Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Recap.

A few years ago, Daxus led a group of people to the Chaos Realm and came to a small garden of Nurgle, which was also a branch. He killed not only the guard dog, but also the dragon, and the owner, the Great Unclean One who was killed by his scarlet sword. Other guests who were not guests also took advantage of this opportunity to enter, seeking revenge if there was a grudge, and looking for trouble if there was no grudge, and making a lot of noise.

In the end, he died there, huh! ? But he thought he could live, and he lived again, completing a true resurrection in Nurgle's domain, which was the ultimate insult. What was even more insulting was that after making a scene, the people he brought with him also escaped unscathed. As many as came in, as many as left out, not a single one was left behind, and not a single one was thrown in.

The nature of this matter is no less than Tzeentch instigating Skarbrand to stab Khorne with an axe in the back. When Tzeentch and Nurgle quarrel, they will inevitably bring up this matter over and over again, repeatedly whip the corpse, and repeatedly laugh at it.

Nurgle is merciful, but with this happening... Even a clay man would have some temper, let alone a Chaos God, who is now looking for trouble.

Moreover, long before this, Daxus had actually made enemies with Nurgle. Who made him do two big things when he went to Lustria for the second time, sending away two plague apostles hiding in the dark? These three times plus the present and the future, hatred will only accumulate more and more, and the confrontation will only escalate more and more. Reconciliation does not exist. The agriculture he promotes is the most suitable place to be transformed into a garden, which is an unparalleled temptation to Nurgle.

Seeing the log rolling, Daxus did not jump, nor did he do a flat turn in place, a difficult dance move that would have received full marks from the judges.

When he was in Athel Loren, he was busy all day, and when he wasn't out, he was practicing martial arts. He could do this kind of difficult action, the dragon armor would not restrict him, but would enhance him, but there was no need... He slowly took out the scepter on his belt and raised it.

Now let me introduce to you the silver scepter in his left hand that has been upgraded by Dais, Salir, Serene, Narhap and Lilith.

The upgraded scepter still looked the same as before, without the decoration of the moon goddess kneeling on her knees holding up the crescent moon. He wanted to have it, but he ruthlessly refused. Just kidding, he was not Tigris, not a follower of Lilith, he knew Lilith's tricks too well. Besides, he was going to use the scepter as a war cane for daily use in the future. When reviewing the troops, what would it matter if there was a carving of the moon goddess on the scepter?

The scepter was wrapped in silver silk and engraved with winding elven runes after the upgrade. The top was still the glittering eagle head, holding a fist-sized colorful gem in its mouth. This gem was not a common gem in the secular world, but the top achievement of the spellcasters.

After studying the Yangyan Sword, Teclis comprehended the secrets inside the Yangyan Sword and thus replicated a Sword of Teclis. He used the sword for more than two hundred years and brought it into the next era along with Lilith's Moon Staff.

The blade of the Sword of Teclis has eight energy stones on it, representing the eight winds. Only a powerful elven wizard like Teclis can unleash the power of this weapon without causing great harm to himself.

The colorful gems on the scepter in Daxus's hand are a collection of the Eight Wind Stones, but unlike the eight energy stones on the Sword of Teclis, the colorful gems provide conduction rather than storage, and are more stable and durable than ordinary energy stones. Otherwise, he would have taken out the scepter and used the gems to blow up the Leviathan.

Therefore, the scepter gave him new characteristics. As long as he picked up the scepter, he would become a mage unit. In other words, he was a warlock, although he was not the warlock who killed Malekith...

In other words... he completed his transformation and job change. He changed from a warrior to a magic swordsman. Now he holds the Silver Scepter in his left hand and Viszaal in his right hand. This is why he did not ask Flanais for the Walking Barrier before setting off.

The upgraded scepter provided him with another layer of insurance. Now the Silver Scepter and Viszar were both his spellcasting media. As long as there was the wind of magic, the scepter would unleash a defensive force that was even more terrifying than a walking barrier.

As the scepter was raised, a dazzling light burst out, like a bright moon in the night sky. The power of soul quenching surrounded him, like a shield, isolating him from the decay and darkness around him. Under the shining light, the gloomy inner wall suddenly became as bright as day, and the brilliance was as blazing as the sun, dispelling all the evil forces around him.

The swarm of insects rushed towards Dacus frantically. Thousands of insects densely covered the ground and walls. They made a creepy buzzing sound, like a black frenzy. However, when these insects came into contact with the soul-quenching light, they instantly turned into ashes and disappeared without a trace. The insects twisted and burned in the light, and finally disappeared quickly like a spark that was extinguished, leaving only the smell of burning in the air.

The light emitted by the soul quenching not only affected the insect swarm, but also had a huge deterrent effect on the surrounding rotting plants and creeping creatures. The twisted trees trembled under the light, and the originally entangled branches broke and fell to the ground, turning into a mass of ashes. The sticky weeds and vines were like burning paper, quickly burning up, leaving behind charred marks, but the smell of decay and stench still filled the air.

Every step he took left a burning mark on the ground. He was like a purifier with a halo, purifying everything he went through. His steps were firm and swift, and wherever the light reached, all corruption and darkness retreated.

As he continued to move forward, the light around his body became stronger and stronger, and the rotting plants and creeping creatures were all burned to ashes. The oppressive feeling that once suffocated him gradually dissipated in the light. The energy contained in the light even burned the smell, and the rotten smell and stench disappeared, leaving only the smell of burning in the air.

He took a deep breath and felt that he could finally breathe, otherwise he would be suffocated. However, before one wave of troubles subsided, another wave of troubles arose, and swarms of insects, or more precisely, swarms of flies appeared.

The swarm of flies was so huge and endless that it formed a huge black web that covered the sky and the sun. For a moment, the entire scene disappeared in the endless darkness. They were like a black torrent, rushing towards Dacus from all directions with a breath of destruction.

They were more ferocious than the previous swarms, larger in size, with sharp mouthparts and hard shells, and bloodthirsty eyes. Their chitinous wings, which looked like beetles, shone with a strange luster, and the sound of their wings was even harsher, like thunder, vibrating Dacus's eardrums. Compared to them, the green-headed flies in the cesspool were nothing.

The humming sound was like an ancient spell, echoing in the air, as if gnawing at the boundary between heaven and earth, making it difficult for Daquus to distinguish between reality and illusion. The humming sound lingered in his ears, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, like a crazy symphony.

He could feel the corrosive force of the buzzing, a force that penetrated deep into his soul and made him uneasy, as if every fly was whispering in his ear, telling him of endless pain and fear.

The buzzing sound was like a sharp blade, cutting through the barrier of reason, making him want to go crazy involuntarily, gritting his teeth to get rid of this endless torture. The air was once again filled with the smell of decay, mixed with the sound of flies flapping their wings, almost suffocating him, and making his whole world collapse.

For a moment, the flies seemed to break through the soul-quenching barrier and burrow into his scalp, sucking his blood, laying eggs in his hair, dripping down each hair, and he felt countless crawling and stinging pains, as if flies began to crawl under his skin.

The hum was no longer as harsh as before, but the music that had accompanied him for many years, the sound of growth in the garden of a loving father, the melody of divine corruption.

The humming changed again, sounding a lot like a whisper.

The buzzing sound became louder and softer. This extremely contradictory state should not appear, but it did. The feeling was beyond his perception.

The buzzing sound was rapid, as if it was commanding him, pulling him, making him unable to discern the direction and addicted to it.

The buzzing sound put him in a fantasy world. The terrain was undulating and the altitude was constantly rising. A river was flowing on his left. The water was brown-gray and extremely cold. Soft, rotten objects were rolling in the water.

Black foam gurgled around the rocks, leaving a slime behind. The forests on both sides of the river trembled, with dangling fungi hanging from the leafless trees. Huge colonies of mold covered the branches, thicker than the trunks, and the masses of mold dragged the branches to the ground. The loam was thick, like a rotting carpet, and insects foraged on it.

"Deliver your death to me."

A belief was formed. He would serve Nurgle. This was the value of his survival. He could not go against the will of the Plague Father. He needed to respond to Nurgle's call. This would be his most important duty.

He was walking, and with every step his armor made a clanking sound as it was drowned in mold. Several of the spiked plates cracked as the joints were squeezed, but the damage to the armor was not from the outside, but from the inside. The gas in his body made his abdomen swell, squeezing the armor from the inside, like a fat maggot crawling out of an egg sac.

In his mind, his gardens stretched from Asheriel in the south to the Isle of Albion in the north, from Ulthuan to Elsin Arwen, and brought in coveted harvests. His domain was so great that it could not even be described in a single word.

Great bloated lakes, fly plantations, patches of flesh sewn from irrigation ditches filled with withered steam and infested with flies laying their eggs. Everywhere you look, creatures that were once elves, once humans, and had lymphomas are plowing the fields with rakes and hoes, or wading into ponds with long hooks to turn over bloated bodies floating in them, leaving them to mature.

He took another step, but at the cost of hundreds of dead bodies dragged to the nursery to replenish the soil. He let out a simple sigh of joy and squatted in the mud.

The remains of crucified men, women, and children lay densely packed on the ground, and here were found the bodies of nearly every race, and a fetid breeze moaned among the dead, causing them to hum and sway like the leaves of a dense mass of blossoming trees.

He stood up, pulled out the dagger, and sawed off one of his hands, which was beginning to liquefy and separate from the wrist. A drop of oily black liquid dripped from the wound, and he licked the liquid and closed his eyes in joy.

Then he went to the prepared table, adjusted the dagger so that the point was downward, and plunged the blade into the rotten chest of the corpse on the table in front of him. The corpse was like soft gray cheese spread on dry bread, without any resistance, just like cutting marrow jelly. When he cut from neck to tail vertebrae, the meat was divided into a mass of maggots, and viscera and body fluids dripped from the wound.

The smell was pure deliciousness, making his stomach growl. Rot was delicious, loose fat, softened fibers, everything was so delicious. He licked the juices on the blade, his mouth opened to accommodate the entire fist. The various tastes and smells made his body tremble, and he closed his eyes in intoxication. The power of new life made his tongue tingle, and then spread throughout his body like a warm current.

"Feast, my children!"

As Dacius called out, with the crunching of rotten meat and the cracking of bones, the apostles gathered around him ate hungrily. He looked at the apostles and placed his hands on his swollen waist with satisfaction.

The Apostle handed him his helmet, and his voice came out of the steel, and he howled wordlessly, veins popping out of his bulging biceps as his hands clenched the trident he used to tend the garden. The power given by the kind father seeped out of him, turning the air around him a syrupy brown.

He laughed, a long, piercing laugh that turned into a cough, and yellow phlegm spurted out of his mouth. The phlegm sprayed onto the ruins, and the moment it touched the disgusting, spreading lichens twitched, suddenly accelerated their growth, and finally died.

Behind him, sickly cyclops began to take shape. Horned and slimy, they held jagged swords that stank of rotting souls. They were the Counts of Nurgle, the bearers of the Plague. As they took shape they sang, horrible music, a cacophony of discord that celebrated corruption. The air, as foul and suffocating as ever, became even fouler with the singing.

The gardens resounded with the clatter of the assembled troops, the blast of the trumpets, and the clatter of the marching army, a clatter so great that it was like lungs filled with fluid, like the humming, echoing, and creeping of millions of insect wings.

"You are a little bit..."

Perhaps other people would have given up in this situation and thrown themselves into the arms of their loving father. But who was he? His soul was exceptionally strong. He did not think about the nature of the illusion, because he knew that this was a promise given by Nurgle.

The illusion was his strength, the blurry fragment, his goal, his eternal torment and stimulation, and also his frustration. But the problem was… what the hell was this? If he was not mistaken, he should be a Chaos Lord of Nurgle in the illusion, not even a fucking Demon Prince.

Is there anyone who paints cakes like this? Is this mercy? Who is he? At his level, even the cakes of the Great Unclean One are not good enough. Nurgle must step down and he will take over, letting Nurgle become the Great Unclean One.

But he also understood Nurgle's thinking logic. This is for Tzeentch to see. You see, the existence you regard as an opponent is just an ant that can be crushed to death at any time in my eyes, a poor plaything. Isn't this the time to get back the advantage? This seems to make sense, right?
The next second, he broke away from the illusion with a smile on his face. As he raised the scepter, the light of the silver scepter shone in the darkness, like a beacon of hope, guiding him in the right direction.

Phoenix Flame, pure white flames appeared out of thin air, forming a barrier around him. The white flames burned around him, emitting a blazing light. Those flies that tried to approach him were immediately turned into ashes as soon as they touched the flames.

He swung his staff, each swing carrying infinite power. However, the number of flies seemed endless, pouring out of the portal in wave after wave, trying to drown him in this endless darkness. Under the protection of the flames, he continued to move forward, each step was full of determination and fearlessness, and the barrier of fire allowed him to carve out a safe passage through this darkness and decay.

The flies seemed to sense Dacus's powerful strength. They began to gather rapidly and merged into a giant fly in the darkness.

Dacus looked at the giant creature hovering outside his attack range. The fly's huge compound eyes stared at him, as if they could see through his every thought. At the moment of staring at each other, his soul suddenly felt a violent tremor. It felt like he was facing an extremely powerful being. All his secrets and emotions seemed to be exposed to those cold and ruthless eyes.

Those compound eyes sparkled with antiquity and depth, mixed with endless love and compassion.

Daquus felt an indescribable pressure, a feeling he had never experienced before, more direct than when Tzeentch stood on his shoulder. The fly's wings trembled slightly, making a low buzzing sound, which seemed to have some kind of magic, making him dizzy. Without the trident supporting him, he could hardly stand steadily, and everything in the depths of his soul was infinitely magnified, and every cell in his body was trembling.

He knew that he was being watched by Nurgle at the moment, and he could not be defeated by this pressure. He had to concentrate all his will and resist the oppression that almost destroyed his soul, otherwise the illusion would become true. He gritted his teeth and held Vizar and the Silver Scepter tightly in his hands.

As time went by, he gradually regained his peace and broke through his limits again. He seemed to have completed some kind of test, and at this moment he was sublimated, a gift from his loving father, although this was not the gift that his loving father wanted to give him.

"Lord of Chaos? Is this your mercy? Or pitiful charity? You are too conservative! Get out!" Daxus's voice echoed, and the moment he finished speaking, the arcane magic exploded on the surface of the fly, and the dazzling light shone like stars.

The fly's body trembled violently under the impact of the arcane cracking, making a sharp hissing sound. The broken scales and rotten flesh were blown to pieces, and the existence of the entire creature was being disintegrated bit by bit.

"Also, it's wrong to hold grudges. You should be kind, open-minded and generous! I look forward to the illusion that will follow!" Daxus' voice was full of sarcasm, just like the process of a Western meal, everything just now was just the appetizer, Nurgle made promises, negotiated and talked to him, and now the negotiations broke down, he once again angered Nurgle.

Things were just as he thought. At this moment, a portal suddenly appeared in the air not far away. The portal emitted a strange light, rotating and connecting. He knew that a new challenge was coming.

"Good man, you come and mess with Tuo Da right away." Daqiu cursed angrily.

An extremely bloated figure slowly emerged from the portal... (End of this chapter)