Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Tularis Fearbringer swung his slasher, the blade cutting through the air with a chilling scream, easily tearing open the chest of a tattooed barbarian. Blood spurted out, splattering on the ground like a sacrifice, staining the soil under his feet red. After the blow was completed, he whispered an ancient prayer, his voice low, but full of cold piety.

This was not for himself, nor for those foolish enemies who fell, but an offering to Cain, the god of murder. Countless killings were not for glory, but to satisfy the god, so that his life in the name of killing would never run out. Cain's whisper echoed in his mind, and the voice struck his soul like thunder, like an acknowledgement of him.

After the prayer, he turned around and swung his sword. Without any unnecessary movements, the sword accurately pierced the throat of another human warrior wearing heavy black iron armor. The blade pierced through the neck, and the gushing blood drew an arc in the air.

The barbarian fell down helplessly, and behind his body, two beastmen with deformed goat heads took his place. The two monsters were covered with dirty fur, wielding rough and cruel double-edged axes, and roared and pounced on the Terrorbringer.

One of the beastmen suddenly leaped up, raised the axe in his hand high, and chopped towards Tularis with a whistling sound that tore through the air.

Facing such a crude and brutal attack, Tularis's movements were calm and precise. He swung the executioner's knife easily, cutting off the beastman's axe handle with one blow, and then slashed off the beastman's wrists in the subsequent counter-stab.

The monster that lost both hands howled in pain, its body retreating continuously due to the intense pain, and blood gushed out from the broken ends like a fountain, spilling all over the ground.

Another beastman launched a sneak attack from the side. Its movements were much more agile than Tularis expected. Under its clumsy appearance, it actually concealed a considerable speed. It wielded a rusty double-edged axe, pointing directly at Tularis' neck.

"Interesting, not bad for a beast!" Tularis whispered with a hint of mockery in his tone.

He quickly ducked his head to avoid the blow, and at the same time turned around and rammed his elbow into the monster's throat, crushing the monster's trachea with an extremely accurate blow. The beastman uttered a distorted grunt, knelt on the ground with his hands tightly covering his throat, and then collapsed to the ground like a pile of rags.

He stared at the monster coldly. He did not put an end to the beastman's suffering immediately, but slowly inserted the tip of the executioner's knife into the blood-soaked soil. Then, he pulled out the blood-stained dagger from his waist.

When the beastman struggled to raise his head due to suffocation, Tularis slowly approached and slowly carved the runes of Cain on its chest with a dagger. Each stroke was full of cold ritual sense, and each scratch was extremely precise, like some kind of solemn sacrificial ceremony.

Blood gushed out of the wound, dyeing Cain's runes crimson. Fear and despair were revealed in the beastman's distorted face, and his cloudy eyes stared at Tularis.

"Do you want to know why I do this, beast?"

Tularis bent down and looked at the monster, his tone cold and solemn.

His voice was low, with a power that went straight into the soul. He knew that the beast could not understand his words at all, but he still maintained the pride and etiquette of the elf. Everything must conform to the sense of ritual. This was one of the principles of his sacrifice to Cain.

"If you were an elf, I would use this slasher to complete the ritual. But you are not an elf, so you are not worthy!" His tone was cold, and his voice was full of undisguised contempt. His hand gently stroked the blade, as if the slasher was some kind of sacred object, and then continued, "This blade is a weapon blessed by Cain himself. It is a symbol given by the God of Murder when the order was first established. Only those who are truly worthy are qualified to die under its edge, and you... are just a filthy beast."

Tularis completed the last stroke, carving the rune perfectly. He stood up and stared at the blood gradually oozing out of the beastman's chest. The bright red liquid slowly gathered to form the sacred mark of Cain. The symbol exuded a strange and oppressive power, like an invisible altar, completely locking the fate of the beastman.

"You are unworthy, filthy thing. However, it gives me pleasure to deprive your humble soul of its belonging and refuse to let it return to the arms of those fallen gods." He raised his hand and slowly wiped the bloody dagger on the beastman's dirty fur, then put the dagger back into the scabbard at his waist. He bent down and approached the dying monster, his voice low and grim, with unquestionable majesty.

He paused, watching the beastman's dying struggles grimly, and continued.

"Through this mark, your soul has been branded by Khaine. From this moment on, you no longer belong to those corrupt and evil Chaos Gods. When you die, you will belong to Him, Khaine, the God of Murder. Do you understand? This is a glory you will never be able to understand, and it is also the gift you least deserve!"

The dying beastman frantically scratched Tularis's breastplate with his claws, trying to struggle out some resistance in the last moments of his life.

However, Tularis just watched these powerless actions coldly, and did not try to stop them. To him, this dying struggle was nothing more than a futile performance. He stared into the beastman's eyes until the light in the monster's eyes was completely extinguished and the life was completely dissipated.

"Kane, I offer this humble sacrifice to you." He prayed in a low voice, his voice full of piety and coldness, "This is one of the many sacrifices tonight. May the blood at this moment be a symbol of our contract. Grant me your power, so that every murder I commit tonight will be for you and contribute to your glory."

His faith in Kane is unquestionable, and he enjoys ritual, both in life and in battle, which he sees as a display of emotion that makes him proud, rather than a sign of weakness.

After finishing his prayer, he slowly stood up and pulled the executioner's knife from the ground. The blood on the blade glowed eerily in the firelight. He looked around, as if looking for the next sacrifice. His eyes were as sharp as a knife, and his murderous intent spread like a tide. Wherever he passed, blood flowed like a river.

At this time, the streets were full of fire and blood. Human barbarians and beastmen were rampaging among the ruins, destroying and killing crazily. There were screams, roars, and the crisp sound of metal colliding everywhere. The scattered Khaine followers fought the enemy in twos and threes, and the shadows of the flames were reflected on their blood-stained armor.

The originally large-scale battle has long since evolved into countless small-scale brutal battles.

Those crazy looters and beastmen hid in the ruins and blazing flames, waiting for their chance like a pack of wolves and launching guerrilla warfare. The witches of the Kane sect shined in these small-scale battles, and each of their attacks was full of precision and lethality. Their bloodthirsty nature made them very capable in this environment.

In contrast, although the executioners of Tularis were equally good at killing, they found it difficult to adapt to this fighting style. For these executioners who were used to fighting in formations, this scattered fighting style was a challenge. They were trained by Tularis to be precise fighting machines, and they relied on deadly coordination in formations to win. This reliance on collective fighting style made it difficult for them to quickly adapt to guerrilla warfare.

However, Tularis himself was an exception.

He could not fight alongside his companions in the ranks like Corran Blackhand did. He always walked alone and never really trusted any of his companions, not even his executioners. His high-ranking status and Cain's favor destined him to be a lone killer, his figure passing through the flames and corpses, every step as silent and deadly as Cain's arrival.

Killing is his belief and the meaning of his existence. His executioner is not only a weapon, but also the embodiment of Kane's will. Anyone who stands before him, no matter how strong or weak, no matter their race, will only turn into a pool of blood and become a sacrifice to Kane.

Over the centuries, he had faced his enemies countless times, heard Cain's whispers countless times, and he couldn't even truly trust her - the most important woman in his life.

Hellebron.

He had served Hellebron for so long that time had blurred his mind. From the first midnight of death he had known, from the first whisper of Cain in his ear, from the first life he had taken with his slicing blade, Hellebron had been everything to him.

Hellebron was his master, his lover, his queen.

"Is she watching?"

The thought flashed through Tularis's mind. Even in the burning ruins and bloody streets, he could still feel those eyes, as if Hellebron was always watching him, observing his every battle, every sacrifice, and enjoying the glory he brought to Cain and the sect.

Although he never found any trace of Hellebron, it did not stop him from imagining: Is she standing on a high tower, overlooking his battlefield? Is she satisfied with his killing tonight? Or is she immersed in her own ritual and has no time to pay attention to him?
There were no answers to these questions, and he didn't need any.

A moment later, he turned the corner and entered a wide, rubble-covered avenue. Cain's whisper seemed to guide him, leading him through the streets piled with ruins and corpses. The doors of houses were violently knocked open, and corpses were scattered all over the houses. Some were Duruchi who did not have time to escape from Gorond, and more were barbarians from the north.

Tularis's eyes swept over the corpses without any mercy.

"Too weak, his death is not worth mentioning."

When he walked out of the narrow streets, the scene in front of him suddenly became clear. It was a war-stained avenue, with corpses piled up into several huge piles of firewood, and the flames were burning, illuminating the surrounding streets red.

Next to the fire, there was a circle of humans wearing heavy armor, holding weapons, and surrounding a huge figure. That figure was a head taller than any other barbarian, like a moving iron tower. His red-gold armor shone brightly in the firelight, emitting an oppressive aura.

Tularis's gaze was fixed on the tall Chaos Champion, a truly powerful man.

The champion held a helmet with a skull as the face and an angular crest that looked like the runes of a god. His face was covered in scars and bruises, and the runes were drawn with dried blood, revealing an aura of evil and madness.

Clearly this was a powerful Chaos Champion, a favoured sacrifice to the God of Murder.

"Cain led me here so that I could complete a grand sacrifice." Tularis sneered under the cover of the skull helmet and muttered to himself.

"In the name of Cain, face me, you lackey of the devil!" He raised his slasher and shouted in a deep voice. The Chaos Champion who heard the challenge turned around with a hideous smile on his face. There was still blood on the corners of his grinning mouth, and his scarred face gave people a trembling deterrent feeling.

He raised his hand and waved his warriors to step back and make room for him. He threw the helmet on the ground and grabbed a huge double-edged battle axe beside him. The battle axe flickered with a strange brilliance in the firelight, and the runes on the blade seemed to come alive, twisting on the metal surface, as if cheering for the upcoming battle.

He strode towards Tularis, roaring in his throat, shouting some rough words in the barbarian language, his voice full of fighting spirit.

"I don't understand what you're saying, scum, but I'll take that as your agreement."

Tularis taunted with a cold tone, his tone revealing disdain and determination. He held the executioner's knife tightly in both hands, the blade slightly raised, exuding a sharp killing intent. When the battle axe came down with a heavy whistle, he calmly dodged sideways, and the executioner's knife in his hand easily drew an elegant arc.

The blade cut into the bloody armor of the Chaos Champion without hesitation, but unexpectedly, the armor did not break like ordinary metal, but seemed to have life, tightly absorbing his blade, as if trying to swallow the executioner. He tried to pull out the executioner, but found that the knife was firmly stuck and did not move at all.

The Chaos Champion let out a deafening laugh and stepped back violently, with such force that Tularis was thrown to the muddy ground.

Tularis rolled on the ground in a panic, avoiding another fatal chop from the battle axe. Then, he kicked hard, hitting the champion's shin covered with heavy armor. However, the next second, a sharp pain came from his leg, as if he had kicked not the armor, but an unshakable rock.

"Mother of Dark Night!"

He cursed under his breath, and struggled to stand up while enduring the pain. He ducked his head to dodge a sweeping attack from the Chaos Champion, then gritted his teeth and tried his best to grab the slasher stuck in the armor and pulled hard, but the armor was like a curse that tightly entangled the blade, leaving him helpless.

Another whistling blow came, and he had to jump back and barely avoid it again. The axe blade almost grazed his throat, and he could even feel the dangerous aura. His elegance was gone, replaced by the instinct of fighting, and his eyes began to quickly scan the surroundings, looking for weapons that could be used to fight.

However, the only weapons visible around were firmly held in the hands of eight Chaos Warriors. These warriors had surrounded him and the Chaos Champion, their eyes cold and cruel.

At this moment, the Chaos Warriors seemed to have some kind of evil interest in this battle and were just watching from the sidelines.

Tularis knew that the Warriors of Chaos would not stand idly by if he attempted to wrest weapons from them.

But, for him, it made the situation even more interesting.

In one fluid movement, the dagger at his waist appeared in his hand, and then at the throat of a Chaos Warrior.

As the dagger pierced the corrupted flesh, he rushed out like a beast. When the Chaos Warrior collapsed to the ground, he pulled a heavy sword from the fur scabbard at the Warrior's waist.

He turned and swung his sword, blocking the blow from the Chaos Champion's axe. With a sharp metallic clang, he swung again, the jagged blade cutting into the axe's hilt, splitting the massive weapon in two. The Chaos Champion stumbled back, but he pursued him relentlessly. Just then, he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, and he turned quickly, blocking the attack from a Chaos Champion with a third eye on his forehead with his sword.

"Sacrifice for Kane!"

He roared with bloody ecstasy, suppressed his desire to pierce the opponent's third eye with his sword, and stabbed the sword into the opponent's throat with force, and tore it to the side, blood gushing out of the wound like a fountain. The three-eyed man stood there for a moment, then fell silently, and fell face first into the mud.

Without hesitation, he threw his sword aside and picked up the fallen warrior's long-handled halberd. He quickly dodged to the left, avoiding the sword of another Chaos Warrior, and then jumped high, raising the halberd above his head.

"Fight for Kane!"

His voice was like thunder, and the halberd struck the Chaos Champion with devastating force, striking his unhelmeted head hard and splitting the skull in two.

The Chaos Champion fell to the ground with a thud, his once shining armour rapidly beginning to decay and shrink, while the executioner's blade slipped from his twisted body and fell into the mud.

Tularis picked up the slasher and held the familiar weight in his hand again. He turned around and looked coldly at the remaining six Chaos Warriors. One of them, a barbarian holding a double hammer, rushed towards him with a roar, and the rest of his companions followed closely behind, holding their weapons and shields high, with a desperate and violent momentum.

However, to him, all this was just an ordinary killing, a feast to sacrifice to Kane.

After a fierce and bloody battle, six Chaos Warriors fell one by one, and their blood dyed the mud red.

Tularis stood among the corpses, blood dripping from the edge of his armor into the mud on the ground. His breathing was still steady, like the brief silence after a satisfying hunt.

The executioner in his hand was still extremely sharp, and the blade flashed with a cold light, as if eager for the next kill. The mottled blood on his armor proved the fierce battle he had just experienced, and the only damage was just a slight dent caused by a barbarian holding a giant hammer. This needed to be repaired, but it did not prevent him from continuing to pursue Kane's glory.

As he slowly stepped out of the pile of corpses and walked along the rubble-covered streets, he found that the city in front of him had become strangely quiet. There were no enemies, no battles, only empty streets and deepening darkness, shrouding this city engulfed by war. The air was filled with the smell of blood and fire, and the battle cry that originally belonged to the enemy seemed to have been swallowed up by the shadows, leaving only a silent sense of oppression.

He raised his head, his gaze passed through the ruins and fixed on the towering Tower of Prophecy in the distance.

This tower, a symbol of power and destiny, can be seen in any corner of Gorond, just like in Nagarond, in Clar Karond, and in Har Gansi.

In Har Ganthe, no matter where they were, the tower of Hellebron was always watching over every elf.

The tower is the symbol of Hellebron, the symbol of Khaine's sect, and the place where the queen he has been loyal to all his life is.

He sighed, the cold air turning into a bone-chilling chill in his chest. He knew that he should have been by Hellebron's side, just like he had been doing for thousands of years, guarding her, witnessing her resurrection, and offering new sacrifices for her. Her figure always lingered in his mind, making him restless.

Hellebron's anger was so spectacular that it seemed to burn everything, and her oath of revenge was as shocking as thunder, but at the same time it made Tularis feel deeply sad. Her body was overwhelmed, and her cough was weak. Even though her shaky body was covered with gorgeous robes, it was difficult to hide her weakness when she almost knelt on the ground in front of the enemy.

All this caused Tularis to have complicated emotions. He loved her deeply, but he could not ignore her fragility.

Every time he saw her, he was reminded that she was both powerful and fragile. Her will was as strong as steel, her anger was as fierce as fire, but her body could be easily destroyed by him.

He knew that with a single blow of the severing blade he could end her, destroy the chains that had bound him for thousands of years, and if he so desired, if he only extended his hand, leadership of the entire Cain sect would be his.

But he never did, and he wasn't even entirely sure why he didn't do it. Was it loyalty? Was it awe? Or something more complicated? These questions lingered in his mind, and he never had an answer.

As he was deep in thought, a strange chill suddenly woke him up. His intuition detected danger, as if something was watching him from the shadows. He turned around quickly, raised his executioner's knife, took a defensive stance, and scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes.

However, there was nothing.

There were only endless shadows surging among the rubble, and those shadows seemed to have life, swaying gently with his breathing.

Suddenly, another glimmer of light from the edge flashed by.

He turned around again, and this time, he saw it. In the deep darkness, something was gathering, shadows were flowing like water, swirling and winding like ribbons, gradually forming a human figure.

He did not flinch. He held the executioner's blade tightly, his eyes cold and alert. This power, this breath born from the shadows, made him realize that this would be a powerful and dangerous opponent. But at the same time, his fighting spirit was also ignited. This was the meaning of his loyalty to Kane, facing all challenges and fighting for Kane's glory, no matter where the enemy came from, no matter how powerful the enemy was.

"I don't care who you are or where you come from, but tonight, you will be sacrificed to Cain!" Tularis whispered, his voice full of cold determination. (End of this chapter)