Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

The afternoon sun in Southern Naggaroth shone on the makeshift stands, casting a soft but warlike golden light. Surrounded by shouts, cheers, and sounds echoing from magic loudspeakers, the sounds rolled in the air, as if even the cold wind blowing from the north was applauding this wonderful game.

"Welcome... Welcome... Welcome to Anaheim's first All-Star Friendly Game!"

Daxus, who has been idle recently, has started to work as a commentator again. This is a very good pastime for him. At this moment, he is enthusiastically shaking the magic brass pipe in his hand and giving commentary.

"Today, I, the eternal temporary commentator, will explain to you all this sacred game that will never turn into an all-out war!"

In the center of the court, two teams with completely different styles and explosive auras were facing each other.

Wearing sky blue robes with silver waves embroidered on the corners, the navy team led by Finarfin was a gathering of elites - fifteen starters and eight substitutes, each of whom was famous. Admirals, sea helmets, fleet commanders, admirals... everyone's resume could cover an entire wall of the tower.

On the other side, the aura is completely different.

The army team led by Cowell was all dressed in black armor, and their figures were like blades lurking in the shadows. The team was a mixed group, including Duruchi, Asrai, Ainel, and the special existence of Gilead, and the team members were composed of fear lords of all levels.

The fighting spirit was like a gust of wind, making the flags on the sidelines flutter.

The temporary stands were filled with big names, including Naggaroth politicians, red dragons, navy, army and Asur navy leaders.

Malekith sat comfortably in the high seat, next to him were Newkel who was out of his body and Serene who looked as if nothing had happened. Malok stood up, waved his arms and cheered, Aislin was talking in a low voice to Dulias beside him, and in the other seats were either sailors from the Asur fleet or veterans of Druch. This was a battle of glory and also an "unpredictable" carnival.

Unlike Ulthuan, Anaheim is peaceful. The navy has nothing to do except daily patrols and training. Patrolling is necessary to prevent reconnaissance from Ulthuan from approaching Anaheim and cooperating with Finnubar. Otherwise...

All the engineering projects were taken over by the army, and the navy had nothing to do with it.

Moreover, this period coincides with the long-lasting winter festivals.

We definitely can't just stare at each other when we have nothing to do. Daxus has no plans for joint training or flag signal sharing. It's not time yet. In that case...

So let's have a competition, a team-building activity to break the ice, the same old Chapeutau holiday routine, but this time the main focus is Blood Bowl rugby. It started with an internal competition among the followers of Matheran, Duruchi against Azul, generals competition, officers competition, sailors competition, several times a day.

Initially, Asul was completely crushed. They had to play games during the day and summarize tactics at night. After this period of time, the intensity increased and the two teams became evenly matched.

After seeing that the situation was almost the same, Daxus made adjustments and mixed Duruchi and Asur into one team. The mixed team played against the mixed team, like an undulating wave line. The game became difficult to watch again, but it only lasted for a short while. After all, no one wanted to keep losing.

After waiting for a while, the match between the Navy and the Army began...

At this time, the captain on the field also began to "say hello".

Cowell walked forward slowly, opened his arms, and slowly turned his body, letting the audience's cheers gather on him, as if accepting a blessing before the battle. Then, he suddenly stepped forward with his left foot, leaned forward, sneered, and made a throat-cutting gesture to Finarfin, his eyes full of provocation and murderous desire.

Finarfin was unmoved. He calmly adjusted his shoulder armor, then took a wrong step, spun lightly, raised his left arm high, and made an elegant but provocative elbow strike, as if to say: "Come on, I will crush you with elegance."

"Ohhhh! Look! Look what happened!"

Daxus's exaggerated tone once again shook the entire audience.

"Our two captains have already started a psychological warfare before they even touched the ball! Kewell's swing was a hint of a throat cut; while Finarfin responded with a "please enjoy my elegant elbow". Audiences, friends, this is a real cultural clash!"

The officers, politicians, and believers in the stands either laughed or shook their heads helplessly. Whenever Dacus sat in the commentary booth, he seemed like a different person.

"Alright, everyone, the game is about to... begin!"

As the last sentence fell, the air seemed to stop for half a second.

The next moment - the whistle sounded and the game began.

The two sides rushed out like arrows, the dust on the field was thrown up, and the sunlight refracted brilliantly in the dust.

The first to rush out was the left wing of the Army team. Buckron, with a tattoo on his forehead and muscular body, ran like a black panther and knocked Yelian away with his shoulder. The latter drew an elegant parabola in the air, comparable to the art of flying.

"Oh! A violent collision!"

After falling to the ground, Yelian rolled around, cursed angrily, and then immediately got up from the ground, his eyes fixed on the rampaging Bakron.

On the other side, the Navy team launched a counterattack from the right wing. Estheris Pale flipped in the air and jumped up, snatched the ball nimbly, kicked it with his toes, and passed the ball accurately to Finarfin in the midfield.

"Finafin has the ball!! He's... he's... beautifully! Aaaaaaah! He actually dodged the lunge from Chintala."

On the field, Finarfin was like a shadow in the moonlight, avoiding opponents who tried to steal the ball three times in a row and was preparing to launch a counterattack.

"boom!!"

Cowell pounced on Finarfin like a black lightning, knocking him off balance and causing the ball to instantly slip out of his hands and bounce high!

There were cheers all around, and the entire stadium was shaking as if it was exploding. More than a dozen players rushed towards the ball at the same time.

The football bounced high and rolled in the air, reflecting the sunlight like a comet about to fall to the ground.

At that moment, time seemed to be stretched.

More than a dozen figures rose into the air, like apostles sent down by the gods of their respective faiths, some roaring, some silent, some falling like heavy rain, some passing like streams of light, all rushing towards the sphere.

"This scene... ah! It's like a cavalry clash! A ship collision!" Daxus was so excited that he almost jumped up from the commentary booth. "Dear audience, this is not a competition, this is the elves' epic... art!"

The first person to touch the ball in the air was Karadoria from the Navy team. Relying on her experience, she took the lead and slapped the ball, but the ball was deflected by Gilead from the Army team's elbow!
The ball fell like a meteor and hit the center of the field.

"The ball has fallen to the ground! The ball has fallen to the ground! Look! Look who picked up the ball... Who is this?!" Daxus' voice suddenly became louder, "It's actually... Imlarion! His speed is not inferior to that of a giant eagle!"

Imlarion crouched like a leopard, sprinting forward with his arms protecting the ball, and three defenders from the Army team immediately rushed over. He did not retreat, did not dodge, but only had one move - break through!
boom!
Imlarion collided head-on with Thun. His impact force was like a dragon boat running at full speed, pushing the opponent's feet off the ground and leaving a two-meter-long skid mark!

"Ouch! What is this? A surge breaking front!"

How could the Army team suffer a loss? The two people nearby immediately rushed over to hug Imlarion from the waist, dragging him and the ball to the ground.

Boom!

While rolling, the ball slipped out of his hands again and bounced high!

"It slipped away again! This ball seems to have a life today, it goes wherever it wants!"

Hearing this, Malekith shook his head speechlessly, while the spectators next to him burst into laughter.

This time, it was Cowell who pounced.

His whole body was like a black storm. After landing with the ball, he immediately rushed forward, his legs running like wheels. Two interceptors of the Navy team rushed over, but they couldn't even touch his shadow.

In the stands, Malekith nodded slightly, and Newcker beside him also showed a rare expression of approval.

As Cowell was approaching the end zone, he suddenly heard a sound of breaking air behind him and a blue shadow came at him at an incredible angle.

"Oh my, oh my, who is this...Yelian?!!!"

Yelian's speed was as fast as a storm arc. He cut in from the side and back, and made a neat hug and throw, instantly knocking Cowell to the ground with the ball!
The ball slipped out of Finarfin's hands again and was kicked to the side.

The whole audience burst into applause and cheers.

The referee on the sidelines quickly raised the flag - the ball was not out of bounds, the game continued!

Finarfin picked up the ball and made a quick tactical gesture.

"The Navy team launched a tactic I call 'Moon Tide Ring'!" After seeing Finarfin's gesture, Daxus waved the loudspeaker frantically.

This is the navy team's killer move and the embodiment of the elven navy's tactics.

Several members of the Asul and Drucci teams seemed to have practiced this a hundred times. They quickly spread out, intertwined, and advanced, using the encirclement tactics of naval combat to form a coordinated breakout. In just a few seconds, the navy team had rushed into the army team's defense line.

"Touchdown successful! Navy team! First touchdown!!!"

The entire stands were boiling in an instant, flags were waving, and fireworks shot up into the sky.

Finarfin climbed up, holding the sphere in his hand, smiling gracefully, then turned and saluted slightly towards the stands.

In the distance, Cowell, who was lying on the ground, sat up, licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, and a sinister smile appeared on his face.

"Interesting..." he whispered.

Just as the referee blew the whistle to restart the game and the audience cheered, at the other end of the field, Arslan Silver Star was descending from the sky.

The sharp claws of the griffin he rode spread out its golden wings, like a holy meteor, cutting through the clouds in the sky. And in front of him, a disgusting scene gradually emerged.

That wasn't a fleet - that was a junkyard incarnate.

On the boundless sea, there were broken wooden boats and abandoned hulls floating. They were rusty and blackened, and many of them didn't even have masts. They were made of only hemp ropes and crudely made wooden boards. They looked like monster ships patched by corpses, groaning in the wind and waves. Scarlet or dirty green skulls, teeth, hammers, fists and other symbols were painted on the tattered sails, like a child's proud work of graffiti with paint.

These ships had no queues, no formations, no command, and at first glance, they looked like a group of madmen drifting on floating boards, but what shocked Arsalan was that this garbage dump was steadily approaching Ulthuan.

He frowned, tightened the reins with both hands, retracted the claws of Sharp Claws, and continued to sink in a sharp arc.

The closer he got, the clearer he could see that these were not just a few ships, but a green fleet that spanned the sea and obscured the horizon. There were at least thousands of ships, large and small, densely stacked, colliding, entangled, burning, and damaged, yet they stubbornly "sailed" in the waves. They relied not on technology, not magic, and certainly not on navigation knowledge, but...

"I wonder?" he murmured, his eyes filled with deep suspicion and shock, speaking in the Elsalin language, which sounded like a joke and was extremely unfamiliar to him.

Before the War of Vengeance, when the elves were still active in Ersin Arwen, they had fought many battles with greenskins. At that time, the forests were filled with either greenskins or beastmen. The elves had studied greenskins, and Arsalan, who had inherited the family tradition, naturally knew about them.

Every ship was packed with greenskins, some sitting, some standing, stacked like ants, some fighting, some dancing, and some even stuffing bloody meat and bent battle axes into the fire?

This was not a bonfire party, but the daily life of the greenskins. They shouted, waved, and made a lot of noise, and even the sea breeze seemed to be polluted by their brute force, with a hint of rust and smoke.

The sea breeze blew again, and a "big ship" taller than the other shabby ships entered Arsalan's sight. He looked closely and saw a huge white bone stuck diagonally on the bow. It was an upside-down ogre leg bone, with muscles and flesh still remaining in the cracks, being gnawed by a few goblins.

What's even more outrageous is that the ship has no sails, no wind rudders, and not even green people rowing the oars, but it still moves forward in a stable but unreasonable manner.

Under the white bone, circles of greenskins jumped and danced around it, beating drums and clapping their heads, some even banging their heads against the deck, making a rhythm similar to a beat.

"Qifengwu?" Arsalan's pupils shrank slightly.

How else to explain that this unpowered, sailless ship was actually somehow heading towards Ulthuan?

Ocean current? Arslan, a follower of Matheran, doesn't think so.

When he first heard that a fleet of greenskins was coming across the sea from Elshin Arwen, he was skeptical. This was too absurd. Ulthuan had been invaded by Druki and Men before. But it had never been invaded by greenskins. Never. This was impossible. Greenskins were not good at sailing, did not understand the currents, and could not form a fleet.

But the person who brought the news was so special that...

Now, he saw it with his own eyes.

An illogical reality, a harbinger of disaster that could not be explained by reason, spread out before our eyes like a garbage dump.

"They... really have sailed here," he whispered, his eyes slanting over the fleet floating on the sea with rotten sails and rust, a complex coldness in his eyes, "and they are not drifting... they are actively and in large numbers, heading towards Ulthuan."

Sharp Claw sensed his companion's emotions and let out a low, alert cry, like a blade scraping across a copper plate, with a sense of murderous intent that he was about to attack. He suddenly spread his wings, stopped descending, and turned to horizontal gliding.

Afterwards, Arsalan gave up observing the sea and turned to search the sky around him. He was looking for the four scattered sky-slashing ships. He was now in the center of the entire formation, responsible for reconnaissance and assembly.

If his judgment was correct, the four Sky Slashers should have discovered this monster fleet composed of rags and madness. After all, they had just set out and the formation had not yet been opened. More importantly... the scale of this greenskin fleet was too large and too dense. He was confident, but he was not reckless.

This is why Finnubar kept him and sent him again.

Target confirmed: The Greenskin Fleet really exists.

Next, it is close reconnaissance.

But he didn't rush in without thinking. That wasn't his style. Even if he was discovered, he would investigate under the cover of the Heaven-Slaying Ship, instead of going deep into the sea alone and shedding blood. There were too many such tragedies in the past. He was constantly taught this when he first started flying.

Time passed, and the faint light jumped between the waves and the shadows of the ships.

Finally, on his left wing, a silver-blue shadow passed through the high-altitude clouds. It was the nearest Sky-Slayer, which had already approached his position. Then, on his right, a second Sky-Slayer appeared at the edge of the sky, slowly falling like a snow-white meteor.

When Sharp Claw descended to a height close to a vertical dive, the remaining two Sky-Severing Ships also appeared at the end of his field of vision, like silver blades deployed in the sky, calm, sharp, and silent.

The formation converged.

There are no flag signals.

no signal.

There was no shouting.

There is only silence, cooperation, trust, and the determination to succeed.

"Now." Arsalan's eyes were cold and he whispered in a low voice.

Below, the greenskins finally noticed the shadow tearing through the sky.

Hundreds of heads on thick necks suddenly raised up at almost the same time, as if their hair was pulled by an invisible giant hand. They stared with yellow-green eyes wide open, and uttered hoarse, chaotic screams and roars. They pointed, bared their fangs, and jumped on tiptoe. Some orcs who reacted faster panicked and waved their iron axes, rusty hammers, and patchwork spears in their hands, while more of them directly pulled the broken bowstrings and shot arrows at the sky.

For a moment, arrows rained down like mad bees, but without any rhyme or effect. It seemed that compared with these orcs, Arsalan and Sharp Claw were of a higher level?
The stone bullets from the catapults drew rough parabolas at low altitude, whistling like falling comets; the thick crossbow arrows thrown from the spears made piercing whistles in mid-air, like the roars of wolves.

Sharp Claws did not dodge.

It was like a flash of silver lightning, suddenly swooping into the storm of arrows and stone bullets, its claws flying, its wings whirling, shuttling through the fingers of the god of death, and every time it passed, it raised a gust of feather wind and a scream.

Arsalan clung to the griffin's back, his figure as swift as an arrow, his breath as cold as ice, and his face extremely calm, as if he had already become a part of the fierce wind.

at this time……

A crooked green shadow suddenly leaped up from the deck of an orc ship with a "whoosh!" and rushed straight towards him with a smell of burnt rags and oil.

It was a flying goblin.

It wore rusty metal goggles, a squeaking propeller device was tied to its head, and behind it were two "bat wings" of different sizes and patches - obviously a flying vehicle made of torn canvas and skeleton.

It bared its fangs and had a sickening grin on its face, and it didn't seem to care at all whether it could come back alive.

Arslan looked into those bloodshot eyes. Elegance and ugliness formed a sharp contrast, and time seemed to freeze at that moment.

"GAH!!!" The goblin let out a sharp, piercing scream at the top of his lungs, like a vulture stepping on a fire nail.

But the next moment, Sharp Claw rolled cleanly and glided past it with Arsalan. The goblin had no time to react, still grinning, and had not yet gotten rid of the fantasy of self-righteous victory. The next second, he smashed into the deck of an orc warship below like a stone.

Boom! !

The deck collapsed, wood fragments flew everywhere, and the goblin was smashed into the bottom deck, leaving a strangely shaped hole.

The warship, which was already in a chaotic structure and was made of scrap iron and trees, suddenly shook violently and almost fell apart. The orcs on the whole ship were in a state of chaos, panicking and screaming, and many even jumped into the sea to escape, like frogs scalded by fire.

"That was probably his first flight..." Arslan was amused. This was too funny. "Well, it was also his last flight."

He then penetrated deeply into the enemy's territory.

Its sharp claws shuttled back and forth like a silver snake breaking through the waves, so fast that only a shadow remained. The chaotic battle line of hundreds of ships stood like a wall under its feet, but was cut through one by one. It was clearly moving among the arrows and stone bullets, but it was at ease, like a ghost in the wind, leaving no trace.

The projection of the Slasher was like a palm of a god, slowly spreading from the sky, covering the sea, the fleet, and the chaos. Whenever Arsalan dived too low and approached the edge of the enemy's firepower, there would always be a cold light from the ship piercing down, clearing obstacles for him and opening up a way out.

This is the ultimate in tactical coordination.

Behind him, a flying goblin, almost exploding with anger, was chasing after him.

It was staggering, its face full of anger, flapping its bat wings to accelerate desperately. After just a few seconds of chasing, its sharp claws suddenly increased its flying angle and leaped up.

Under inertia, the goblin failed to stop and continued to fly forward, just in time...

boom!
He bumped into another flying goblin that was coming from the opposite direction.

The two unlucky guys collided with each other with a bang, and immediately their hands and feet started flailing, shouting and cursing, and they rolled down.

They didn't fall far away, right onto a trebuchet that had just been loaded and was about to be fired.

"Huh?"

The orc slinger below looked at the airborne ammunition in confusion, and before he could react, he pulled the launching lever out of habit.

"Wow ah ah ah ah!!"

Screams pierced the sky. The two goblins rolled together and drew a beautiful parabola in the air, spinning and screaming, and then...

Pfft! !

With a dull thud, two goblin shells hit the side of a slightly larger warship, creating a huge gap in the already loosely assembled hull, and water poured in like a snake.

The battleship tilted to the left, the wooden planks cracked, the greenskins screamed, and chaos arose again.

A few seconds later, amid the noise of curses and screams, the warship finally lost its balance, and like a wounded wild boar, it turned over and over, splashing a large amount of muddy waves.

The wings of the sharp claws stirred up a strong wind, and every dive was like a knife cutting through the garbage torrent composed of rust and oil. It roared and flew between the fire and the rain of arrows, like a silver shadow cutting through the dark clouds, and pierced the enemy formation almost recklessly under the cover of the firepower of the Sky Slasher.

It sometimes dives, sometimes rolls, and sometimes glides rapidly between ships. Its nimble figure seems to be performing a deadly dance in the air, teasing the enemy, disrupting the rhythm, and stirring the nerves of the entire battlefield.

The greenskin fleet was stirred up by him like boiling water in an oil pan.

The already chaotic formation completely collapsed under the repeated attacks of Sharp Claws. Amid the continuous explosions, scenes of accidental bombings, accidental injuries, self-mutilation, and fights between friendly forces were heard everywhere.

All this did not seem like a battle, but more like a completely unbridled circus performance. It was as if this fleet was not born for conquest, but for self-destruction, for the amusement of the audience, or even... for becoming a historical joke.

But Arsalan's eyes were still as cold as a knife.

He was not deceived by these absurd images, for he knew that no matter how ridiculous they looked, the fleet was still moving forward, their ships were real, their numbers were overwhelming, and they were slowly but irreversibly moving towards the coastline of Ulthuan.

Be it a joke or a disaster...all of this will eventually become a real threat.

"That's enough." Arsalan whispered, his voice cut by the wind, sounding like an order and a whisper.

Sharp Claw then let out a steady cry, as if it understood its master's intention. It adjusted its posture, spread its wings, the wind whistled through its feathers, turned around and climbed up, rushing into the sky.

He has completed his mission.

He confirmed the existence of the enemy, determined the size, direction, and composition of the fleet, and even forcibly penetrated the deepest part to try to explore its command center. Although he failed to find a clear flagship target, it is very likely that the enemy has no concept of flagship at all, or that the "flagship" is hidden very deep, or... it is constantly changing positions in this army to avoid being beheaded.

But it doesn't matter anymore, this is the sea, not land.

"time to go."

however……

"Roar!!!"

A thunderous roar, as if rising from the depths of the sea, shattered the waves like a tsunami, and exploded from the chaotic core of the greenskin fleet!
With a thunderous roar, a huge monster tore through the thick fog and soared into the sky - it was a pterosaur.

Its scales were covered with rough iron plates and broken armor pieces, its neck was wrapped in chains, and it even had a half-sail wreckage dragging on its back, like a corpse crawling out of a sunken ship. White smoke was coming out of its back, and hot steam was spewing from its mouth and nose. Its pair of orange-red vertical pupils were fixed on Arsalan and Sharp Claw in the air, and its eyes were full of savagery, hatred, and the desire for destruction.

"So you can fly too. Let's learn how to use it." Arsalan sneered, clenched his fingers, and moved his body closer to Sharp Claw's back.

On the back of the flying dragon, an orc warrior covered in heavy iron armor stood up with a roar, waving a huge battle axe, cursing at them loudly, spitting, with excitement and bloodthirstiness in his voice.

Driven by him, the flying dragon spread its wings, flapped the air violently, like two huge sails, and dived towards Sharp Claw and Arsalan!

Sharp Claws immediately dodged by rolling sideways, and its silver feathers were as sharp as needles, brushing past the flying dragon in an instant.

Sharp claws scraped against sharp claws, wings cut the air, sparks and feather fragments flew, and the sound of metal hitting scales echoed like thunder, and the loud noises seemed to tear the sky apart.

The flying dragon roared, pounced, and rolled, its sharp teeth coming close several times, almost biting into Sharp Claw's throat. But each time, Sharp Claw dodged it with extraordinary aerial skills, like a flash of lightning, breaking through the air.

Arsalan did not even glance at the madly roaring orc warrior. Instead, he calmly observed every rhythm of the dragon's pounce, the inertia of each swing of its tail, and the airflow generated by each flap of its wings. He was as calm as a hunter, with only calculation, analysis, and murderous intent in his eyes.

After several close combats, the dragon's body was covered with several deep feather blade scratches that could be seen to the bone. Those were the scars caused by the sharp claws and feathers in close combat. Blood mixed with metal fragments fell like rain, smashing into the sea surface and causing bursts of steam.

Arsalan raised his head, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. Through the gaps between the flying dragon's wings, he accurately caught a ray of cold light in the distance - that was the silver light reflected by the Eagle Claw Crossbow on the bow of the Western Slashing Sky Ship. The cold crossbow arrow was already strung up, like a sleeping beast about to awaken, accumulating the power to destroy everything, waiting for the moment of a fatal blow.

It was a sign of death, a silent promise of a silver light cutting through the sky.

"Now!" There was a gleam in Arsalan's eyes, and he growled, his voice not loud but revealing unquestionable decisiveness.

Sharp Claw seemed to sense something, and it flapped its wings and dived, swinging its body to lead the violent dragon to the west, right into the best shooting range of the Eagle Claw crossbow.

With the trembling roar of the Sky Slayer, the Eagle Claw Crossbow suddenly opened fire. A giant silver-white crossbow arrow shot up into the sky like thunder breaking through the clouds, drawing a perfect arc of light, whistling through the sky, and accurately piercing the root of the right wing of the flying dragon.

The silver light tore through the air, piercing through flesh and armor!

The dragon let out a deafening wail, its roar filled with pain and anger, its entire body tumbling violently in the air. It lost its balance, its frantically dancing wings could no longer keep it flying, its huge body fell from the sky like a meteorite, and slammed heavily into the greenskin fleet below.

The orc warrior on his back was thrown out by the impact. He rolled in the air and screamed, like an uncontrollable living cannonball, and slammed into the sea with a bang, stirring up a wave that would definitely flop him in a diving competition. His battle axe, armor, roar... were all buried in the cold sea water, leaving no foam behind.

As the dragon fell, its heavy tail, like a hammer, lashed around unconsciously, and suddenly hooked and broke the main mast of a damaged greenskin warship. The mast broke like a broken bone, and when it fell, it knocked over a whole row of panicked archers, instantly triggering a series of wailing and chaos. Several goblins were thrown into the burning kerosene pile, causing a series of explosions and screams.

However, Arslan did not look back to confirm this.

He does not need it.

The sharp claws and wings spread out, and suddenly pulled up, carrying Arsalan like a feather arrow piercing through the clouds and soaring into the sky. As the altitude increased rapidly, the noise, roar and explosions on the sea surface were gradually left behind, leaving only the whistling wind and the silence of the sky.

At the same time, the Sky Slayer fleet also began to turn slowly. The four warships shining with silver light turned around quietly and headed for the clouds in the southwest direction like divine weapons that cut through the sea fog. Their hulls gradually merged into the rolling sea of ​​clouds, their silver wings converged, the lights on the decks turned off, and finally they became invisible in the sky, disappearing over this area of ​​water occupied by garbage and madness.

Only the orc fleet on the sea was still moving slowly forward in chaos, with broken ships, drifting flames, noisy quarrels, occasional explosions... all of this formed an almost absurd war puzzle.

Arslan knew - this was not the end, but the beginning.

At the same time, in the northeast of this sea, something happened that was worthy of being recorded in the annals of Bretonnia and the Sigmar Empire. (End of this chapter)