by the worker representatives.

Workers are not the objects of management, but part of the management process. They know where the problems lie, where time is wasted, and which环节 (link/step) is stuck. There's no need to "discover" the problems; just let them speak, and then listen.

The "three-in-one" approach refers to the combination of supervisors, technical personnel, and workers.

Supervisors have a holistic view, knowing where to allocate resources, how to schedule orders, and what to prioritize. Technical staff possess professional knowledge, understanding materials, processes, and the physical laws that workers may not be able to articulate clearly but which certainly exist. Workers have practical experience, knowing whether what's on the blueprints can be produced in their hands, and whether theoretical processes will cause bottlenecks in the workshop.

Three groups of people sat together around the same table, looking at the same blueprint and discussing the same problem.

Nobody can fool anyone else; we are all followers of the Val, and we are all in the same system.

Supervisors cannot say, "This is a technical issue that I don't understand," technicians cannot say, "This is a management issue and I won't get involved," and workers cannot say, "This is the supervisor's business and I won't worry about it."

Three perspectives, three sets of experiences, and three kinds of judgments collide, and only the result is usable.

This model was forged by the followers of Val through countless days and nights of practice, hammer blow by hammer blow. They knew better than anyone that whether a factory could operate depended not on how much money, equipment, or raw materials it had, but on the people standing beside the machines. Whether their hands were steady, their hearts were focused, and whether they were willing to treat each day, each hammer blow, and each step of the process as their own.

When workers are no longer just cogs in an assembly line, but part of the factory; when supervisors are no longer outsiders giving orders, but partners in the workshop; when technicians are no longer aloof theorists, but problem solvers—then the factory has a soul.

The Val followers are those who infuse the factory with a soul.

In another world...

Darkus wasn't worried about them getting out of control, because the prerequisite for getting out of control is that those who want to be out of control have the will to be. The Val followers' will was never to control anyone, but to get things done well. They pursued purer metals, more precise gears, and more efficient assembly lines.

Their joy comes more from one part fitting perfectly into another, from a machine turning from blueprints into reality, and from the orderly billowing of white smoke from the factory chimneys.

that power?

That's a byproduct, not the goal.

Val is an anchor, a role model.

This is one of the benefits of having a God.

It's not dogma written in scriptures, but a living, breathing God who sweats in the factory. You don't need to guess 'what God's will is,' just watch what He's doing.

As for Lyma...

"I think Kaczor is a bit overqualified to be captain and is somewhat out of touch with the changes of the new era."

Marekis was brought back to reality by those words. He glanced at Dakous but did not reply immediately.

"What do you want him to do?" he asked after a long pause.

Dakos did not answer immediately; he simply gazed into the distance, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

Malekith recognized that curve; it was a sign that Darkus was going through another mental process. (End of Chapter)