Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"What do you mean?" Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked at the Blade of Reality that fell in the gap.

"We...even the gods are slaves to fate, my friend. Take this city, for example. It was once a temple dedicated to a god without a name.

Speaking more broadly, these realms are filled with forgotten gods. Thousands of gods were born from these realms. The Power of Destruction is only the most powerful among them, and the Chaos Four are the most powerful of all gods. They are islands in the ocean of madness.

I arranged the pieces because I knew how the game would play out. Chaos became my shield, my talisman, you see?" Zuvas said, gesturing to the surroundings.

"what do you want?"

"You are special, you are different from the others, you have caught the skin of something you could never imagine...? You saw the cage for what it is."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you wouldn't. Look around, is there anything familiar?" Zuvas took a step towards Ryan, and Ryan took a step back.

As before, Ren's reflection, because there were many, stretched into various possibilities, all of which faced Zuvas. Some were terrible, some were more heroic than he had imagined. But somehow, the Zuvas before him did not change. Perhaps Zuvas was a fixed point, and no matter how the winds of fate blew, something inevitable would happen, and the thought made him shudder.

"What is this place?"

"Don't you remember? The city is moving, it's moving now, isn't it?" Zuvas leaned against a pillar, his arms crossed, a look of mocking casualness. He stretched out his arms, tapped the pillar, and finally pointed at Ryan's chest, "Like debris on the water, it gathers together and breaks apart, but it always moves. It wants you to be here, so you are here, we are here, as certain as fate, just so certain."

Ren looked down, and at some point, the amulet he had stepped on after being teleported appeared in front of him, suspended in the air. A brass amulet, one twisted into an incomplete but somehow double-ended shape, like a broken smile.

"Or rather, have you ever asked yourself how it got here? Who left it there? If we go looking for it, I wonder... will we find it? Waiting for you to pick it up sometime in the future? Or in the past? After all... it's hard to tell which is which in this place."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, it's hard for me to remember. Being here is like being thrust into every memory at once. They ebb and flow like the tides, changing from day to day. These are not questions you should be asking, nor are they questions I should be telling, my friend. I'm sorry." Zuvas sighed.

"Do you know what hell is? Monotony, an endless cycle, endless repetition. This is this place, a prison of cursed souls, where they forever devour each other!" Before Ryan could react, Zuvas pounced on him, grabbed Ryan's throat with his fingers, lifted Ryan up, and pushed Ryan to the edge of the pillar.

"But even the strongest prison walls can collapse due to a crack in the right place! Just like this... Such a small thing, a talisman, but it doesn't bring luck, does it?" Zuvas held back the resisting Ryan, he grabbed Ryan's wrist and squeezed, whispering.

"Just because I'm talking to you means I won't kill you." Zuvas took a step back and let Ryan go.

"Why... don't you kill me?" Ryan leaned against the pillar, holding his throat and coughing, his eyes glanced at his sword, with a thrust and a little luck, he might be able to get the Reality Blade.

"You can't get it."

"What do you want?" Ryan froze, his pride not wanting him to admit it, but what Zuvas said was the truth, and he closed his eyes.

"I want what you want." Zuvas picked up the amulet and walked towards the location of the Reality Blade. He hooked the hilt with his toes, and when the Reality Blade was free falling in the air, he grabbed the hilt firmly and then swung it, as if testing the balance of the blade. He swung the sword in an almost familiar posture.

Then, under Ryan's gaze, he continued to swing the blade, his movements were swift and smooth, as if the blade of reality belonged to him. The blade drew silver arcs in the air, and each swing was extremely precise. The sound of the blade breaking through the air echoed in the air, with a cold sharpness. His wrist turned lightly, and the blade of reality danced with his thoughts, as if it was an extension of him, not an external object.

Each slash showed unparalleled power and speed. The blade was like an unstoppable lightning, cutting the surrounding air. He kept speeding up the rhythm while swinging, and the sharp sword wind formed a violent vortex around him, as if everything was sucked into it. Every move he made was perfect, and every angle was carefully calculated, so accurate that it was hard to believe that this was a weapon he had just picked up.

Ryan stood aside, his eyes fixed on Zuvas's movements, with a complex feeling in his heart. This sword was a weapon that he cherished very much, and now in Zuvas's hands, it seemed so natural, as if the Blade of Reality had finally found its true master. That natural control, that impeccable proficiency, as if there was some unfathomable connection between Zuvas and the Blade of Reality, made him suddenly realize something, and countless fragments had some kind of connection.

As Zuvas swung the Reality Blade for the last time, it paused in the air, the tip of the sword drooping slightly, as if waiting for the next fatal blow. He slowly retracted the sword, stared at Ryan coldly, and then threw the Reality Blade to Ryan.

"Now, there is still some time, let's start." After Ryan caught the Blade of Reality steadily, Zuvas drew out his broken sword. The blade was covered with notches and looked not sharp at all, but his posture of holding the sword was still as steady as a rock.

As the words fell, Zuvas swung his sword and attacked Ryan.

Ryan reacted quickly and blocked the attack with the Reality Blade, however, Zuvas's strength was beyond his expectations, and the huge impact made him step back a few steps, and he felt a sense of pressure on his arm.

"Don't just think about defense!" Zuvas' voice revealed calmness, and then he suddenly exerted force and attacked several times in a row, each sword going straight to Ryan's vital points.

Ryan tried to fight back, but Zuvas's broken sword always blocked his attack at the critical moment. In every confrontation, Zuvas would intentionally or unintentionally lead the sword to Ryan's flaw. Zuvas's movements were smooth and swift, as if he was weaving an invisible net, gradually forcing him into it.

"Your movements are too stiff. You must learn to relax! The speed and power of swinging the sword must follow your heart!" Zuvas instructed Ryan while fighting. His tone was not harsh, but every word he said accurately hit Ryan's weakness.

Ryan tried to adjust his pace and sword moves, but every time he made a change, Zuvas would quickly adjust his rhythm, forcing him to adapt to the new pressure. In every fight, he could feel that he was making rapid progress, but the price of this progress was that he was beaten harder every time, and there were even a few times when he was almost forced into a desperate situation.

"Hurry up, don't let thinking slow down your actions!"

The Reality Blade gradually became lighter in Ryan's hand, and his movements became more and more coherent. Several counterattacks in danger even made Zuvas look sideways. He no longer adhered to the rules and began to respond to Zuvas's attacks with intuition and instinct. Every strike was on the edge of the sword. His swordsmanship gradually became sharp and accurate, no longer as stiff as it was at the beginning.

Finally, in a fierce attack, Ryan seized Zuvas's weakness and pointed the blade of reality directly at his chest. However, Zuvas gently flicked the broken sword in his hand, neutralizing his sword force, and at the same time turned the hilt and touched his shoulder.

"Not fast enough. Now, let's get out of here, my friend." Zuvas retracted the broken sword and said calmly.

Ryan looked at Zuvas's back, then at the Reality Blade in his hand. In the end, he chose to put the sword away and silently followed Zuvas's pace. While walking, he could hear the sound of drums coming from somewhere, and the screams of monsters in the ruins. The city moved as if it was holding its breath.

"Strange, why would I believe you, who are you?"

"Yes, it shouldn't, but you want to believe it, and the only fact that matters is that you want to believe it. Listen, if you listen closely, you can hear the alleys eating each other."

"Why are you telling me this? Or why are you doing this?"

"I told you, you're important. You're the crack that makes everything fall apart." Zuvas turned and stared at Ren.

"What do I need to do?" Ryan looked away, avoiding Zuvas's gaze, the thoughts in his mind moving like broken glass, piercing deep into his body, tearing holes and letting new light in. After a long moment, he spoke.

"A century ago? But it feels like only... a few days? Someone must have opened the way from the other side." Zuvas nodded.

There was another moment of silence, and soon, Ryan and his new friend arrived at their destination.

"As I said before, a key, or a map?" Zuvas said as he dragged something out and threw it on the ground.

Lane realized it was a sarcophagus like those he had seen elsewhere in the city, except this one was made of a solid piece of glass. He could see a shrunken mummy inside, which reminded him of the unseen things he had encountered in the sewers.

"Stand back. There are always traps in places like this." Zuvas squatted beside the sarcophagus and slid his fingers along the sides of the coffin.

There was a sound like glass falling, and the sarcophagus suddenly cracked into several tiny cracks. He put his fingers into the cracks and easily opened them. A colorless steam floated out. Soon, the owner of the sarcophagus was revealed.
"Moskal?" Ryan could see the faded tattoos left from the corpse's bald head to the robe. More tattoos covered his hands, which were tightly clenched on the hilt of the bronze sword, which was placed across his sunken chest. He muttered to himself and answered his own questions.

"A sword slave. These tattoos are a sign of sale." Zuvas reached for the skull and heard a slight sound.

Ryan saw the dead man's fingers move and grip the hilt tightly.

"Catch it." Zuvas grabbed the skull and twisted it off directly. He threw the skull to Ryan.

When Ryan caught the skull steadily, the headless corpse sat up and raised the sword. Zuvas took a step back and drew his broken sword.

The corpse stood up and swung the sword with startling grace. But Zuvas was stronger, or more skilled, and he easily blocked the blow, then with a simple slash, severed one of the corpse's arms, and a second slash split its spine in two. The corpse continued to twist, trying to raise the sword, but he stepped on the shoulder joint. Then he reached out and tore off the remaining arm, threw it casually on the ground, and turned around.

"What is that?" Ryan, who was watching closely, suddenly saw something running out of the shadows. He looked over and saw a scaly object sliding away and disappearing. "Don't worry, you do it, or me? Forget it, I'll do it." Zuvas said at the end and stretched out his hand, motioning Ryan to throw the skull over.

"The traditions and customs are different in every place. Here, when slaves are first purchased, their tongues must be cut off. The masters here like to use jewelry or gold replicas instead of tongues, and sometimes... it's a very good hiding place. After all, who would have thought that a very important thing would be in the mouth of a slave?" He caught the skull and lifted it up, pulling off the jaw of the skull. After he held the jaw in his hand, he threw the skull on the ground casually like garbage.

“I have to say, this is a very good idea.”

Zuvas nodded in agreement, rubbing the hand holding his tongue. Soon, a strange artifact appeared. He lifted the artifact up and observed it carefully.

The artifact was both circular and rectangular, like several shapes trying to occupy the same space. It reminded Ryan of what he saw on the street, with its intertwining arches and steps.

"The city mirror map drawn by Moska," Zuvas said in a low voice, then looked at Ryan and asked, "Don't you have any questions?"

"No, because I know you would tell me even if I don't ask." Ryan shook his head in response.

"To call it a mirror is to simplify something extremely complex. This city is a labyrinth of the soul, a fortress of the spirit."

"Mirror... map? Showing how to leave the city?"

"No, someone needs to read it. It shows how to repair the city." Zuvas held the relic aloft, turning it so that its impossible curves caught the light.

"Is that what you want to do? Fix it?"

"A perfect prison, inviolable, unbreakable. Various forces rampage inside, killing each other. Their blood waters the city's stones, and the city greedily licks this nourishment. Like a vampire, the city dies, but it is not dead. It sleeps in the shadows for a moment, grows, and waits.

Well, that's the question, isn't it? What will become of this city? It's not the key, but it can help us make the key, you see? And if the key is made, what will happen? What will come out of this place? A hundred million imprisoned souls? Or something worse? Something that will pass through every shard of glass and reach the realms beyond? A city, or a new god?" Zuvas laughed, his voice harsh and hollow.

"So, is this the God you serve? Something that doesn't exist?" Ryan stared at Zuvas. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature, and he asked softly.

"Perhaps, or perhaps it is something that exists forever. The power of destruction is beyond our perception, my friend.

They are children who have always existed but have not yet been born, who destroy themselves at every evening prayer and recreate themselves in the light of dawn. They shrink for centuries and then expand again like a newly lit spark.

Now, let's hand it over to the right person so that things can continue. "Zouvas said, no longer admiring the artifact, he stretched out his hand and handed the artifact to Ryan.

"Why would you go to the trouble of trying to retrieve something like this if you were planning on giving it away?" Ryan asked, holding the artifact in his hands.

“Because that’s how you put the puzzle together, one piece at a time.”

"It's you, you planned all this, right?" Ryan said, taking a few steps back, as if he already knew how it would end. Various possibilities appeared in his mind, but none of them were pleasant. He fell into the trap that he had been trapped in since he came to this city.

"You know why I need you here, Ren, you are part of the loop, you are the singularity! You have no idea how long I have waited, how many times I have strayed from my path, searching for the right one. And now, finally, I have found it? Everything is as it should be?" Zuvas said softly, pulling out the amulet from his armor, which gleamed coldly in the strange light.

"What about me? Where do I belong?"

"You'll get your answers, time is running out, now, let's get out of here."

Ryan and his new friend set out on the road back. They walked in the corridor, the light around them flickered, as if the ancient building was responding to their footsteps. He silently pondered what Zuvas had just said, his mind full of doubts and uneasiness.

"Do you have cigarettes?" At this moment, Zuvas suddenly stopped, turned around and looked at Ryan.

Ryan was stunned for a moment. Zuvas asked a question, but his tone seemed very certain. He touched the pocket hanging on his waist, took out a pipe from it, and handed it to Zuvas.

"Come on," Zuvas said, making a gesture of refusal.

Ryan hesitated for a moment, then lit his pipe. The smoke rolled in his lungs, bringing him a relaxing feeling.

Zuvas looked at Ryan with a hint of satisfaction and intoxication in his eyes. His lungs shrank as Ryan exhaled and expanded as Ryan inhaled.

"My friend, look forward, always look forward. You will never look back, always look forward. And of course, if you can, don't leave that planet."

The War Golem fell, and Ryan and Zuvas came out and met Dacus who was walking at the front of the team.

The odd point reaches the even point.
-
The Shadowspire shook and broke, unraveling like a thread. Shattered, glittering shards of glass fell across the city, and people fled in all directions, hacked to pieces by the falling debris.

As Rakesh hid in a safe passage, he saw a woman covered in wounds dragging herself through the street, choking in prayer. He saw a priest gouging out his own eyes while shouting a name. He saw a soldier hacking frantically at a broken glass, and something in the glass was trying to pull the soldier into it.

He didn't want to hear the rumbling, so he put his hands over his ears and stepped over the dying woman, hurrying toward the only place that could offer him shelter: a temple, an ancient structure whose first walls had been raised when the city was just a fence and a few buildings.

The city is the site of ancient legends and stories, saying that in the earliest times this may have been the final resting place of something older than the kingdom itself. A god cast out of the void, broken and forgotten.

Behind him came the sound of a mirror shattering, a lone, agonized note stretching to what seemed infinity, and echoing on all sides with the howls of the dying, a chorus of voices wailing in sudden, sharp shock, their sanctuary snatched away and plunged into darkness.

A cold, ugly light filled the street, shadows dancing in the glare, ugly and joyful. The air trembled with echoes, and glass dust rolled and choked the street.

As he ran up the steps, he felt shards of glass embedded in his wounds, and his amulet bounced against his chest. The amulet was cold and heavy, and he grabbed it for comfort. The amulet seemed to twist in his hands, which made him feel disgusted, but it was too late now. There were only two paths before him, death or life.

As he walked through the temple, the pillars cracked and spewed dust, everything shook and fell apart at the seams. Glass moved away from the walls and shattered on the floor, and as the glass shattered, he heard the wails of the dead again. He could feel the fear of the people as their paradise became hell.

Suddenly there was a louder sound, a huge, continuous sound of breaking glass, which echoed in the street and filled the air with a suffocating feeling.

He stumbled along, dodging a boulder that nearly crushed him, and as he reached the nave he tried to remember the prayer he had learned when he had acquired the amulet. It was an ancient prayer, most of the words meaningless, gibberish from a distant age. But he grasped at the prayer like a drowning man, spouting words as he struggled toward the faceless statue. He hoped that these words would be powerful, that they would save him, and even the city.

As he reached out to touch the statue, to touch the god he had called but didn't know his name, he heard the pillars of the roof snap and break. He looked up and saw the great slab of stone fall down, its edge catching him and pinning him to the ground, and he felt a sharp pain. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a gasp of pain.

His hands flailed, instinct prompting him to try to drag himself out from under the stone, to escape the pain. But his body did not respond, his legs and chest were stuck tightly, crushed. Blood filled his lungs and dripped from his lips, mixing with his tears and snot. He was dying, and he propped himself up on his elbows, and his amulet scraped on the floor, which sounded like laughter.

Amid the din of the city's death, he heard a new sound, a strange, wet, crackling sound. His eyes were drawn to a nearby shard of glass that trembled, but in a different way than the others. As he watched, the surface of the shard bulged and rose, as if something was pushing it up from below.

Cracks appeared on the surface of the fragment, emitting an ugly glow. The fragment widened and peeled away, and then a hand reached out and groped blindly for a moment before finding the edge of the stone slab.

Despite the pain, he couldn't look away, watching the thing, or more precisely a stranger, crawl out of the debris. It was impossible, it shouldn't be possible, but somehow, the stranger did, appeared before his eyes.

"Where is this...?" The stranger, dressed in tattered armor and a tattered cloak of faded sky blue, slumped over the fallen stone slabs, coughing. He looked around as the ground shook and another pillar collapsed, asking hoarsely. Then he squinted his eyes and muttered to himself, "Praise Huangqi, I know this place."

Rakesh reached out and grasped the edge of the stranger's tattered cloak, and the stranger looked down at him with something like recognition in his eyes.

"you……"

"I...I am Laksh..."

The stranger reached for the amulet hanging around Rakesh's neck and he lifted it up, seeming to admire its curves and whorls.

"Who are you?" Laksh asked hoarsely.

"I am... Zuvas? You are always like this, you are always like this, we are old friends, you and I, or... we will be friends." (End of this chapter)