Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

It's moving, but the process has been somewhat bumpy.

From Darkus's perspective, the scene looked as if an invisible hand had torn a hole in the middle.

Some soldiers charged straight out of the fortress, their movements filled with an impatient eagerness, as if they had been waiting for this moment for far too long, like a spring released from its long-compressed state, propelling them violently into the position saturated with artillery fire. Their boots trod on the charred, still-smoking earth, each step kicking up a cloud of ash and debris.

Then, clear the way.

Shovels, picks, entrenching tools, steel chisels—all sorts of tools began to be used on this land that had been repeatedly ravaged.

The soldiers were bent over, like a group of farmers working in the fields, but their goal was not to sow seeds, but to clear a path.

Use shovels to dig away the collapsed soil, use pickaxes to smash the rocks that had collapsed after being cracked by the shells, and use steel bars to pry open the wooden planks and metal fragments stuck in the passageway and pushed together by the shock wave.

The trenches were reopened, and the passages that had been filled in, bombed, or blocked by rubble and debris reappeared on the ground one after another.

The scene was quite lively, with some wielding picks, others carrying soil, and officers directing the soldiers who were digging, telling them which direction to dig, how deep to dig, and how wide to dig.

Some of the entrances and exits that should have been teeming with soldiers were completely deserted. Clearly, those entrances and exits had been destroyed in the previous shelling, with large amounts of mud and rubble piled up at the entrances, as if a small mountain had blocked their throats.

These entrances and exits need to be explored.

Unseen by Dakos, the blocked soldiers gathered at the collapsed entrances and exits, using their tools to clear away the debris bit by bit, leveling the hill and exposing the buried passages back to the air.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the riverbank...

"Four points!" Dakos, positioned on the hillside, declared decisively.

"What about the remaining point?" Aris paused for a moment before asking.

He knew what Darkus was saying. After all, he had spent some time in Nagalos and tutored Kerameon and Drakil in their homework. He knew that the scoring system in the Duruci society was a five-point system—five points being the highest and one point the lowest.

“I’m worried he’ll get arrogant,” Darkus said casually.

His words, his demeanor, and the scene unfolding on the other side of the riverbank successfully made Aris laugh in exasperation.

As for what it showed...

Marekis was not among the officers.

The officers, dressed in dark uniforms and standing at the front of the riverbank, were waiting for someone who should have appeared but had not yet.

Malekith was not standing there.

He was displaying supernatural powers, that is, magic.

His enormous phantom was in the sky, just as it had first appeared on the giant screen. The phantom was not a physical entity, but a projection of light and shadow, composed of light, shadow, and something in between, as if a person had been magnified hundreds of times and then detached from the real world, leaving him suspended in the sky.

His upper body appeared in a form of light and shadow; the folds of his robes, the lines of his shoulder armor, the contours of his face—every detail was magnified, so clear that even the lines at the corners of his eyes could be seen. Then, he stretched out his right hand, pointing to the opposite bank of the river. The movement was slow, but heavy, as if he were pressing the entire river under that finger.

Then, the Yangyan Sword appeared in his hand. The sword's physical form did not appear, but its light and shadow did. The flame-like outline extended in his hand, like a burning, solidified light.

The soldiers who witnessed this cheered and raised their arms, as if Malekith had lit thousands of fuses at the same moment, and everyone had exploded in that instant. The sound traveled from one end of the position to the other, bounced from one end to the other, and even formed an arc-shaped, spreading wave of sound on the river.

Hmm, what a sight to behold, sword pointing forward.

Without a doubt, this is a signal—a signal to launch an attack.

The direction the sword pointed was where they were going.

So Nucker gave the order.

"First wave, launch the attack!"

After he finished speaking, he added another sentence.

"Run faster!"

Upon hearing the distant horn, Fenaffin turned around, his expression solemn as he looked behind him at the fifty-odd Trident Bearers standing ready for battle. They stood there, clad in sleeveless Ysera's silver armor, their gazes fixed straight ahead, their expressions resolute and serene, like fifty statues frozen in time.

He took a deep breath, a breath so deep it seemed he wanted to inhale the entire sky into his lungs, and then exhale it through his next action. He pointed to the hillside, but he didn't give any speech. They had fought side by side for too long; the words "For Matheran" had been uttered countless times on the training grounds; the words "For Glory" had been discussed countless times at the dinner table in Twilight Keep; and the words "Who are we?" had been spoken through their actions in every shipwreck and every rescue.

A moment before, after he turned his head, the bearers had already responded to him with firm expressions. Their gazes met his, and then they looked away, as if they had completed some kind of confirmation that did not require words.

He then took the lead, dragging his waterproof bag into the turbulent Yebai River.

The waterproof bag was dark-colored and was tied to a long rope, the other end of which was wrapped around his waist. Inside were the equipment he would need to use next.

The moment his foot stepped into the river, water splashed from his ankle, and his body leaned slightly forward, as if negotiating with the water, testing its strength and direction.

“Praise be to Matherland!” shouted Fernaffin’s lieutenant, and then followed Fernaffin toward the Night White River.

Next, we have the bearers.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized; one person had already stepped into the river before the next took their first step. The intervals were even, the rhythm steady, like a chain being woven, each link interlocking with the next.

Through the efforts of Dulias and Aislin, the Navy obtained one thousand slots. This was the result of the two explaining their reasons, exchanging conditions, and finally reaching a consensus in front of Newkel. Asul, on the other hand, was allocated three hundred and fifty slots out of the one thousand slots.

Unlike some worlds, unlike some short-lived species that don't have enough time to perfect something and can only add things up within a limited time.

Aside from a few chosen by fate, elves, as a long-lived species, typically become more powerful with age. This is because they have ample time to hone their skills, practicing the same movements until they become instinctive and require no thought.

As a result, the vast majority of these spots were taken by admirals, sea helmets, and storm weavers. These veterans, who have been immersed in this field for hundreds of years, know when the current is fast and when it is slow, how to maintain balance in turbulent waters, and how to do things to make holding one's breath longer.

According to the tabletop role-playing game, after the nobles and citizens of Asur enter the Sea Guard, they will be unified as "Sea Watchers", then promoted to "Sea Guardians", and then above them are "Sea Masters", who are the Lords of the Ocean, and "Sea Guardian Commanders" who command the fleet, who are also known as "Sea Helmets".

Above that is the 'Admiral', and above that is the 'Ocean Lord' who leads the Asur Navy.

As the saying goes, the older one gets, the more cunning and powerful one becomes, and the more experience one accumulates with age.

To ensure a safe outcome, Aislin deployed the most elite forces of the Asul Navy—veterans who had distinguished themselves in the old era and maintained their fighting prowess in the new.

The remaining vacancy was filled by the Trident Bearers, led by Fenaffin.

Similarly, the Elven Duruch Navy adopted a similar configuration—the admiral led the way, followed by the fleet commander, captains, high-ranking officers, and mid-ranking members of the Stormweavers Order.

There was nothing for the ordinary soldiers; everyone's position had already been determined, and every role had been assigned.

As the distant horn sounded, the entire riverbank came alive, with everything happening in sync.

Lexikir gave the heavy waterproof bag a final check. She moved slowly and carefully, first checking if the straps were secure, then if the waterproof fabric was intact, and finally running her fingers along the seams to make sure there were no tears.

Then she squatted by the river and splashed the river water on her chest and the large joints of her limbs. The movements were very practiced, as if she were doing something she had done countless times.

Adapt to the water temperature in advance to prevent sudden spasms or cramps after entering the water.

Although it seems that there is no need to get used to the water temperature here?
Because the weather was great, with the sun high in the sky and direct sunlight, the river wasn't as cold as she had expected; the water even had a hint of warmth from the sun.

But she did it anyway, out of some kind of inertia.

Who told her to be born in Karl Calond?

As is well known, Karl Karond is a harsh environment year-round, with biting winds blowing from the sea that feel like they're going to pull your bones out of your flesh.

As a member of a powerful and influential family, she had to undergo rigorous training that was almost fatal, including swimming in the dead of winter, diving under ice, and staying conscious in sub-zero temperatures.

If she hadn't taken any preparatory steps, perhaps she would have already returned to Matheran's embrace.

After nodding in satisfaction, she declined her nephew's attempt to show respect for his elders. Roxia wanted to help, her hand already outstretched, but she gently slapped it away—a light but firm gesture.

Then, she pulled the waterproof bag into the river, each step steady, first her ankles, then her calves, then her knees. Until the water reached her waist, the waterproof bag floated on the surface, like a tamed buoy following its course.

But she didn't dive in headfirst; that would be too reckless, not in her style. Instead, she executed a perfect sidestroke, lying on her side, using her arms to drag the waterproof bag while pulling the water, and her legs to perform a scissor-like squeezing motion.

That posture was one she had practiced countless times in the waters of Karl Calond; it was the most energy-efficient posture that allowed her to maintain her observation direction.

She just said that her body is getting old and her mind can't keep up anymore...

But that was just her politeness; normally, she wielded that double-headed halberd with great skill and flair.

That kind of aging is more of a psychological one—a kind of aging where you want to stop but can't, where you have to keep chasing and not fall behind. It's the kind of aging that comes from running a long race for a long time, getting used to the rhythm, but occasionally feeling tired.

After Roxia glanced at her and confirmed that his aunt was alright, he quietly followed.

There was no boasting, no mockery. He simply followed behind, maintaining a suitable distance so that his aunt didn't feel chased or abandoned.

Although the Yebai River isn't very wide, only about a hundred meters in sight from one end to the other, it's currently the high-water season, and the current is very swift. The water carries an unyielding force, surging from upstream like an invisible giant python running, trying to engulf everyone who enters its body and draw them into its rhythm.

If you recklessly attempt to cross the river without observing the current, choosing the right angle, or adjusting your breathing, you will still capsize.

A mishap here would undoubtedly become a black mark on one's record, something to be talked about for a lifetime, and could even affect future promotions. So no one dared to be reckless, no one tried to show off how graceful their swimming style was in the middle of the river. They simply swam, steadily and continuously, like a school of migrating, silent fish.

In a short time, nearly half of the prominent figures active in the navy and aristocratic circles appeared in the waters of the Night White River.

“Ah, cunning Asur,” Darkus quipped as he watched the scene unfold.

There was admiration and a hint of teasing in his tone.

Although Asur only received 350 slots, it's clear that Asur and his allies pulled another trick.

Because the Yebai River is too turbulent, topographical and hydrological reconnaissance is necessary before embarking on the crossing.

Therefore, the crossing was only carried out in one section, not the entire section. They chose a section with relatively gentle current, a relatively firm riverbed, and relatively open terrain on the opposite bank, and then concentrated all their efforts in that section.

The Asur people placed the carriers in their designated areas, in locations closest to the other side of the river—precisely calculated positions with the shortest distance and the gentlest current.

The Duruchis, on the other hand, entered the water in order of rank: the admiral first, the fleet commanders next, and the high-ranking officers and mid-ranking members last. This meant that the mid-ranking members of the Stormweavers Order, who specialized in underwater warfare, were unable to exert their full strength; they were waiting, while the Bearers were already in the water.

That one step is insignificant on land, but in water, in turbulent currents, and when you have to maintain your breathing rhythm at all times, that one step becomes a gap that requires time and effort to close.

Aris did not respond to Darkus's teasing; his expression was serious, and he stared intently.

Watching those figures moving slowly and steadily in the Night White River, watching those waterproof bags that were sometimes visible and sometimes hidden by the river water, watching those navy members who could use magic but chose to grit their teeth and swim.

His gaze was focused, as if he were watching a performance where he didn't want to miss a single detail.

Meanwhile, the so-called traditionalist Asur nobles on the hillside wore varied and complex expressions. In their eyes, those Asur naval members diligently swimming in the Night White River were undoubtedly 'traitors'!
On the other hand, if they were invited and had the opportunity to go swimming, they would choose to go, even if the swim wasn't very good.

Yeah, the main theme is twisted.

He thought to himself, "They are traitors," but saw, "They swim so fast." He said, "I don't care to get involved," but in his mind, he thought, "If it were me, could I swim better than them?"

“I want to go too…” Alicia exclaimed longingly.

Elardeschi, standing to the side, glanced at his daughter with doting eyes, then shook his head and smiled.

“Strictly speaking, you’re not a naval member, just like me.” Marlene said, placing her hand gently on Alicia’s shoulder, as if soothing a lamb trying to jump out of its enclosure. Then she added, “Besides, this was a last-minute arrangement, not part of the plan, otherwise, I would be in the Night White River right now.”

The entire swimming process was like a silent, unannounced, yet high-stakes competition.

Admiral Duruch and the fleet captains, who were swimming ahead, noticed that the carriers were swimming faster than them. The difference wasn't huge, but it was visibly noticeable that the carriers' paddling movements were more coordinated, their breathing rhythm was more even, and they seemed to be being pushed along in the water. There were also slight pauses between each stroke, as if the water was testing their limits.

So they sped up, increasing the frequency of their arm strokes, increasing the force of their leg squeezes, and changing their breathing rhythm from steady to rapid.

Unfortunately, due to the distance...

As for making way for the mid-level members of the cult behind to fill in... that's not going to happen.

This involves issues of identity, the right to speak, and human nature.

But more important than distance is that this is what the carriers make a living from and what they do for a living.

The most elite force in Twilight Keep is a unit of 120 noble sons of the Asur, known as the "Trident Bearers." They wear sleeveless Yseramar silver armor and fight with 1.5-meter-long tridents. Although this weapon is short as a spear, it is suitable for underwater combat and has a powerful armor-piercing ability.

Although most Asur colonists were aware of the existence of this force, few knew exactly what they were doing.

These trident bearers are responsible for carrying out the most dangerous missions, such as searching shipwrecks in the deep sea, fighting sea monsters, and boarding the Black Ark.

Specialization is key – and this was fully demonstrated at that moment.

Although naval officers can swim, and are quite good at it, it depends on who they are compared to.

In the end, Fenafen was the first to reach the shore.

He braced himself against the edge of the riverbank, pulling himself out of the water. Water droplets slid down his Yseramar silver armor, shimmering in the afternoon sun. He stood there, his breathing steady, his expression calm, offering no boasting or celebration, simply watching the figures still in the water behind him.

He won this silent internal naval competition.

Ultimately, the navy emerged victorious, winning this competition between the army and navy.

It was because the army, which arrived from behind, was only just getting onto the bridge when Fernaff was ashore.

As the saying goes, if you're quick in one step, you'll be quick in every step.

The difference may not seem significant, but in military operations, it means that those who arrive first can deploy their troops, establish defensive lines, and control key points.

Upon witnessing this scene, Darkus first clapped twice, then put his hands behind his back and pondered with a serious expression.

There is no doubt that the naval personnel performed a primitive version of armed swimming.

Armed swimming is not included in naval training programs. Being able to swim is one thing, but being able to swim does not mean being able to swim in an armed manner.

Let professional swimmers go directly to the armed swimming event...

In still water, professional swimmers will definitely perform better than ordinary soldiers, but they lack the key skills required for armed swimming, such as load adjustment, equipment protection, water orientation, and emergency handling. If their equipment is not properly secured or their center of gravity is not well controlled, they are very likely to capsize in the water.

There are many reasons why the navy does not conduct armed swimming training, such as the allocation of soldiers.

Strictly speaking, naval soldiers mostly played the role of sailors. They were assigned to various warships and were responsible for handling sails, loading ballistae, and maintaining the hull.

They only come together to play the role of the Marine Corps on rare occasions, such as when a landing is necessary.

Underwater combat and operations are undertaken by mid-level members of the cult.

In other words, the Duruch Navy does not have a dedicated Marine Corps force. And when acting as the Marine Corps, armed swimming is not typically conducted, which is related to the terrain of Ausuan and the navy's equipment.

The statement that "due to water depth, reefs, mudflats, and anti-landing obstacles, it is impossible to directly approach the shore, and landing forces must be released from a certain distance" is untenable within the navy.

Osuan may not have much else, but it has an abundance of suitable landing sites for large-scale operations, with flat coastlines, sandy beaches, and gently sloping rocky shores everywhere.

There's no need to choose special terrain. If a special terrain landing is absolutely necessary, Duruchi has special barges, and also magic. Moreover, in melee combat, the focus is on military formations and armor, requiring a sufficiently large flat area to deploy the formations.

The special terrain makes it impossible to form a military formation in a short time. If the enemy is prepared, they can even drive the landing navy back into the sea during the preparation process.

Strategically, a landing would inevitably involve deploying a large number of troops or supplies, and there's no need to land on special terrain. Even if there's no other option but to grit their teeth and land, as I said before: Duruchi has special barges, and magic as well.

Therefore, armed swimming is not included in the Navy's current training system.

But Dakous wasn't considering just one aspect—whether or not to add armed swimming training—but rather a broader issue: whether to establish a dedicated marine corps in the upcoming naval reforms.

Where do the soldiers come from?
Was it an internal selection or a transfer from the army?

How many people are needed?

Three corps? One army group?

When will the team be formed?
Should we wait until things stabilize in King's Landing, or now?

Every era has its own needs. After conquering King's Landing in Ulthuan, it was time to consider the interests of the various overseas colonies. Those scattered across Lustria, Elsin Alwyn, and those even more distant, unnamed islands all needed someone to guard them, patrol them, and display the Elven flag.

The transformation of the navy is of paramount importance.

"Damn it!" Lechkiel, who landed a moment later than Finafin, cursed under his breath.

The voice wasn't loud, but the emotions in the words were complex: resentment, surprise, and a hint of disbelief that I, as the one who specifically devised the battle plan, hadn't even considered it.

She stood there, water droplets sliding off her waterproof bag and pooling at her feet.

Then she turned her head and looked up at the bridge. The army soldiers in black uniforms were already lined up in columns and were quickly crossing the bridge. Their boots made a dense sound on the steel plates, like an approaching rain.

Clearly, now is not the time to complain; the army has already moved onto the bridge.

Then, she glanced at the river again to make sure there were no problems, before quickly opening her waterproof bag and beginning to equip herself. (End of Chapter)