Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"What are you thinking at this moment?" Daxus's eyes fell on Aspern, his voice low and with a sense of oppression that could not be ignored.

Aspern, who was still thinking about the chaos and bloodshed just now, was dazed for a moment after hearing the question, but he did not fall into confusion. After feeling everyone's gaze, his expression returned to normal. After a moment, he opened his mouth and pointed to his cheek. Behind his cheek was his oral cavity and his upper teeth.

"What a shame." Daxus narrowed his eyes, a mocking smile appeared on his face. He shook his head slightly and cursed in a low voice.

He knew what Asperen was saying. If he guessed correctly, there was a movable fang in Asperen's mouth, which contained a deadly poison, reserved for suicide. As for where the fang was hidden, he didn't think Asperen would honestly show it to him.

He sighed, and the smile on his face gradually disappeared, replaced by a deep seriousness. He turned his head and looked around. The elves' eyes were a little tired, but more tenacious.

"You are all my close friends. You all know what I have been through and what I have faced along the way." Dacus spoke slowly, his tone full of warning and determination, "You must be extra careful in everything you do. Don't get caught and don't make stupid mistakes!"

"That's enough. The next step is winning." Selire patted his chest as if to cheer himself up.

"Only death!" Bainie raised his chin, his voice low but firm.

In the current team, Bainie is one of the most senior. He started following after Dacus returned to Krakalond, and has been with them all the way to the present. He knows clearly what Dacus is expressing.

"The Mother of Darkness will protect us." Aspern whispered, as if adding weight to his determination with faith.

As a temporary joiner, Aris was like an outsider. He didn't express anything and didn't ask any questions. He just watched quietly with a serious expression.

The expressions on the elves' faces were different, but without exception, they all revealed a deep determination and tacit understanding. This atmosphere made him feel unfamiliar, but he couldn't ignore it. He vaguely felt that there was some kind of deviation from his past cognition that couldn't be ignored.

He remembered that Talos had mentioned that this team had fought Chaos more than once. At that time, he was full of doubts, thinking that it was just an exaggeration. However, now, his doubts were shattered by the details that kept accumulating. The descriptions and judgments of Chaos by Asrai and Ainir in the tent did not seem to be false.

The expressions, words, and tacit understanding between these elves were something he had rarely seen. There was a kind of coldness and experience in their eyes, which was not just pride, but the calmness that came from the test of blood and fire.

"chaos."

Ares whispered in his heart. This word had never been so heavy before. As a descendant of the Anar family, he knew the horror of Chaos. He realized that what these people had experienced was obviously beyond his imagination. There was no boasting in their tone, only a calmness and restraint, which only comes after experiencing it.

He felt a subtle uneasiness, which came from his own perception being shaken. He never thought that one day he would stand among these people. He once thought that Chaos was a nightmare far beyond his world, and his battle was for the glory of Nagarythe, not for such a deep and unsolvable war.

His eyes swept over Baine, the black guard who was as steady as a cornerstone in the team. He then looked at Aspern, the Duruchi who was calmly praying for the protection of the Mother of Darkness. The two were completely different, but both showed a kind of inner certainty. Although Celile's smile was frivolous, it could not hide the clear foresight of the future, and Talos's expression was calm, as if he took all this for granted.

"Did I... miss something?"

A wave of doubts surged in Ares's heart. He felt like an outsider. Although Talos had told him some information, he still could not understand why these elves had such a deep confrontation with Chaos. He began to realize that these people's battles were not just for victory, but for survival. Perhaps what Talos said was true, and these elves had already been in a battlefield that was more profound than he knew.

His thoughts became deeper and deeper, his fists clenched unconsciously, and complex emotions surged in his heart, confusion, uneasiness, and even a hint of unwillingness. He didn't want to admit that his cognition was so shallow, but the facts were in front of him.

Another point he couldn't ignore was that Dacus was always at the core of this team. Dacus didn't explain anything in detail, but every word, every warning, every command, was full of authority. Dacus was the leader of these people, a person that these elves trusted enough to follow to Hades.

He couldn't help but cast a complicated look at Dacreus, which reminded him of his grandfather and the story of Aenarion his grandfather told him when he was a child. He didn't know if it was an illusion or something else, but for a moment, he saw the shadow of Aenarion in Dacreus.

He needed answers, but he shook his head to clear the chaotic thoughts from his mind, knowing now was not the time to ask questions.

Seeing everyone nodding to show that they understood, Dacus's gaze softened a little. He was silent for a while, and finally just nodded without saying anything more. Some things don't need to be said explicitly, as long as you understand them, that's enough.

He knew in his heart that what they had just done had touched the bottom line of the Chaos Gods. The Chaos Gods regarded the Chosen and the Champion as tools and playthings, but their humiliation of Chaerzak just now, which made Chaerzak die without dignity, was undoubtedly a naked provocation, which Chaos could not tolerate the most.

Doing so is like slapping the Chaos Gods hard in the face. The Chaos Gods will definitely seek revenge, and the best breakthrough point is the elves surrounding him.

If I can’t do anything to Dacus, I can’t do anything to you?

But Dacus was not prepared to say this explicitly. He knew that there was no turning back from the beginning. The grudge between him and Chaos was not formed now, but had been engraved in the Book of Destiny since the first day he came to this world.

As long as he lives, as long as the Lizardmen and the Elves still exist, this eternal confrontation will never end.

The conflict between the two sides is destined to be a life-and-death struggle.

But then again, he had humiliated them before, and he was the kind who offended everyone equally. The only one who was slightly nice to him was Jianqi, and this time, he offended Jianqi badly. But it didn't matter, in the future, he would try to make up for it and make it seem that he didn't offend Jianqi that much.

If there are too many lice, don't be afraid of them biting you...

"That's all." Feeling that he was just complaining for no reason, he took a deep breath and concluded with a firm tone. Then, with a cold look in his eyes and a low voice, he added, "Just do it!"

The elves present did not say anything else, they stared at Daquus in silence, their eyes filled with complex emotions, fear, reverence, determination, but more of a desperate struggle against fate.

"set off!"

The team that had stayed on the street for a long time started moving again. They did not take a detour. Crossing the collapsed ruins was not a big deal for the cold lizards. It would only take some time.

After walking for a while, the team did not encounter any enemies, and the chaos wave entrenched in the city of Gorond seemed to have suddenly disappeared. However, this was just an illusion, and soon after, the team encountered another team.

There are many teams entering Gorond, such as Daxus's team. In addition to his team, there are many other teams, including the Black Guards led by Corran, the Cult of Khaine led by Hellebron, the traditional Druch infantry and behemoths, the Asrai led by Seonlan and Tyrandor, and small groups mainly composed of Wanderers, etc.

Of course, there are also the Huangqi Shadow Hunters who are responsible for doing the dirty work.

Mobile teams such as the Dark Riders, Cold One Dread Knights and Cold One Chariots did not enter the city. They were responsible for maneuvering outside the city, encircling and capturing the Yankees who tried to escape from Gorond and their cages.

Now, Daxus encountered a small group mainly composed of Wanderers, and there was an Aberration sandwiched between the two groups? He had just seen this Aberration who was killing people and fleeing before the Cold Ones launched their charge.

"See you in the square."

He did not stop. After taking a glance at the aberrant, he pointed forward and left.

However, what he didn't know was that his mouth was like a blessing... the moment he finished speaking, it happened.
-

Harbur stood in the center surrounded by the elves, the muddy ground seemed to swallow his steps. His chest rose and fell, blood mixed with sweat dripped from the broken armor. But what really made him uneasy was not the bows and arrows in the hands of these pointy ears, but the cold and familiar voice in his mind.

"You can't get away, little one."

The voice echoed again, deep and cold, as if it came from the deepest part of his soul. Strangely, it sounded just like Habur's own voice, only older and more evil, like another version of himself corroded by time, as if he and the owner of the voice were just two souls bound to the same body.

Habul frowned, trying to suppress the sound, but it became clearer.

"Challenge that elf! Kill him!"

There was an unmistakable fury in the tone of the command, as if Habur was just a slave of some master, being forced to complete a designated task.

"Shut up!"

Harbur growled, clenched his fists, and dug his nails into his palms. He didn't like to obey anyone's orders, whether it was the enemy, his comrades, or even this mysterious voice. He glanced around and tried to suppress the anger in his heart, but soon he realized that he had no way to retreat.

The elves around him were like wolves wandering on the Norse ice field, calm and composed, their bowstrings already stretched tight, their arrows pointed at him. He could feel the threat emanating from those pointed ears, a deadly sense of oppression, and he knew without words that the other party would not show mercy.

His eyes fell on Eltharion, who was not far away. The pointed-eared man was wearing silver armor, holding a long sword, and had a cold look in his eyes, like the eternal glacier on the Norse ice field. Eltharion's presence was like a shining light, stirring up an indescribable violent emotion in his heart.

"He suits you." Just as Harbur stared at Eltharion, a soft but powerful voice rang out on the battlefield. Kerillian walked to Eltharion's side, her tone relaxed but with some deep meaning. After she finished speaking, she slowly stepped back, leaving the stage for the two to fight.

"What exactly are you? And why are you in my body?"

Harbur took a step forward, staring at Eltharion fiercely, but paying more attention to the voice in his mind, he asked in a low voice.

"I am Zakan, the World Drinker. Your insignificant soul is merely the vehicle of my existence!" The voice seemed to be angered by the question, and the echo became more fierce and sharp, like the harsh sound of twisted steel.

Habul felt a splitting headache, but the voice did not stop.

"You'll understand in a moment. Now, go fight! Kill that elf! He's the only one who can prove your worth. Otherwise, you'll die here like a loser!"

"Loser?" Habul sneered, but his eyes were already burning with feral anger. Although the voice owner's order was infuriating, to some extent, he knew that he had no other choice. He clenched his fists and felt the mutant power boiling in his body. It was the power brought by Zakan and the only thing he could rely on to survive.

Eltharion looked at Harbur walking towards him, his eyes flashing with a complex emotion. The aura emitted by the Aberrant in front of him made him shudder. That twisted, evil presence seemed to be able to swallow up the entire battlefield at any time. This made him think of the various existences he encountered last night.

Although no one said it, he knew that the reason why this team existed was more because of him. He had an illusion that Dacus seemed to have some high hopes for him that he didn't even know about. Dacus seemed to have abandoned the opposition between Duruchi and Asur and hoped that he could grow up quickly and become a strong warrior. Bel Aihor, who came with him, did not join the battle from beginning to end.

He took a deep breath, gripped the fang sword tightly, pointed the tip forward, and walked with his steps as steady as a rock.

"Come on, Pointy Ears." Habul gritted his teeth and said, his voice was low and hoarse, with a kind of evil aura that did not belong to him. At this moment, his arms began to slowly deform, and bony claws emerged from under the skin, emitting black light.

Eltharion did not speak, he just pointed the fang sword forward, and the blade reflected a cold light under the double moons.

"Very good, little one. Let me see if you can take off his head." Zakan sneered in a low voice, and the sound echoed in Habul's mind.

Habul was like a monster released from the abyss, wielding a pair of mutant limbs, his axe-like arms emitting a chilling black light. His feet stepped on the muddy ground, the earth groaned with every step, and his anger devoured the air around him.

When Harbur uttered his first roar and rushed towards Eltharion like a gust of wind, the battle swept in like a storm.

Eltharion met the blow with dazzling swordplay, his tusked sword slashing in an elegant arc, trying to stop Habur's might. But Habur's mutant limbs were as flexible as living things, and his right arm turned into a bone sickle, slashing through the air in an instant, forcing him to quickly dodge to the side. Even so, the sharp sickle still left a deep dent in his armor. He tried to counterattack, striking in a swift arc, the blade pointing directly at Habur's heart.

However, Harbur had anticipated this move, and his left arm quickly expanded into a huge bone weapon like a crab's claw, which suddenly clamped Eltharion's blade.

At this moment, the sound of metal and bone colliding tore through the air, sparks flying.

Eltharion gritted his teeth and tried with all his might to pull back the fang sword, but Habur's pincers did not move at all, and even bent the blade slightly under the huge force.

“Is this your pride?”

Harbur roared with a ferocious look on his face. He exerted force suddenly and threw Isharion aside as if he was throwing away a piece of rag.

Eltharion rolled several times in the air and landed heavily, splashing mud and water. After spitting out the mud and water, he stood up quickly. Although his legs were shaking slightly, he still held the fang sword in his hand firmly, pointing the blade directly at the enemy.

Harbur did not give Eltharion a chance to breathe. His limbs instantly changed back to human form, but that was only to provide greater flexibility for the next mutation. A moment later, long bone spurs grew on both of his arms at the same time, like two huge poisonous needles. He crossed his arms and swung them, and each blow was accompanied by violent wind pressure.

With his superb swordsmanship, Eltharion managed to block several attacks, but his movements became slower and slower, and more cracks and bloodstains gradually appeared on his armor.

The climax of the battle reached its peak in just a few seconds.

Harbur suddenly leaped up, his arms fully extended into two huge sickles, covering Eltharion like the wings of the god of death.

Facing this fatal attack, Eltharion could only hold his fang sword across his chest and take the blow. With a deafening crash, his body was pressed to half-kneel on the ground, mud and water splashed everywhere, blood dripped down his arm to the ground, but he did not fall down, his eyes were still as sharp as an eagle.

"Can you still hold on?"

Habul sneered, swinging his arms slightly, like a beast testing its prey in between battles. His voice was full of mockery, but also a hint of respect, "I didn't expect a pointy-eared man to last until now. Come on, let me see how long you can hold on."

Eltharion did not answer. He gasped, used his last strength to stand up straight, and gripped the fang sword again.

A hint of fanaticism flashed in Habur's eyes, and his limbs changed rapidly again. His right arm turned into a thick bone whip and lashed towards Eltharion fiercely.

The whistling sound of the whip blade cutting through the air was terrifying. Eltharion barely managed to block it with his sword, but the power of the bone whip still pushed him back several steps, leaving a long trail in the mud under his feet.

Habul pressed forward step by step, swinging his mutant limbs without stopping, the changes of whip blade, sickle and pincers were almost seamless, and each attack was more ferocious than the previous one.

Eltharion gradually fell into a disadvantage, however, he never fell to the ground. Although his movements became stiff, his eyes still burned with unyielding fighting spirit.

"You can't win."

Harbur's voice was like a low thunder, and he swung his scythe-like right arm again, aiming directly at Eltharion's head.

However, at the critical moment, Eltharion used his last strength to roll to the side, barely avoiding the fatal blow. He half-knelt on the ground, supporting the fang sword with both hands, gasping and raising his head, his eyes flashing with the unique pride and tenacity of the elves.

The battle continued with fierce roars and the sound of metal clashing, and the light of sharp blades and claws was faintly reflected in the mud.

Harbur's mutant limbs showed nearly impeccable flexibility in the battle. His right arm turned into a spiked bone whip blade, constantly entwining and tearing, forcing Eltharion to retreat step by step. And his left arm was like a blade-like pincer, constantly trying to split Eltharion's body.

Several wounds on Eltharion's shoulder and leg were bleeding, and every drop of blood dyed the ground red. Although he was in a mess, he did not fall down. His fanged sword was still in his hand. Although the blade was covered with mud, it emitted a faint light, just like his stubborn will.

Harbur's attack became more and more fierce, his right arm whipped like a venomous snake, almost blocking all of Eltharion's escape routes. And his left arm was like a death scythe, accurately aiming at the fatal weakness of the elven warrior.

"Stop struggling!" he roared, his voice full of fanaticism and mockery, "You have already lost! Accept your fate!"

Eltharion did not respond. He gasped and barely dodged a sweep, but the mud under his feet made him lose his balance for a moment and almost fell. At this moment, Habur seized the opportunity and swung out with a bone whip blade, attacking his chest like a venomous snake. He had no way to avoid it, so he could only block it with his fang sword.

The whip blade hit the sword with a deafening sound. Istharion's body was blown away by the powerful impact and fell heavily to the ground again. He groaned, blood and mud overflowed from the corners of his mouth, and the fang sword also fell to the side.

Tolandil looked at Kerillian with a worried look on his face, while Kerillian, who was still staring at Eltharion, shook her head slightly.

When Harbur saw this, a ferocious smile appeared on his face. He slowly walked towards Eltharion, his mutated limbs making creaking sounds.

“You are tenacious, but you will eventually fall.”

He raised his scythe-like left arm, ready to slay Eltharion once and for all.

However, at the moment when the sickle chopped down, Eltharion's hand suddenly raised up and tightly grasped the fang sword that fell beside him. He jumped up from the ground at an incredible speed, and the blade pointed directly at Habur's chest.

Habul retreated quickly, but he was still a little slow. The tip of the fang sword grazed his chest, leaving a deep crack.

Eltharion seized this rare opportunity and began to fight back. Every time he swung his sword, he was filled with heavy determination, as if he had injected his life into the sword. He knew that he was exhausted and his wounds were bleeding, but his movements were still precise and graceful. His fanged sword drew cold light again and again, and sparks collided with Habur's limbs.

Harbur roared, his mutant limbs constantly changing, trying to suppress Eltharion. His right arm turned into a sharp needle, stabbing at Eltharion's head. His left arm turned into a huge bone clamp, trying to clamp the elf's body.

But Eltharion was calm and tenacious, and his swordsmanship was like flowing water, neutralizing most of Habur's attacks, although each time he paid a heavy price.

The battle lasted for several minutes, and Habur's anger gradually turned into anxiety. Although his mutated limbs were flexible, every change consumed his strength.

Although Eltharion was seriously injured, he held on with an extraordinary perseverance. He abandoned the gorgeous moves and began to attack more decisively. His actions were no longer purely defensive, but every sword tried to pierce Habur's vital points.

Habur suddenly exerted force, and his two arms attacked Eltharion at the same time. His left arm tried to clamp the elf's waist like a giant clamp, and his right arm turned into a thick bone spur, piercing the elf's chest.

Eltharion did not retreat, but rushed towards the deadly attack head-on, knowing that retreat would not solve the problem. At that moment, he poured all his strength into the fang sword and swung it in a deadly arc.

The sword flashed across the battlefield as fast as lightning.

"You talk too much, barbarian!"

Eltharion stood there, holding the fang sword in his hand, blood dripping from the blade. He was panting, his legs and feet were weak, and he could hardly stand, but his eyes were still firm. (End of this chapter)