Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

What this world lacks the most is monsters, demons and strange creatures.

As the shadow of the End fell, Alaros led his army deep into Sylvania, attempting to form an alliance with Eltharion's legions.

Manfred sensed the movement of the elven army, but did not send a large army of the dead to stop them. He only sent out a terrifying existence - the "Queen of Sorrow" Kaledya.

She is not a mortal, nor is she simply a ghost. She is the mistress of dreams and nightmares, the shadow that lurks at the edge of vision and whispers in the heart before it is noticed. Since the time of Emperor Sigismund, her existence has been attached to the world like a curse, witnessing the rise and fall of empires, the fall of nations, and the demise of heroes - and has never left.

Manfred had sent her here for a simple reason: she needed no steel, no legions, her weapon was fear itself.

After Kaledea's arrival, the shadows of the forest grew thicker, and blood-thirsty ghosts lingered around the Asrai army, wandering in the darkest hours of the night, whispering, tempting, dividing, and tearing wills.

Those rangers who were assigned to patrol the forests, who were supposed to be most familiar with the paths in the forest, never returned. Or, at dawn the next day, they were found as bloodless corpses, scattered among the thorns, with their eyes wide open and blood flowing from the corners of their mouths, as if they were screaming to death in their dreams.

Under the firelight of the camp, the eyes of the Asrai were dazed. They seldom fell asleep, but could only close their eyes and rest for a while, because they knew that once they fell into a dream, they might fall into the bottomless abyss. In the dream, Kaledya would appear quietly, her cold and slender fingers would penetrate their consciousness and tightly grasp their souls. Many people could never wake up from the dream, and their souls were cruelly pulled out of their bodies by her and taken back to her palace made of despair.

The only exception is Alaros.

He was immune to the demon's terror, and his mind was clear, and Kaledea could not find any room in his heart. As the situation intensified, he was convinced that the suffering and chaos of his kin were caused and led by the wailing ghosts. He ordered his spellsingers to try to capture one of the spirits and track down the master from whom it came.

But this road is far more difficult and dangerous than imagined.

Because, in the army of Alaros, no wizard had ever truly set foot on the path of dark magic, and those who had set foot on it were not in the army. Now, in order to fight against Kaledea, they must risk losing their sanity and falling into madness, and step into this abyss that they have never been to before.

The spellcasters tried one after another and fell one after another. Three wizards died on the spot during the ritual, their souls were drained away into dust-like residues, and many more went mad with fear, their eyes forever fixed on nothingness, and they kept muttering "She's looking at me" at the corners of their mouths.

Until the seventh - he made it through.

During a ritual, he barely managed to stay awake and saw the invisible force that bound the captive souls - a will that twisted like a vine.

The truth is revealed.

And then no more.

Alaros launched an assault on the banshee's lair, a crumbling tower deep in the ghoul forest, and the remaining spellsingers drove back Kaledea and her group of ghosts.

But existence like Kaledea is not an isolated case.

In the era of the Three Emperors, another legendary terror emerged - a witch named Caitlin who had threatened the border security of Ostland several times. When the witch hunters approached step by step, she did not fight, but fled. She used forbidden magic to bewitch a captain and took her to the distant Lustria.

She said that in a dream, Harkon appeared to her, held out his hand to her, and promised to grant her the dark power of refuge and eternal life.

The journey was long, with storms blowing everywhere, broken sails and masts, and sailors dying of illness one after another. There was little food and water left. But no one dared to question her because her eyes were like dead water.

Finally, when the ship arrived at the Vampire Coast, Caitlin once again demonstrated her "piety" - she killed the captain and all the crew members with her own hands, and used their flesh and blood as a toll for passing through the Sargasso seaweed.

Caitlyn was brought before Luther Harken. She abandoned her pride and self-esteem. She offered her strength and was willing to be loyal to Harken. In exchange, she only asked for shelter, a fortress, and a shadow corner where she could stand on this continent.

Luther listened in silence. When his bored, emotionless gaze fell on her, she felt her limbs stiffen, as if all her movements were instantly blocked by some ancient curse. She wanted to open her mouth to protest, but she was deprived of even the right to scream.

She was dragged away, lifted up by Luther's zombie sailors, and pulled up to the high city wall like a useless corpse. The moonlight was like blood, the sea wind was howling, and when Luther chanted an ancient and strange spell with his shriveled lips, she was thrown into the depths of the sea.

The waves are rolling and the cold is biting.

In the last moment when she was drowning and her consciousness was blurred, a twisted darkness forcibly invaded her soul, tearing her body and will apart and reshaping her. On the border between death and rebirth, she was transformed into a siren.

However, she did not completely lose herself.

Unlike most sirens, Caitlyn retained some consciousness and much of her power in this new body. Her hatred grew stronger than ever, and she fled into the misty depths of the sargassum, attacking supply ships, luring sailors, and casting spells to disrupt the tides, each time narrowly escaping the vampire's wrath.

She is like a curse that wanders between reality and illusion, which cannot be completely eliminated, but always brings destruction and gloom.

After losing several warships and hundreds of servants, Luther finally let go of his remaining arrogance and proposed a deal to his former sacrifice - no longer a slave, but an ally.

As a fulfillment of his promise of "protection", Caitlin will hunt lost ships, capture sailors, expand the fleet, and retain the power of "experiments" and "rewards". She herself will obtain the identity of "Lady of Saltwater", a domain of her own.

Then, from the Broken Cape in eastern Lustria, a Brine Lady appeared, watching for passing ships by watching the fetid liquid bubbling in her cauldron, and singing to any prey that approached.

Wise captains risked their lives by sailing farther out to sea to avoid the song of the Saltwater Lady, but some foolish ones blindly believed that speed could save them, and as a result they were caught in the current and drifted near Cape Broken.

Those ships that were still useful were transformed by her and added to Luther's fleet, while other damaged wreckages were scattered between coral reefs and stone embankments, becoming eternal tombstones. The crew members were either given to Luther to become part of the Undead Legion, or she used them for magic experiments.

However, just as all curses have their end, her end had already been written.

Her fate was also very simple. When the Lizardmen besieged Luther, she was the first to suffer unlucky fate, because the strategy at that time was to launch a strategic encirclement from north to south, and her lair happened to be at the northernmost end.

There was no fight, no screams or death struggles.

Master Hua remotely dispatched a lizard priest, and with one slap, he smashed the former witch, her island, her nest, her cauldron, and her vengeful spirits into pieces - both her body and soul were destroyed.

When Daxus was walking through the Dragon Forest, he had seen the beast elemental incarnation. But the monster did not pounce on him, it just stood in the distance, its eyes as deep as a cave. After seeing the huge elf team, it turned around and left, disappearing into the forest without even giving him a chance.

The elemental incarnation is not afraid of the number of troops. The forest is its territory and its kingdom.

What really scares it are the spellcasters in the team - they can use magic to sever its connection with nature, "disintegrate" its huge entity, and decompose it into the wind of Gur.

And this is the only death it cannot bear.

Also, in the Dragon Forest, Daxus saw a living lead bull in the dwarf's forging workshop. In essence, the living lead bull and the beast elemental incarnation belong to the same kind of creature, but the carrier is different.

Under the influence of the wind of piety, the gentle-looking golden lead bull turned into an angry golden minotaur.

And then no more.

The spellcasters transformed the Wind of the Gate of Piety into Deha, which was peeled off from the Minotaur's body. Without support, the Minotaur turned into a statue again, and then fell to the ground with a bang, breaking into pieces.

If there was no spellcaster at that time, Daxus would have only one choice - run.

Not retreating, not evading, not luring the enemy deep into our territory - instead, we turned around and ran, fleeing the scene and leaving the forging workshop without hesitation.

When facing spiritual enemies such as banshees, sirens, and stone cairn spirits, the kitchen knife team still has a chance to fight by applying oil, temporary enchantments, or carrying magic weapons. But when the target is an elemental incarnation, a hybrid of nature and magic, all strategies, skills, and formations are meaningless.

Even looking at it for one more second is disrespectful to it.

Fighting an elemental incarnation in close combat is like trying to swing a weapon to cut through flames in boiling magma. It's not a fight, it's a fight against the laws of nature itself. The only correct way to deal with it is: don't hesitate, turn around and run, the faster the better.

The greenskin fleet now is like a group of wild boars that have broken into a hunting ground, not knowing whether they are alive or dead.

Only this time, they mistakenly entered not a forest, but a raging ocean.

And this sea area is already alive.

There is no way back and no way to escape.

They have become meat on the chopping board.

Kallion exhaled slowly, his movements were extremely restrained and steady, and he was regulating his breathing rate. Then, he gently put the holographic vision mask on his face. With a crisp click, the mask's embedded system was instantly activated, and a circle of light flashed on the inside of the mask.

His vision changed drastically in an instant.

He was no longer in the sky, but was looking down at the entire sea through a thin but high-resolution water screen projection, staring at the struggles of all living things like a god. He slowly raised the "distance" parameter, and the picture moved forward - the fleet that was originally as blurry as a mosquito in the distance, now even the wooden nails and scratches on the deck were clearly visible.

Then, the sea moved.

No, it's the sea that's alive.

At first, it was just a slight tremor like a dream, as if somewhere in the deep sea was gently turning over. Then, a large area of ​​water suddenly swelled up, like a giant beast crashing heavily under the seabed, causing huge waves on the entire sea surface.

Then, they appeared.

Countless water columns rose from the ground, piercing the sky like long spears, bringing with them roaring sounds and salty winds, then spinning, twisting, and converging in the air, transforming into giant translucent, gel-like figures.

The first one to take shape was nearly twenty meters tall, surrounded by turbulence and roaring. As soon as it appeared, it swung its giant arm made of waves and smashed down with the wrath of the sea god.

boom! !

An old warship full of greenskins was blown away almost instantly, thrown into the air like a rag toy, and the greenskins on the deck rolled out screaming. Then, the ship, along with all the lives, crashed into the sea in an extremely undignified manner, exploding into waves more than ten meters high, with broken wood and blood splashing like rain.

"Hit!" Kallion said calmly.

It was like test firing at a testing range, rather than witnessing a bloody massacre.

The ocean responded, and the rest of the sea elements also began to act.

Some of them turned into violent water tornadoes, carrying tremendous force and swirling around in the fleet; others dived into the seabed, stirring up sharp water columns like spears right below the ship, piercing through the bottom cabin and splitting the entire ship in half; even worse, their entire bodies directly turned into mad dog waves, dragging the entire ship into the abyss.

This is a natural massacre, without a trace of emotion.

The elemental incarnations rushed and ran wildly on the sea. They are the rage of the sea, the masters of the abyss. Every figure made up of water is as fierce as an active volcano, but without temperature, only a coldness that devours everything.

The ship broke apart, the greenskins scattered, and the screams and curses were swallowed up by the waves one by one.

The green orcs did not give up at first. As usual, they chose the most primitive way to respond to the enemy.

They roared, wielding bone axes and clubs to smash at the condensed sea elements, and some threw the harpoons used for fishing as if they were javelins. The weapons pierced into the elemental bodies with a "thump", causing a few waves, but there was no trace of blood and no reaction.

That was not solid flesh, but a blue phantom formed by anger and magic.

Every attack was like using a wooden stick to poke a dream - there was no echo, no feedback, only a "nudity" that made the orcs even more desperate.

The arrow shot out from the broken bow, passed through the air, and pierced into the body of the sea element while trembling in the wind, but it did not even stir up a ripple, as if it was swallowed by a cloud; the crudely made crossbow was also pushed onto the deck, and it was fired with a "click" amid the panicked shouts of the operator. The thick metal crossbow arrow cut through the sea breeze and rushed straight towards one of the elemental incarnations with heavy kinetic energy.

But the result is still sad.

Before the crossbow arrow even touched the target, it was absorbed by the opponent's body structure that was like a liquid shield wall, and then bounced back into the sea, leaving only a faint, almost inaudible "puff" sound, like a drop of rain hitting the water.

As for the attacked sea element, it did not roar, did not react, and did not even look back. It seemed that it did not care to interact with the enemy at all. It just kept advancing, using a slow but unstoppable rhythm of destruction.

Its attack method is completely unskillful, yet it possesses the most primitive and pure violence.

It just crashed into a larger green warship.

The entire 20-meter-high body of water slid across the sea in a way that defied physics, so fast that it seemed like it would hit the shore in the next second. At the moment of its impact, a ring of water exploded on the sea surface, and with a thunderous sound, the middle section of the ship was directly torn in half.

The wooden planks flew everywhere like broken branches, the debris swirled and rolled in the air, and dozens of orcs were blown away on the spot. They were still screaming, cursing, and waving their arms in the air, as if they had not yet realized the coming of death, but the next second, they were swallowed up by the raging waves gushing out of the breach, without even an echo.

On the other side, a larger sea elemental was causing an even more violent storm between the fleets. It was formed by countless whirlpools and tides, and its body itself was a high-speed rotating vortex of disaster. It shuttled back and forth between the greenskin fleets, and wherever it passed, like a hurricane, everything was reduced to ruins.

In front of it was the fleet and behind it was the wreckage.

Every channel it passed through was like a cut-out waterway of death; greenskins, wooden boards, ships, crossbows, and shouts were all swept into its surging body, and finally turned into floating foam and sinking corpses behind it.

Terror finally completely overwhelmed the orcs' anger.

The greenskins began to retreat, or more accurately, began to flee, but this was at sea.

In panic, they jumped off the stern, trying to swim away from this "Sea of ​​Death", but the next moment they discovered that the sea water was not a passive medium, but a conscious judge.

The sea that should have caught them surged and twisted like a living thing, dragging them directly into the water. Some were thrown back onto the deck, while others were dragged into the deep sea as if by invisible giant hands. Drowning, struggling, screaming and grunting mixed into a desperate lament that echoed over the ocean.

To the orcs who came from the land, the ocean was a mysterious and vast territory, but now, it is no longer nature - it is God, it has will, anger, and judgment.

The shamans also tried to fight back. Several shamans wearing bone ornaments and feather cloaks jumped on the deck with their staffs raised high, chanting incoherent spells in an attempt to fight against it all. But before they could finish their chanting, the sea elemental's attention had been locked on them.

Two water whips suddenly shot out from the sea, piercing through the wind and rain like lightning. The first whip knocked the shaman's staff away, and the second whip sucked them all into the sea element's body cavity.

That scene became a psychological nightmare for the surviving greenskins.

The shamans were like insects sealed in resin, struggling in terror in the translucent water. Their eyes were wide open, their mouths were open but they could not make a sound. They were not killed, they were suppressed, completely suppressed by the will of the entire ocean in a way that transcended language.

Kallion saw all of this clearly, and he stared coldly at the distant view reflected in the mask mirror, his eyes as cold as ice and iron. He watched the surging sea water dancing happily among the fleet.

But this is not a dance. This is a killing.

This is a symphony of destruction performed by the ocean's will. Every wave is a note, and every shipwreck is the climax of the movement.

He has a lot of seniority and has been through life and death with Dacus many times. In Dacus' circle, his seniority is ranked first along with Flanes and Alyssa of the Takaia family.

Ryan? He missed one time, the time with Lauren, he didn't go.

Having a long career means that Kaleen has seen a lot. He has seen not only the great demons under the dark gods, but also other strange creatures.

But the scenes before him made him feel an uncontrollable excitement in his heart as if his cognition had been completely refreshed.

This battle, no, this massacre, was not confrontational at all.

He knew that this was a battle that was doomed to have no solution. This kind of entity was not simply a body of water, but an elemental incarnation drawn by the will of a powerful spellcaster. In a sense, it was a projection of the wind of magic.

Physical attacks have no effect on these elemental incarnations and are equivalent to being ineffective.

The only way to destroy them is to counter them with an equal amount of energy, using spells of the same level to disintegrate, expel, or seal them. In short, only spellcasters can truly fight against them.

But that's exactly the problem.

Are there such beings in this greenskin fleet, the demigods and legendary spellcasters who can compete with them?

He knew the answer very well: no, and even if there were, it would be one, two, not a group.

And even if there is, what can we do?
As he was thinking, a deafening roar came from the distance.

Three elemental incarnations were besieging a giant green-skinned warship, a behemoth with three decks. It was supposed to be one of the main forces of the entire fleet and could be called a mobile fortress.

But now, it is just prey to be slaughtered.

Three towering sea elements like sea crystal sculptures surrounded it. Their arms spun in the air and quickly transformed into spiral tidal drills, which drilled deep into the ship with terrifying torque and tearing force.

Alright...

A teeth-grinding cracking sound was heard from the middle of the ship, and the backbone of the entire ship was broken. The next second, the giant ship burst like a squeezed wine bag.

What gushed out from the gap was no longer greenskins, but a torrent of fragments, parts, blood mist and screams. The greenskins who were running, roaring and fighting with axes raised on the deck were now pieces of limbs, rolling randomly in the air and scattered without dignity like rags in the wind.

On the other side, an even more astonishing wave rose quietly.

That was not an ordinary wave, but a "tidal hammer" raised by the combined efforts of several sea elements. It gathered and formed in just a few breaths, so high that it seemed to overturn the sky. It was like a moving wall of water, or like a scepter in the hands of a god, hovering silently in the air for a moment, and then suddenly falling!
boom! !

That one blow was enough to shatter any line of defense.

The ships on the flank of the fleet were completely unprepared and unable to react. The huge waves smashed down, and the heavy blow mixed with thousands of tons of sea water was like a mountain pressing down on their heads. The ships assembled from broken wood and iron nails collapsed in an instant - planks flew, masts broke, and flames exploded. Some fragments even flew backwards and embedded themselves into the side of another ship, triggering a chain reaction of explosions and capsizing.

Floating flames suddenly ignited on the sea surface, floating on the water like red lotuses, accompanied by the smell of burning and gunpowder, dyeing the entire battlefield with an eerie apocalyptic red light.

At this moment, a sea element with an extremely unusual shape appeared in the center of the battlefield. It was not as tall and majestic as its other companions, but crouched low, like a twisted water monster, and slowly climbed onto a green-skinned warship that was still fighting.

It did not do so with much fanfare, but in an extremely shady manner.

Its body continued to stretch and split, turning into countless thin and strange water threads, which seeped into the cracks of the ship little by little like tentacles - under the deck, inside the mast, and between the wooden beams of the bottom of the cabin. Every inch of the structure seemed to be "infected" by it.

At first, the greenskins on the ship only noticed something strange, starting with the whispering sound of dripping water, followed by the inaudible groaning and trembling of wood.

They screamed and ran, but it was too late.

In just a few seconds, the entire battleship exploded from the inside, like a living creature with its blood vessels strangled.

No external force, no impact.

A series of dull thumps came from deep within the hull, and then the entire structure seemed to be twisted into a knot, bending, breaking, and decomposing bit by bit. Before the screams could be heard, they were buried in the sea by the exploding debris.

As the ship was destroyed, the sea element slowly gathered back into human form.

It stood quietly on the surging sea, its body made of water, silent and yet extremely dazzling. It looked around, as if admiring its own artwork, and then slid into the water again to look for its next target.

At this moment, the entire greenskin fleet seemed to be fighting with an invisible sea god.

But this fight is not equal.

It is better to say that this is more like a game played by Poseidon on a whim, and they are just a group of ignorant and unfortunate pawns. Fighting is just their fantasy, but the reality is a tragic ending like a child's play.

Perhaps they never thought that there would be a kind of war whose enemy is not on the ship at all, but the entire ocean itself.

The boundless sea, the echo of the wind and waves, and every drop of mist floating in the air are all extensions of hostility. They are projections of will, the most original and cruel manifestation of the wind of magic - this is the wrath of nature itself.

Their fleet, from this moment on, was no longer a fleet.

It is a footnote to a burial at sea.

It is destined to be recorded in the epic of nature as a footnote in the ocean's "cleansing of impurities", without glory, without confrontation, and even without a complete body.

Those ships that once belonged to the greenskins are now nothing more than floating coffins. Flames and debris dance on the sea, like the ultimate requiem for the dead.

This is the will of nature, the ocean purifying itself.

When it decides to take action, it does not need to borrow a knife or a person, because it itself is the weapon.

And those green impurities are now sinking into the silent abyss.

Some were still struggling, while others didn't even have time to finish bubbling before they were swallowed up by the merciless sea and disappeared into thin air.

The sea elements are still wreaking havoc, but the good news is that the scene is no longer monotonous.

New characters have appeared.

But the bad news is that the greenskins are even worse off. This is the beginning of another disaster - they are coming.

When Sesin-Hal and Berg-Shun arrived, they hesitated briefly while circling in the sky, not because they were afraid, but because the battlefield below was too tragic. The once huge and boundless greenskin fleet was now like a pottery jar smashed by a giant hammer, with debris and flames floating everywhere, and the sea elementals were still playing. For a moment, they could not judge which piece of debris to fish out the next "target" to destroy.

But the hesitation was only for a moment.

The next moment, the two forest dragons swooped down like thunder, their huge wings cutting through the air, causing layers of cloud vortexes, and smashing into the wound of the sea like two pale green meteors.

Sesin-Hal rushed to the front, her jaw suddenly opened, and a poisonous breath with a hint of dark green and gold roared out from the depth of her throat, drawing a spiral trajectory in the air and smashing directly into a ship that had not yet sunk.

In just a moment, the entire ship's structure seemed to be corroded by some acidic vines. The wood rotted and the armor softened. The green monsters on the deck screamed wildly, their skin began to bubble and melt. They desperately jumped into the sea to escape, but happened to fall into the landing point of the second breath and were completely dissolved into foam.

Berg-Schuen followed closely behind, her breath tending towards pure natural power - a thick green spore storm gushed out of her throat, as if the miasma of the entire forest of Athel Loren was compressed into a breath. The spore storm swept past another greenskin warship, leaving only the sound of violent coughing and terrified wails.

The greenskins on the ship drew their swords and slashed like crazy, trying to disperse the spores, but they could not cut the air. Green pus began to ooze out of their eyes, and the skin under the tattered armor turned even greener, then swelled and festered, and finally fell to the ground and twitched like a bubble.

On the dragon head and back of Sesin-Hal, the aggressive Nestra and Arohan were like gods, with broad vision and accurate judgment of the battle situation. Their figures danced with the wind, and their bowstrings were fully drawn, making the sound of strings like a harp. Every arrow seemed to be attached with death messages, swooping down from mid-air and accurately shooting into the enemy's eyebrows, throat, and chest, without missing a single arrow. The two of them cooperated like one person's two arms, without words, and the arrows intertwined into a sky net, piercing the deck, mast, and flesh.

Indra sat firmly on Berg-Schuen's lush green back, his long hair fluttering in the wind like a high-raised flag.

She had no intention of attacking.

It’s not that I don’t want to.

But there is no need for that.

Looking around, the entire sea area was like a wound torn open by nature, with debris floating and wailing everywhere. She could not see any target worthy of her attack. The greenskins' front had already collapsed, like a plate of rotten meat that had been kicked over, and even flies were unwilling to lick it.

For a moment, she was actually a little bored.

So she yawned long and deeply, then narrowed her eyes and looked at the group of sea elements below that were still wreaking havoc.

She admired their dance and marveled at their purity.

Then she smiled.

The laughter was loud, undisguised, even a little harsh. It was a laugh of pure malice, like the excitement and joy of a child seeing an ant nest flooded, wanton, arrogant, and without mercy.

She was very familiar with the greenskins. She had dealt with them many times, and her territory had been severely harmed by the greenskins. The greenskins rampaged across that vast land, burning villages and trampling fields, like a never-tiring plague and disaster.

She hated them, hated them to the core.

On the grassland, orcs are like rabbits, running around wildly and can never be defeated; goblins are like mice, never fighting head-on, but can penetrate into every hole.

And at sea?

They were like wild boars that had fallen into a swamp, unable to run freely any more but only struggling, roaring, and rolling in vain in the endless mud - and finally sinking to the bottom of the mud.

In the sky, the wind sounded like a knife, the dragons roared like drums, and the rain of arrows from the Twilight sisters was like dense hammer blows. All the sounds intertwined into a terrifying concerto of destruction.

Above the sea, flames and poisonous fog provide a steady and deep bass melody for this concerto.

The already dilapidated greenskin fleet was now more like a defeated dog caught in the air and the sea, whimpering, disintegrating, and sinking. Their howls became background music, and their flesh and blood became sacrifices.

Sesin-Hal, who was beginning to get carried away, changed her posture, stretched out her dragon claws, and tore the mast apart. The iron and wood structure shattered like paper under her claws, and the fragments flew everywhere, knocking down several greenskins who were operating the catapults.

Then, she swung her tail violently, sweeping out with the force of a storm, and the hurricane-force wind at the end of her tail overturned the greenskins on the deck. The screaming greenskins rolled in the air like rag dolls, and were thrown out and smashed into the sea, causing a series of bloody splashes.

She raised her head again, and a dragon roared, deafening her ears. Then, a poisonous breath suddenly sprayed out, dyeing the entire ship green. The poisonous breath not only corroded the wood and melted the metal, but also seeped into the cracks under the deck, poisoning the greenskins hiding there to death. The middle section of the entire warship collapsed in the poisonous fog, and the greenskins were wrapped in the smoke before they could even scream, turning into pools of green pus.

Berg-Shun followed closely behind, but her fighting style was more rhythmic. She flew down from high and chose a green warship loaded with kerosene barrels as her target. Her green spore breath did not burst out, but slowly fell from her mouth like a curtain, covering the enemy ship.

These spores drilled into the cracks in wooden boards, the gaps in loading barrels and cables like living things, multiplied and fermented rapidly, and then - exploded.

The entire cabin seemed to be torn apart by the force of the implosion, the deck exploded, and the kerosene and spores merged to release a blazing emerald green flame, which spread to the adjacent ships and triggered a chain reaction. At this moment, Berg-Schuen was like a god sowing destruction. Wherever he breathed, ships burned, enemies cried, and the air was filled with the stench of burning and the fishy smell of spores.

The remaining greenskins all screamed and fled in fear, but the sky would have no mercy, the wind would not listen to their pleas, and the sea would not provide protection.

And above this destruction, Kaleen quietly floated on the top of the clouds, overlooking everything with the coldness of a god.

Then he narrowed his eyes and cast his gaze towards the distant horizon.

Then he laughed.

It was not a laugh of joy, but more like a laugh of irony at the accidental intersection of fate.

He could feel that Elmir's fleet was originally preparing to turn left and cut into the greenskin fleet for a quick and clean kill.

However, the sea elements were one step faster than them.

Too much faster.

This put the Elmir fleet into a tactical embarrassment.

It's like everyone has an appointment to go to a banquet together, but after sitting down, they find that the dishes have been eaten first, and the eating manners are extremely ugly, with the tablecloth messed up, the dishes overturned, and even the soup spilled all over the floor. As a result, the later ones have no appetite at all, and they can't say anything.

He laughed again, but his laughter was restrained. He empathized with Elmir and could even imagine Elmir's expression and actions at the moment.

Sure enough, after making an awkward maneuver, Elmir's fleet returned to its original direction and headed towards the farther sea, where there were still fleets that could still fight, meat that could be eaten, and... prey that was still edible.

Then he turned his gaze downward.

The Pterosaur Squadron has deployed its formation and started diving.

His perspective changed.

A dotted line emerged in his perception, and then more dotted lines appeared - densely packed, spreading in the air like a spider's web, each one accurately outlining the target and angle, representing a finishing blow that was about to fall.

But he just watched quietly, without giving any orders or interfering. (End of this chapter)