Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Malekith tilted his head slightly, opened his mouth and bit the cigarette handed to him by Daxus.

When the cigarette was bitten, it was like sinking into rusted steel. His charred skin glowed dark red like rust under the firelight. His already incomplete lips were broken again due to the pulling of the action, and blood slowly seeped out from the newly opened wound. The cigarette was almost stuck between the gaps of the exposed teeth, which had already turned sickly gray, and there were still traces of blood and charcoal in the gaps.

Smoke gushed out from his broken mouth, nose and neck, like sulfur gas leaking out of a broken volcano, pungent and oppressive. Even just this one breath revealed the rhythm of rupture, groaning and struggling.

His eyelids, that layer of black metal as thin as a cicada's wing - trembled slightly in the interweaving light of the fireworks and the sacred flame, as if even this moment of breathing seemed a luxury, as if he was whispering to himself at this moment.

He did not speak, but took a deep breath, which was like the last ceremony before the coronation of the king, or like the last consolation before the execution.

“It’s fucking hard to smoke.”

As he whispered a few words, the ash from the cigarette fell slightly, and as the corners of his mouth moved, it fell to the ground and blended into the bloodstains. But he did not let go, the cigarette was still tightly bitten on his hideous face, burning tenaciously in the ruin and pain.

Daxus stood beside him and watched, then suddenly lowered his voice and laughed with a mocking tone.

"You need to get your teeth fixed," he said, patting his chest. "I know a very good dentist. I can introduce him to you if I have the chance."

As soon as these words came out, Dais's expression suddenly became subtle. Fortunately, he was the incarnation of Val, fortunately, he was a craftsman with extraordinary skills, and fortunately, his craftsmanship was still as solid as a rock, and there was no hand shaking to cause any accident.

Gilead, Talos, and Eltharion, who were standing nearby, almost couldn't hold back their laughter, their faces turned red. Others didn't understand, but they did, they understood too well, they knew the source of the dentist joke, and also knew about Daquus' great but ridiculous retirement dream.

At this moment, the tension was completely dispelled.

Malekith just rolled his eyes fiercely, trying to express his "speechless" disgust with his face that was not human-like. Every crack and burn mark on his face was protesting the nonsense at this moment, but in the end he could only sigh and continue to hold the cigarette in his mouth.

After Daxus finished speaking, he ignored everyone's reactions and glanced back at Drusala who was approaching again, then turned back to look at Malekith's head.

At this time, Dais had already removed all the metal rivets used to secure the helmet and was waiting for the next decision.

"Do you want to do it yourself, or..." he asked tentatively.

Malekith slowly raised his eyes and stared at Daquus, gritting his teeth and speaking in a decisive manner.

"you!"

Daxus nodded, raised the corners of his lips, and said in a light-hearted and teasing tone, "Ah~ Don't bow your head, the crown will fall off."

"This is not a crown!" Malekith immediately refuted, his voice low but full of stubbornness, "It's just a headband!"

"I know I know."

Daxus responded to Malekith in a tone like coaxing a child, with a hint of helplessness and a bit of familiar teasing in his words.

He took off a pair of heavy gloves from his walking belt and put them on quickly, his movements were swift but cautious. The only function of this pair of gloves was to isolate, to isolate the interference of magic.

He couldn't imagine becoming the protagonist. Without any protection, he touched the iron headband with his bare hands, and an unexpected situation occurred. He fell here, and his soul reported to Isil, where he had a cordial meeting with the Elf God and the Chaos Gods.

After putting on the gloves, he nodded with satisfaction, turned his palms in front of Malekith, as calmly as a doctor performing a ritual for a patient, then stood on tiptoe and slowly pressed his hands on the heavy steel headband. The next second, he suddenly exerted force and lifted the headband that had been embedded for a thousand years from Malekith's head high.

Despite the extra caution, the move still sparked a reaction.

The cigarette Malekith was biting broke instantly, and the burnt brown tobacco fell from his lips and teeth. His teeth clenched and creaked, like a grinding wheel grinding a stone, his face twitched violently, every inch of muscle was roaring in pain, and his lungs rose and fell violently like a bellows, making a hoarse and piercing whistle.

"It seems that I am not destined to become a good doctor?"

Dacus sighed, his eyes showing no mercy, only heaviness. He took a brand new towel from the tray held by Bel-Ahor and carefully wiped the bloodstained headband clean. His movements were like a craftsman polishing a gem, or a priest cleaning a holy vessel. As he wiped, he held the headband up to the light and examined it carefully, as if trying to determine whether it was still the same work of art.

After wiping it, he gently placed the steel headband on the tray held in Drusala's hands, and then took a step back with her.

"Pauldrons." Dai Si said calmly.

He walked around behind Malekith and touched the rivets that had already been deeply embedded in the skin. When he raised his hand, the rivets connecting the shoulder armor and the chest armor were slowly pulled out.

Every time it was pulled out, there was a crisp sound of metal hitting the ground.

One sound, two sounds…six sounds.

The rivets seemed to be peeled off not from armor and flesh, but from the depths of the soul.

Daxus stood quietly. He could feel that with each rivet that fell to the ground, Malekith's body seemed to become lighter, but the relief was filled with tearing and emptiness.

Malekith gasped heavily, as if he had finally escaped from the water. He took a deep breath and swallowed the half-smoked cigarette directly, as if swallowing an old memory, and then let out a hoarse roar.

"cigarette!"

Eltharion immediately stepped forward, took out a cigarette case, took out a cigarette from it, and placed it steadily next to Malekith's mouth. Just as he was about to light it, he saw the cigarette automatically ignite under the stimulation of magic, so he had to put the lighter and cigarette case back in dismay.

At the same time, Dais had come to Malekith's side, pressed his left shoulder armor with both hands, pressed, twisted, and lifted, and the heavy shoulder armor was removed according to the process.

He gently handed it to Eltharion who was standing beside him. The latter took it steadily and squatted down to place it on the ground. When Eltharion stood up, Gilead on the right also took the right shoulder armor.

Daxus took out his cigarette case smoothly and put a cigarette in his mouth. He looked back at Finnubar and handed him the lighter.

Finnubar took the cigarette from the very beginning, but never lit it. He just watched silently, watching Malekith take off the shackles one by one, and watching the body break free from the cage.

Seeing the lighter handed to him by Dacus, he hesitated for a moment, but finally put the cigarette to his lips. He took a light puff, and the smoke slowly came out from his mouth and nose. Then he tilted his head and looked at Dacus with a slightly inquiring look.

Daxus simply shook his head, and as the smoke dissipated in the air, he sighed softly.

"You are so kind."

As he said this, a trace of contemplation flashed in his eyes, and he remembered what Teclis said to Malekith at the end of time.

"Why do you think Finnubar almost gave up the fight in the end? At least, he was kind by nature. Guilt gnawed at him day and night. He knew that he was just a continuation of a rotten tradition, so he was happy to die."

"Every rivet that comes off is an echo of the past. This is something he must experience." Dacus sighed again.

This time, Finnubar did not respond with words, but just nodded silently and continued to smoke the cigarette slowly. He needed the puffs of smoke to fill the silence in his heart.

"Left hand." Dais spoke as he stretched out his left hand, spread it out, and gestured to Malekith.

Then, he raised his hand again and skillfully began to remove the rivets that fixed the gauntlet. One, two, the rivets were pulled out one by one, and when all the rivets that fixed the gauntlet were detached, the heavy gauntlet naturally slid off and fell to the ground with a thud.

Along with the sound of metal falling to the ground, drops of blood surrounded by black mist fell, just like burning iron liquid emitting burnt smoke on the ground.

Without stopping, Dais's fingers moved up along Malekith's arm and began to remove the armor plates on his forearm. As the armor plates fell off one by one, the arm that once held the shield gradually revealed its true appearance.

The burnt skin was cracked like tortoise shell, and traces of holy fire still remained in the bloody flesh. It was no longer a human arm, but a pillar of repentance forged by fire and time.

At this time, Dacius raised his right hand, with his five fingers together and raised high. His gesture was crisp and clear, interrupting the exclamations of the spectators who had not yet uttered their words.

Next, the right arm was removed.

At this moment, the cigarette in Malekith's mouth had already burned out. Before he could speak, Eltharion had already lit it for him neatly. The flame was lit, illuminating the face that was a mixture of pain and persistence.

Dais said nothing, but stood there quietly waiting. When the new smoke rose and Alaros and Talos had picked up the armor pieces on the ground, he finally spoke.

“Take a step forward!”

Malekith took a step forward.

He walked very slowly, as if he was struggling in a quagmire, so slowly that even the air froze, but he still walked out, even though his steps were staggering and shaky, even though his body was as heavy as a mountain about to collapse, he gritted his teeth and used the last bit of his strength to support this step.

Finally, he finally took this step and got one step closer to the holy fire.

Des glanced at Fergal who was still in a trance, frowned slightly, and then looked at Isharion.

Isharion immediately understood what he meant. He turned to look at Fergal, and seeing that the guy was still standing there in a daze, he simply kicked him and brought Fergal back to reality.

Fergal staggered back to reality, then he looked around blankly, and then as if he suddenly realized who he was, where he was, and what he should do, he quickly took a few steps forward and stood behind Malekith.

"Breastplate." Dai Si whispered.

As the sound faded, the rivets on both sides of the waist began to loosen and fall off.

But this time, unlike previous disassemblies, the breastplate on Malekith was not a single structure, but a segmented armor similar to a lobster armor, made up of segments of armor that bite each other, divided into two large armors and four small armors. The two large armors covered the chest and waist respectively, while the four small armors were stacked layer by layer, protecting the abdomen, like an iron wall blocking the scarred body. The first thing to loosen was the rivet used to connect the chest armor.

The crisp sound of metal falling off rang out again, echoing in the silent and almost solemn space. At the moment when the rivet fell to the ground, Des stopped moving. He cast his eyes towards Malekith who was staring at the holy fire, and spoke in a heavy tone, with a final warning and reminder.

"Are you ready? You know what this means!"

Malekith did not respond immediately. His consciousness seemed to be pulled by something, slowly sinking into the past. At this moment, he seemed to have returned to four thousand years ago, when Bel Shana's ceremony had just ended and he was standing one step ahead of the present, facing the holy fire, staring at the surging holy fire, his heart was burning hot, even hotter than the holy fire.

“If I can walk through this fire with my own strength like my father did without relying on the fire-proof spell and pass Asuryan’s test, then I can prove that I am the true successor to the Phoenix King…”

This was what he thought at the time. His hand involuntarily reached out slowly towards the holy flame, his fingers trembling slightly, as if he was testing the temperature of fate.

But at that moment, a thought suddenly rushed into my mind, like cold iron hitting a blazing fire.

"But what if I'm not strong enough? Will I be burned to death? What if I die? What about Nagarythe? What about the people there?"

He backed off at that moment.

Now, this memory was once again being brought up and interrogated in front of the holy fire. He knew that time had come full circle and had brought him back to square one.

But this time, he already had the answer in his heart. He did not avoid it anymore. He could not avoid it because he knew that Dacus' patience was limited.

After being brought back to his senses by Dess's question, Malekith's gaze slowly focused, his eyes no longer wandering, and he nodded weakly, almost imperceptibly.

Dai Si didn't say much. He just took a deep breath, then grabbed the chest armor that was embedded in his flesh with both hands in an almost rough manner and pulled it out violently.

At that moment, the sounds of metal and charred flesh tearing intertwined, and Malekith's whole body shook violently. A low roar that was suppressed to the limit burst out from his throat. He instinctively wanted to roar and vent, but he clenched his teeth and swallowed the pain back into his chest.

When the chest armor was torn off, the charred flesh was finally exposed to the air. It was an indescribable sight - the scarred skin had lost its original shape, and had been licked by the flames thousands of times, and its original appearance was no longer recognizable.

Gilead and Eltharion, who were standing beside Malekith, looked at each other with complicated expressions, and then stepped forward together, their movements coordinated and decisive. They carefully placed Malekith's arms on their shoulders to help him share the weight that was about to crush him.

But this contact comes with a price.

In just a moment, their expressions turned ferocious. At the place where they touched, the remaining holy fire on Malekith's body found a new channel, penetrated through the military uniforms to their shoulders and necks, burning their flesh and blood. They smelled a strong smell of burnt meat and rust, and they knew that this smell did not come from others, but from themselves.

"Weakness, weakness!"

When Malekith uttered these two words, blood had already rushed to his throat. He then burst into a heart-wrenching cough. Saliva with blood foam slid down the corners of his mouth and dripped onto the floor tiles that were already covered with blood.

If it weren't for the two lieutenants holding him tightly, he would have fallen like a candle in the wind. He tried to break free of their support. He wanted to stand firm on his own and face this step on his own, but he couldn't do it. The hands of Gilead and Eltharion held him in place like iron clamps. Their shoulders were the crutches that supported his last bit of dignity.

"If I step into... the Holy Fire, all I have ever sought in my life... will become... vain."

His voice seemed to be squeezed out from a broken eardrum, and every word was accompanied by a tearing pain.

"Does this make you regret what you did?" Gilead asked without hesitation.

"No!"

Malekith responded softly without hesitation, almost instinctively. Then, the low and hoarse tone suddenly rose and turned into a sonorous and powerful roar, "No! Even if I could do it again, I would do the same!"

His voice pierced the hall, penetrated the doubts and shocks in everyone's heart. It was not the wail of a regretful person, but the roar of a loser, and it was the swan song of a king who stood firm on the edge of the abyss.

Gilead laughed, a laugh as deep and eerie as the sound of a night owl in the forest.

At this time, Dacus raised his right hand again, put his five fingers together, and held it high, interrupting the onlookers' exclamations without warning. His movements were steady and powerful, as if he had anticipated everything.

Then, he slowly raised his left hand and put it in front of his mouth, making a quiet gesture. He announced to the entire hall and the entire world: At this moment, no noise is allowed.

He glanced at Eltharion, who was gritting his teeth and persisting, and then looked at Gilead, who was laughing creepily. A vague and unexplainable illusion arose in his heart - perhaps, among these two, a Phoenix King would be born at some point in the future?

At this time, Dais, in line with the principle that a short pain is worse than a long one, with the assistance of Fergal, Talos and Alaros, he accelerated the process of removing Malekith's breastplate. Sections of armor fell to the ground like peeling iron scales, making a dull thumping sound, and together with Malekith's constantly flowing blood, they gathered into a dark red mark on the cold floor tiles.

Talos raised his head and looked at Dacreus with complicated eyes. When Dacreus looked back, he silently raised his hand and pointed behind Malekith. He did not speak, but his meaning was clear.

Daxus shook his head slightly. He knew what Talos was implying, but he did not agree.

He believed that there was no need to cover up all this, and there was nothing that could not be seen. If he really wanted to cover it up, he would have prepared a red cloth long ago, and pulled it down, and everything would be covered, but what would be the point?
Covering up the scars will only bring shame to history.

Instead, we should show it openly, face it calmly, and look directly at the truth. The pain of this moment is not a humiliation, but a response, an answer to the long history, and a testimony to the spectators.

"The last step." Dai Si's voice was as deep as the night, with a sharp edge of determination.

"I..." Malekith clenched his teeth and his voice was hoarse.

However, he was interrupted before he could finish his words.

The two lieutenants beside him, Eltharion and Gilead, did not wait any longer. They took a step forward together, almost pushing Malekith forward with force, bringing him one step closer to the holy fire.

The rivets of the leg armor are concentrated on the back of the thigh and calf, with a complex structure and difficult to disassemble.

The first thing Dais removed was the rivets used to fix the knee decorations. As the metal decorations fell, Fergal and Alaros quickly stepped forward to take away those meaningless objects and clean them up. Then, after losing their support and fixation, the thigh armor and calf armor naturally fell to the ground, making a dull sound, and every sound struck the hearts of all the spectators.

"The last step." Dai Si repeated again, his tone even heavier, as if he was giving the final prelude to the end.

As soon as he finished speaking, he stretched out his hands, his fingers like claws, and without hesitation pulled out all the rivets that fixed his legs and feet.

At this moment, not only did Malekith's body suffer from severe pain again, but even Eltharion and Gilead, who were carrying him, were also in severe torment. The remnants of the holy fire burned their flesh and blood, and they could almost feel the trembling coming from deep in their bones. But they were still gritting their teeth and holding on. They couldn't fall down, they couldn't fall down here. Malekith, who was carried by them, could fall down, but he couldn't fall down like this.

At this time, four Asuryan priests also came over to help. There were too many scales. They moved skillfully yet solemnly as they carefully cleaned up the scales scattered between Malekith and the holy fire one by one.

They knew that this path must be cleared; it was the holy path to destiny.

From then on, Malekith's body was empty. He was no longer protected by any armor. All coverings were stripped off, leaving only the armor plates under his feet and the armor plates that served as eyelids.

Des originally wanted to go around to Malekith and lead him the last way, but he paused as soon as he took a step. He hesitated. He turned his head and slowly looked at the surging holy fire with his blind eyes covered by the eye mask. He was silent for a moment, as if listening to the whisper of the flame. The next moment, he turned around and went around to the side, facing Eltharion and Gilead who were struggling to support Malekith.

"You two come."

As he spoke, he slowly raised his hand and pointed to his eyes, a simple but meaningful gesture. He seemed to be telling them: he couldn't see, but they could. He wanted them to take the last step for Malekith, and to light the road that had to burn for the entire era.

It also seemed to be telling them...

After hearing the order, Eltharion and Gilead did not hesitate at all. While holding Malekith's body firmly, they moved carefully and slowly, as if completing a sacred ritual, and gently removed the armor eyelids on Malekith's face.

After the armor plate that symbolized authority and concealment was removed, the pair of eyes that had experienced thousands of years of wind, frost and fire were revealed again. They were a pair of tired but still tough eyes, with stubbornness, doubt and determination hidden in their eyes - like the ashes remaining at the end of a storm, still insisting on burning.

"Do you two... want to accompany me... in?" Malekith's voice came out of his throat, intermittently. He was teasing and declaring at the same time.

"of course not!"

Eltharion replied simply. He knew Malekith was teasing him, but he also understood the true meaning behind his words. He then looked at Gilead beside him. Their eyes met briefly, and everything was said without words - just as Malekith said, they could not accompany him into the Holy Fire, and their journey was destined to stop here.

However, even so, they did not let go immediately. They did not turn around and leave, but looked at each other tacitly, and at the same time, lifted Malekith up high. At that moment, it seemed that what they carried on their shoulders was not a burning body, but the burden of an entire era, a legacy of darkness and glory.

When the armor plates on Malekith's feet separated from his soles and lost their support, they leaned forward almost synchronously, and gently pushed with their shoulders, allowing Malekith to move forward another step - one step closer to the holy fire.

This was the final step. They had done all they could. This was the final help they could give to Malekith as a response to their fifty years as his lieutenant.

After making sure that Malekith was standing firmly and could still support himself for a while, they both bent down at the same time and quietly stepped back, leaving the final moment to Malekith alone.

"This is not... decent!" Malekith whispered, his words were bitter and struggling, he tried to maintain his posture, tried not to fall. His legs trembled slightly, trying to take that fateful step, his will was burning, his spirit was roaring.

However, in the end, his body betrayed him.

Just as he took that small step, intense pain and exhaustion surged over him. His legs could no longer support his broken body. He fell forward, defenselessly in front of the holy fire, just before the last step - just one step away.

At that moment, the world was silent.

He fell before the holy fire, his cheek pressed against the cold stone, only an arm's length away from Asuryan's flames.

(The real Nima ink (end of this chapter)