Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"He left, peacefully."

Just as the cruise ship full of important elves, red dragons and lizardmen was gradually slowing down and slowly heading towards the small port, Salir walked quickly to Daxus' side, his voice low and calm, as if he was talking about something that had already been destined.

Dacus glanced at Salir and said nothing, but nodded calmly. He knew who the "he" Salir was referring to, and he didn't need to ask.

Just like in another timeline, Bel-Hathor passed away peacefully and calmly. That dreamlike sleep was a gentle echo of his life. As one of the few Phoenix Kings who entered the Holy Fire after passing the Fire Avoidance Spell and still had a good end, the departure of this great wizard was somewhat miraculous.

But it only "seems" that way.

Unlike the other timeline, this time, Bel-Hathor's death was not caused by natural aging, nor was it a conspiracy or poisoning. There was no assassination or murder, and even the person who did it did not exist. His death was "manipulated" - an interference from a higher dimension, an undetectable and irresistible change, just like... it was like the universe suddenly whispered to you: "The whole universe will flash for you."

Then, it really flashed.

Don't ask how it flashes, don't investigate the mechanism behind it. Anyway, it succeeded, the purpose was achieved, the process was left without any trace, and the effect was perfect.

Death and birth, seamlessly connected, not even a second of pause left for you. This day is both the day of the Phoenix King's death and the moment of his birth.

This day will become a watershed in the history of the elven society and even the entire world. It will be imprinted in everyone's memory like a holy flame and will never fade.

Tradition?

According to the ancient tradition of Asur, in the second year after the death of the Phoenix King, the new Phoenix King or the King of Reapers will step into the sacred fire with the blessing of the fire-avoiding spell, complete the coronation, inherit the throne, and symbolize rebirth.

However, at this moment – ​​tradition means nothing.

This is not a trampling of tradition, but a direct disregard. When this huge ship entered the port, the tradition was blown away by the wind and sank to the bottom of the sea.

For Duruchi, they have never had this tradition. For Ainir and Aslai, this tradition has nothing to do with them, because they are Ainir and Aslai, not Asur.

As for the Asur who came with the ship, they were once the most loyal guardians of tradition, but now they threw it into the fire with their own hands. Because at this moment, for them, "tradition" is no longer enough to support their inner faith and legitimacy. They would rather abandon the old rules and firmly believe that their choice is not betrayal, but redemption.

Only by reaching a result quickly, clearly, and accurately can the turbulent hearts of these elves be soothed. Only in this way can they feel at ease and believe that they are on the "right side", rather than becoming victims of the times and traitors of history, and becoming a laughing stock.

At this moment, what they need more than the process, the ceremony, or those lengthy and complicated traditions is - a conclusion!
A clear and unshakable conclusion!

Only in this way can the losses in Ulthuan be minimized and real loss of life avoided.

As for the great Imrik the Taker King...

Wish him good luck?

"Later..." Just as Salir turned to leave, Dacus suddenly spoke, his voice was not loud, but it was gentle and deliberately suppressed. Salir stopped in his tracks and looked back at him with a little doubt.

"Shall we go to Death Island and Eden Valley together?" He continued, his tone calm, as if he was chatting, but there was a deep meaning in his eyes.

Salir looked at him, smiled, bowed gracefully, and then turned and walked away without saying anything, walking steadily as usual, as if the proposal had been expected and even prepared.

After this matter came to an end, the cruise ship would set off for the Kingdom of Safri, just like the trip to Lustria, a long journey across the ocean. Instead of sitting on the ship and letting the sea breeze mess up my thoughts, I might as well go out for a walk and come back when the ship is about to dock.

As for whether there will be any political turmoil or undercurrents of power clashes in this process? You are overthinking it. Bel-Hathor's death was manipulated.

Malekith knew this very well.

This is a cruel fact. There is no need to ask for details, and there is no way to change the reality.

The current Dacus's position has become extremely subtle. You can say he is a participant or an outsider. He has an extremely detached temperament - like a GM who has opened a small account and is performing a high-level role-playing in the game. This "inappropriate" sense of existence is the origin of Malekith's words: Compared to you, my demands are few and small.

And when the news of Bel-Hathor's death spread like ripples through the cruise ship, the Asur on the ship suddenly found that they didn't know how to react.

Should we observe a moment of silence? Or should we continue to wait anxiously for what will happen next?
At least, that was the case with Finnubar, who remained silent, looking into the distance with a face as pale as paper.

Fortunately, he is an elf and does not have the arm strength of some races that can easily break the fence, otherwise... the metal fence he is holding at this moment would probably have been twisted into a ball of scrap metal by him.

Under the impact of multiple emotions, he could no longer stand alone. He needed to rely on something to stabilize his body, his hands tightly grasped the railing, his joints turned white, and his whole body trembled uncontrollably.

This feeling was even stronger than any other important decision he had made before. It was like a slowly advancing progress bar that was about to reach the end.

It's not a leisurely wait, but a life-and-death gamble.

Yes, Daxus said he would not lose, and he really wouldn't lose, but he still... couldn't help but feel deeply anxious. It was an anxiety that came from instinct and was unavoidable.

until--

until--

Until he saw the familiar figure, Daxus, who was the first to get off the boat, walked steadily towards the dock, and under the gaze of everyone, stood in front of Kadroin without hesitation.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew that the game was secured, completely secured. The only thing left was to witness. Or to use Dacus's words: draw a lottery?

The small dock was filled with Phoenix Guards. They were arranged in neat and silent queues, standing at the end of the dock like a row of motionless flame statues.

Kadroin, the anointed one of Asuryan, stood there, facing the morning breeze, his eyes as sharp as torches, staring at Daquus.

No halberd was drawn.

No roar.

There was no bloody conflict that recurred in most Asur's minds and existed in dozens of hypothetical scenarios.

Nothing at all.

There was only silence, only gazes, and a sense of stillness as if time had been frozen in an instant - the kind of silence that only those who truly see through the essence of things can understand.

"Why...why...not Morael?" Elardesi, who was also relieved, couldn't help but ask out loud, his tone full of confusion.

In his memory, the captain of the Phoenix Guard had always been Morael, and the person standing on the dock should be Morael, not Kadroin in front of him. But no matter what the answer was, fortunately, the result was good.

Finnubar shook his head. He didn't know the answer. He didn't have the energy to think about these details, and now it seemed that they were no longer important.

What really mattered was that the Phoenix Guards did not draw their halberds against Darkius, did not try to stop him, and certainly did not attack him.

This is undoubtedly the best signal!

"I know who you are, and you know who I am." Dacus stood on the dock, his eyes calm and his voice low, but it shook everyone's ears like thunder. After he finished speaking, he took a few steps forward, his pace neither fast nor slow, with a calmness and pressure that made people dare not interrupt.

He stretched out his right hand, a smile on his face, and continued softly, "I know you can't speak, and I don't need you to nod or shake your head, but we can shake hands in a friendly manner, right?"

This was not a request, it was a notice, and the leeway he gave was almost zero.

It was as if Kadroin knew what Dacus would say and do in advance. He did not freeze in thought before reacting. He took a step forward, his steps decisive and crisp.

The next moment, he also stretched out his hand, met the right arm that Dacus stretched out, and without hesitation, he tightly grasped the other's forearm. To be precise, he grasped the inside of Dacus' forearm. This was a real handshake, trusting and firm.

At the moment of holding, Dacus suddenly pulled Kazhuoin closer. Just when everyone thought that there might be some unexpected action, his other hand, the left hand, fell on Kazhuoin's back. That action was like a brother and an ally.

This time, Kazhuoin was really confused. He had never seen such a plot in any script. Before he could react, Dacus had already let go of his hand and appeared beside him like the wind. The next moment, Dacus held his right arm high and waved it towards the dock. His gesture was clear, decisive and powerful.

It was a declaration, a gesture to announce it to the world.

The elves who had been standing by the fence and watching for a long time were stunned at first and reacted a beat slowly, but after that beat, the entire dock was instantly engulfed in cheers.

The cheers were genuine, heartfelt, and exciting, and they were an irrepressible outpouring of emotion. Whether it was Duruchi in black armor, Asur in gold and silver robes, or Ainir and Asrai from the forest on the other side, they all spoke at the same time.

because……

This is undoubtedly another good signal!

A signal that crushes the last concerns in one's heart, a signal that allows one to lay down one's weapons, let down one's guard, lift one's head and breathe.

Dacus looked at the scene in front of him and smiled with satisfaction. He did this just for them to see, to give the Asurs, the Enil, the Druks, and even Malekith who was watching from afar, another reassurance.

He never limited his vision of a situation to a single path; he had envisioned multiple outcomes and made multiple plans for them.

Either - things start and end neatly, like a perfect dance drama, with thunderous applause at the curtain call;

Either - things took a turn that required him to adjust his pace in time;

Or - things will go completely off track and turn into a melee, a complete "chicken-eating competition".

This is also why he said to Finnubar: "You are the winner no matter what."

If Malekith walked out of the holy fire, it would prove that Finnubar's judgment was extremely correct, and his choice was the most forward-looking move in the history of Asur.

If Malekith did not walk out of the Holy Fire, then Dacus would walk in and out by himself. It would also prove that Finnubar's choice was correct, because he bet on Dacus and the future.

Even in the most extreme case: if Dacreus doesn't come out, then they will just fight each other, like the time when the elves fought inside and outside the Temple of Asuryan.

In order to give Asur an advantage, in addition to this cruise ship, Dacus also dispatched five dragon ships and matching Tritons.

Finubal, who won the chicken-eating contest, is still the winner. He can declare to the outside world that all this is the result of a big game he is playing, a net he has set up to catch all the top leaders of Druch at the cost of the country's foundation.

As for the price? The fall of Lothern and the destruction of the Kingdom of Itain.

The scene is reproduced again.

Last time, outside the illusion, Malekith was standing there, and he witnessed the farce-like interaction between Dakwus and the captain of the Phoenix Guard. At that time, he had two thoughts in his mind, one was that this was too absurd and too outrageous, and the other was... this seemed to be expected?

And now, that feeling of absurdity and predictability came again, even stronger, and even made him have the illusion for a moment that he had been living in some kind of arranged chess game, and only now realized that he was walking on that predetermined line.

The visiting team had no plans to stay on this volcanic island for long.

After getting off the boat, they walked along a hillside path paved between palm trees, and the sunlight shone through the gaps between the leaves and fell on them like a solemn baptism.

Along the way were large tracts of neatly trimmed vineyards and colorful gardens. The sun was shining brightly, and birds were singing on the branches, their voices clear and melodious. Huge butterflies were flying between the hedges and flowers, colorful and almost as big as the birds, as if all of this was a welcome ceremony drawn up to welcome their arrival.

At regular intervals, you can see two Phoenix Guards standing upright on both sides of the staircase, just like the temple guards standing on the steps of a pyramid?
They wore armor interwoven with gold and red, their faces expressionless, their postures like mountains, their eyes fixed, as if they were part of the rock. They were silent, but this was not because of pride or indifference, but because of the oath they had made long ago - the moment they became Phoenix Guards, they had sworn never to speak again. They had entered the "Between Days", a secret room deep in the temple, a realm that Asuryan opened only to them, and there, they had seen everything.

Yes, everything.

The past, present, and future... just like crossing the river of time, they were forced to know too many truths. However, these truths were forbidden to them by God, so they could only seal them deep in their souls as eternal watchers.

While walking, Bel-Ehor and Istharion looked at each other at the same time at a corner. There were no extra words in the eye contact, they just nodded to each other, and then walked side by side silently again.

Daqiu, who was walking at the front of the team, took a deep breath. The air was filled with an indescribable fragrance, like a mixture of the salty sea breeze, the fragrance of flowers, and a faint smell of burning incense.

He could feel that there was a faint power hidden in that breath, flowing into his body along with his breathing. It was not a violent invasion, but a slow nourishment, like a clear spring rippling in the lake of his heart, making him become clear and sharp.

He unconsciously slowed down his pace, and each step he took became more cautious, fearing that his actions would destroy the tranquility and harmony of this ancient land. He could feel the energy in the air, like a mist, cool against the skin, refreshing.

This kind of power is neither oppressive nor aggressive, but rather a gentle yet omnipresent envelopment. It is as if the entire island is breathing, operating in a constant rhythm, and every breath brings out a certain profound divinity and wisdom, which is awe-inspiring.

However, that’s all.

He did not feel the existence of the stone slab, the key object that was expected to appear here, the key of guidance, the core of destiny... he felt nothing.

He could only see the Temple of Asuryan standing on the high slope, which seemed so far away in the sunlight, yet seemed to be right in front of him. Below the temple were layers of stacked stones, most of which had been weathered, with cracks on the surface and covered with ochre moss.

The entire temple did not look like it was built by a builder, but rather a part that grew out of the mountain. It was too natural and blended perfectly with the surrounding environment. The stone steps and arches seemed like the mountain itself had decided to grow these things, rather than being carved out by a craftsman with a hammer and a chisel. It was as if the temple appeared the moment Ulthuan appeared.

Under the sunlight, the temple's outline looked particularly solemn, with its top piercing the sky and blending into the sky. The runes and reliefs embedded in the stone walls had long been blurred, having experienced the baptism of wind, rain, sun and years, but even so, Daquus could still feel the remaining power in them.

It is a dormant ancient power, a voice from the origin of the world, it does not speak, but clearly conveys information. It does not attack, but makes people dare not act rashly. It exists in everything, like a shadow, moving with the wind, and standing with the mountain.

He gazed at the towering temple. The rows of pillars in front of the gate stood silently, like watchmen from ancient times.

The surfaces of these stone pillars are carved with intricate and solemn reliefs, all of which are sacred manifestations of Asuryan in different images: some reliefs show an elf father with a kind face and gentle eyes, looking at his people; some are a swooping falcon with sharp claws extended and fierce eyes, as if to tear evil into pieces in the air; and more are phoenixes flying with wings spread and feathers covering the sky, their feathers leaping like flames, and the next moment they will soar into the sky from the stone and burn away all filth.

Around these ancient stone pillars stood rows of silent Phoenix Guards. They were warriors of Asuryan, the embodiment of the gods. They held halberds inlaid with gems in their hands and wore helmets decorated with golden feathers. The helmets reflected the sunlight, making it difficult to look directly at them. The scales on their bodies seemed to be woven with moonlight, shining silver, like the dancing light on the sea. And the snow-white cloaks fluttered gently in the sun, with red and blue embroidered patterns on them, like waves and flames intertwined, an eternal image of sea water and fire, symbolizing that they are both protectors and purifiers.

When Dacus approached the temple gate that seemed to be carved out of the mountain, the Phoenix Guards all bowed to him in unison, their movements uniform and in unison, like the wind blowing through the forest. He nodded calmly in response, his expression calm and his manners composed, then he stepped into the heavy sacred door and slowly walked into the antechamber.

It was an empty room, with smooth walls and no decorations. It was so solemn that it was almost suffocating. As if to deliberately preserve the purity and sacredness of this space, only on the door directly opposite was there a carving of a huge phoenix with its wings spread out, ready to fly. Its wings covered the entire stone door, and in the next moment it would break through the wall and fly towards the holy fire and the starry sky.

On both sides of the corridor were two narrow and clear pools. The water surface was like a mirror, reflecting the skylight of the temple and some kind of oracle beyond reality. On both sides, the Phoenix Guards stood in neat rows, motionless, blending into the stone pillars. Their eyes looked straight ahead without a ripple. They were like the echo of fire, silent but blazing, with an indescribable pressure hidden in the solemnity.

Under Kadroin's guidance, Daquus continued to move forward, his footsteps echoing softly on the smooth stone floor. Each of his steps was extremely steady, as if he was walking on a track woven by fate and divine will, and soon he arrived at the main hall of the temple.

And in the center of this silence, on the sacred altar of Asuryan, the sacred fire of the King of Gods is burning.

That was not strange fire.

It was a flame without any fuel, floating in the air. It was suspended above the altar, like a living god, three times taller than an elf, burning quietly in the air. It had no sound, no heat, but released awe-inspiring power and majesty. It was like some kind of silent call, or a pair of eyes watching everything in the world.

The color of the flame is constantly changing, blue, green, red and gold alternately, each change of color is as natural as the change of seasons but with a certain mysterious rhythm. It does not make a crackling sound, and is not as restless as ordinary flames. It burns quietly, peacefully and sacredly.

As Dacus approached, he felt not heat or oppression, but an indescribable tranquility, a gentle force calming all the noise and distractions in his heart. His breathing unconsciously slowed down, as if at this moment, time also slowed down.

Underfoot, there are marble tiles inlaid with golden runes. These runes are arranged in complex and mysterious circular patterns around the central flame, burning with a light that cannot be produced by flames. They seem to be whispering, telling the stories of gods and the cruelty of fate to all who step in.

On the white stone walls, there were circles of braziers, each of which was cast in the shape of a phoenix spreading its wings, their wings gently folded, and inside they burned even more bizarre flames. These flames illuminated the entire hall with golden light, as if bathing in the light of heaven, or as if being among the stars.

Daxus slowly shifted his gaze from the silently burning holy fire to the interior of the temple. He hardly needed Kadroin's guidance to notice that, as if he had foreseen this moment, the entire hall had already been prepared for the upcoming ceremony.

The chairs for watching the ceremony have been neatly placed on both sides, with cushions sewn with silver thread on the seats, which look solemn and peaceful. A long carpet representing the will of the sacred fire has also been laid on the ground.

The entire space is filled with a solemn divinity and a premonition that time has stood still.

All of this is for the next ceremony, for this moment of destiny. (End of this chapter)