Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"Zero points!"

Without hesitation or respect, Dakota gave Malekith this humiliating score in his mind without any psychological burden.

Trucchi Society uses a five-point scoring system, with five points being the highest, symbolizing glory and perfection, and one point being the lowest, signifying shame and failure.

But he gave a zero.

That's right, it's zero.

He desperately wanted to appear before Malekith immediately, poking Malekith's forehead with his finger and yelling: Shameless! Unscrupulous!

Of course, he wasn't much better off himself.

But that doesn't stop him from spouting a few words now. Perhaps this is what they call "it's always particularly unpleasant to see others showing off." I wonder how his cousin, who has silently endured him all this time, managed to get through it.

It must be love!
It must be family love!

He's a family hero!

During those days when they were alone in the dark room, deep within the Black Tower of Nagarond, in that dim and solemn throne room, when the two of them stared at each other, Malekith would always like to ramble on and on about the past.

That tone was just like that of an old man in his twilight years, sitting in front of a fireplace with a half-peeled orange, muttering as he peels it, "Back in my day, I was the same..."

Then, as he continued reciting, his voice lowered, his head tilted to the side, his body straightened, and the orange in his hand rolled onto the floor.

In a sense, Dakota may lack other skills, but his ability to overthrow his superiors is definitely his greatest weapon.

They are particularly good at assigning tasks to their superiors and giving orders to their subordinates.

The raiding ships that are currently in widespread use were the task he assigned to Malekith, but they dragged their feet and took a long time to develop. He even had to find the energy core from Elsin Alvin to push the raiding ships into the implementation phase.

As for the remaining political and administrative matters, let alone them, when he was wandering around Elsin Alvin, everything that needed to be done was handled by Malekith. Whether he did it himself or arranged for someone else to do it was none of his business; his task was to assign the work to Malekith.

During their time alone, staring at each other, when Malekith recounts those old stories—who wronged him, who betrayed him, who still owes him a throne—Darkus will cut into it, find the core of the story, amplify it, and project it into the future.

Magic against magic, he and Malekith are in the present, Malekith talks about the past, he talks about the future, and there's no problem at all.

We talked about the White Lion Guard once.

Marekis, who was still in the acute phase of his illness, was completely overwhelmed.

He erupted like a volcano, abruptly rising from his throne and unleashing a torrent of roars. A barrage of filthy curses in El Salim rained down like machine gun fire, interspersed with slang and profanities that made one's blood boil, and occasionally a few words of Qazali German would slip in.

For Darkus, reality and memory aligned. Malekith was already extremely eloquent, and before his first entry into the sacred flame, he was full of witty remarks.

Of course, he could understand Malekith.

That feeling is like a goddess being pursued relentlessly by a rich second-generation heir who can't be bothered to even glance at him.

This is normal.

But then, the goddess turned her attention to someone else—a poor young man…

After Malekith had finished his rant, his mouth was dry, his anger had been vented, and his emotions had been fully released, Dakous slowly steered the conversation back on track.

Of course, while they say they're continuing the conversation, they're really just starting to ramble and brag—standard drinking spiel, all based on imagination, a classic narrative structure of "what will happen in the future."

Unfortunately, there was no wine or peanuts in the throne room, and the spicy shredded chicken was also unavailable.

He raised this possibility at the time, which is now, at this very moment, the drama unfolding in reality. Malekith was very dismissive at the time, first making sarcastic remarks, saying that he had too much of an imagination.

Then...

That's just how human nature is.

Although Malekith was a Witch-King, a powerful figure, a politician, and a master of political maneuvering, he was essentially still an intelligent being, a soul struggling between desire and fate. He could not escape—he could not escape the 'future script' that Darkus had set for him.

Sure enough, Malekith stood up again, straightened his back, and strutted out with that "I am king" attitude, putting on what he called a performance. But it was really just a venting of his anger with threats; he had a set of lines he knew by heart.

“If you are willing to kneel before me and kiss the dust off my boots, I may forgive your foolishness and betrayal.”

That tone, those gestures—typical Malekith.

As usual, Darkus simply disapproved, rolling his eyes on the spot. When he expressed his disagreement, Malekith predictably retorted with a sarcastic question.

"If it were you, what would you do?"

As a result... this very scene unfolded in the throne room, with Daxus becoming the performer and Malekith becoming the audience.

Malekith's words at the time were full of disdain, as if this wouldn't work and that was too weak, saying: "Do you really think these idiots will fall for this?"
but……

A classic is a classic.

Saying one thing but doing another perfectly encapsulates Malekith's true nature. Undoubtedly, he had already memorized the lines, gestures, emotional fluctuations, and even the angles of his stance that Darkus had plagiarized.

And now, he, Malekith Malthanath, the eleventh Phoenix King, has replicated this set exactly as it was.

The effect...

No White Lion Guard member "fainted from high emotional intelligence," nor did anyone suddenly sound the horn signaling the end of the battle. The soldiers didn't cheer, throw down their helmets, put away their axes, or rush into Malekith's arms shouting "Our King has returned!" Those further away simply fired two arrows into the sky in celebration.

There was no Phoenix Guard or Sea Guard dropping their weapons, running towards the White Lion Guard, embracing them, or staging a scene of joyful tears.

The White Lion Guards had never served under Malekith, nor had they fought alongside him. On the contrary, they were formed by Malekith himself, and after their formation, they consistently opposed him.

So, no one got excited, and no one shed tears.

Everyone was very restrained, and their restraint led to a tacit understanding.

He neither picked up an axe to strike Malekith, nor threw down his weapon, burst into tears, and rushed to embrace him, calling him "Your Majesty." Only a complex expression, suppressing conflicting emotions, surfaced behind his armor.

So, Malekith breathed a sigh of relief, a real sigh of relief.

“Darkus is right, whitewashing weakens one by three.” He murmured, his tone carrying a kind of helpless clarity, and a touch of self-mocking chill.

He said nothing more.

They didn't spout any nonsense about fighting for me, nor did they spout any nonsense about fighting for your Majesty.

He knew perfectly well, a master of political maneuvering, that this outcome was the best possible result. Saying another word could shatter the fragile balance that was barely maintained.

In the past, he would have said much more. He would have used language to pressure, probe, and force these people to make a clear statement. But now he is the Phoenix King, the eleventh Phoenix King.

He opened his arms wide, raising them high, as if embracing the era, or perhaps his own destiny. He strode forward before the White Lion Guards, step by step, without hesitation.

“You…” After the dust settled, Darkus turned to look at Hoss beside him. But as soon as he uttered a word, he saw not Hoss, but Saril.

In that instant, their eyes met; there were no words, nor were words needed.

He got it.

Hoss went offline, and Saril returned. "Coming and going in a hurry," he muttered, as if both teasing and sighing.

But it’s normal to think about it.

That's just how Hoth is; He never indulges in extravagance, clamor, or rituals. If it were the kind of thing that involves teleporting to the White Tower of Hoth, waving to the believers, emitting a golden light, and proclaiming "I am reason," He would disdain and be too ashamed to do it.

He was calm, restrained, and concise to the point of being cruel.

At least the Hoss that Dakous knew wouldn't do such a thing.

"Are you alright?" he asked Saril in a natural tone.

“Very good.” Saril nodded, his voice calm, as if no divine intervention had ever occurred.

"That's good." Darkus nodded, his expression unchanged, as if the other person had only changed clothes. He turned his gaze back to his lover and nodded to her.

The instant he landed, a hand unexpectedly reached out from the side and grabbed his shoulder. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, that hand pulled him away from where he stood.

"Did you just laugh?" A familiar voice rang in his ear, carrying a hint of helpless anger.

"Really?" Darkus wore an innocent, bewildered expression, as if he didn't know what had happened. He looked completely innocent, like he didn't know who he was, where he was, or what he had done.

He didn't bother asking Drusara and Takaya, who were clearly trying to avoid the situation by pretending not to have seen anything. There was no need for them to get involved; it was pointless and utterly unnecessary.

“Yes! And he was laughing very loudly!” Malekith didn’t ask any further questions, but continued to press, his tone becoming increasingly annoyed, “So loud that I could hear it downstairs!”

Despite being restrained, Darkus remained calm. He slid his left foot back half a step, crossing his right leg to maintain his balance and create as much distance as possible from Malekith. He slowly raised his hands, gracefully extending them to the sides of his head, fingertips together, and shoved the hair on either side of his forehead towards the middle.

"Open your eyes and look, it's grown!" In response to Darkus's provocative gesture, Malekith pointed to his head with his other finger, almost proudly announcing it.

Darkus looked over and saw that Marekis's head was indeed covered with a layer of soft, barely perceptible down, like a tender sprout breaking through the soil in spring—fragile yet resolute. This meant that the image of "Bald Marekis" would ultimately be temporary and unsustainable.

His expression changed, from surprise to disappointment, and finally turned into a meaningful sigh, a sigh so heavy that it seemed to lower the frequency of the air.

Malekith released him, but then widened his eyes and continued to point at him relentlessly, trying to press the issue further.

"How are you feeling?" Seeing that the time was right, Darkus changed the subject, speaking naturally as if the scuffle was just a casual exchange between friends.

“So-so,” Malekith said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t done anything worthy of being written into the elven annals or repeated in a play just a moment ago, but had simply eaten a meal and drunk some wine.

Darkus's expression changed again, turning into undisguised contempt. He tilted his head, raised the corner of his eye, and curled the corner of his mouth, staring at Malekith beside him with a mocking look.

Without a doubt, Malekith has once again shown off.

"What are you going to do next?"

“Return to Flame Island.” Malekith answered readily, his gaze already drifting towards the White Lion Guards who were beginning to set up camp not far away. Then, his eyebrowless brows furrowed slightly, and his tone changed, revealing a hint of annoyance and reproach, “I told you, why are you in such a hurry? Darkus, you’re always like this.”

Darkus nodded, selectively ignoring Malekith's complaints and making no attempt to respond. He then turned and looked at Egileser, who was not far away.

"What is Imrek doing?" he asked in a calm tone as Egileser approached.

“Dragonspine Mountains,” Egileser whispered, uttering a single word.

Darkus laughed, a genuine laugh. It wasn't happiness, but rather an inexplicable sense of absurdity welling up within him, a kind of irony tinged with helplessness and insightful observation, like…

Just like when General Chen went south to Annam and found that the monkeys and French chickens were evenly matched, like two equally matched opponents? A bad player against a bad player, fighting fiercely and without any strategy, yet it was extremely interesting to watch.

It's obvious, just as we discussed before, just as Malekith said.

Malekith is preparing to return to Flame Isle, not to challenge his limits and enter the Sacred Flame for the third time. The true purpose of his journey is to escort Bel-Hathor's coffin to Death Isle, bidding farewell to the tenth Phoenix King and completing a new king's final tribute and farewell to his predecessor. (The process is explained in Chapter 775.)
This is an attitude, a ritual, and an embodiment of political behavior.

The White Lion Guard and the Phoenix Guard have completely different sources of loyalty and different attributes.

The White Lion Guards are loyal to the Phoenix King himself, to the throne that symbolizes royal power, not to any specific person sitting on the throne; the Phoenix Guards are anchored to Asuyan, to the gods, to order itself.

But it's a bit far-fetched to expect the White Lion Guards to fight for Malekith right now.

So I have to refresh...

Just like the reputation system, what was originally hatred between the two sides has now turned into indifference, and you have to grind it out to become friendly, respectful, and worshipful.

The most suitable reputation quest at the moment is the one Malekith is preparing to undertake—escorting Bel-Hathor to complete a political ceremony with the utmost solemnity. During this process, he will train, compete, and interact with the White Lion Guards, showing them a different side of the Phoenix King.

This is the kind of political performance that Malekith excels at.

significance?

That's great.

On one hand, it's meant for those of Asur who support Durucchi, to show them that Malekith respects Bel-Hasor. Politically, it's also a sign of Malekith's respect for Asur, for tradition, and to reassure his supporters.

This is also why he claims to be the eleventh Phoenix King, not the second, and that all the previous Phoenix Kings, from Bel-Shana to Bel-Hathor, were false kings.

On the one hand, although the White Lion Guard only numbered a thousand, and Duruci could wipe them out with a legion, this was only a military matter, and military affairs were merely an extension and means of politics.

The symbolic significance of the White Lion Guards in the elven political landscape is immeasurable. They are the certifier of the legitimacy of power, the continuation of the Asur tradition, and the last line of defense for the Phoenix King against danger.

Imagine the shockwaves and impact of this symbolically significant force standing alongside the Phoenix Guard alongside Malekith.
While it may not be a game-changer yet, this move, in terms of its effect, is almost a precise combination punch.

Although it doesn't possess the power of a high-dimensional, interfering god, nor does it have the speed and violence of a game mechanic where clicking a button or making a decision can instantly change everyone's beliefs, culture, and political stance, it can still play a huge role. In a raging torrent, it can create ripples with a pebble and then ignite an echo.

Will the nobles of Asur in the Kingdom of Charis waver? Perhaps, perhaps not; it's a matter of class and interest structure.

The elites have their own calculations, their own interests, their family's demands, and their historical stance. They can waver, or they can stand firm, even if it's just to wait for a more suitable opportunity to place their bets.

But what if this chain of trust extends downwards, reaching the common people?

If the common people of Charis were given the choice of their future, they would undoubtedly choose to join the elite White Lion Guard, selected from among thousands. The daunting task of being chosen from among thousands did not deter them, for it was a visible path, a ladder to change their destiny.

This inspired more people to "prove themselves." Becoming a White Lion Guard meant being free from the limitations of one's birth, having the right to speak out, and gaining glory, status, and even a new identity.

So what would happen if one day the White Lion Guard stood before an army made up of civilians from the Kingdom of Charis?
Moreover, this is not just a local problem within the Kingdom of Charis.

Other Asur nobles who stood on the side of the Photographer King, as well as the Asur commoners who were swept up by the times and had almost no choice, would also begin to waver.

why?
Because the White Lion Guard represents 'legitimacy'.

Darkus asked about Imrek's whereabouts because he was worried that Imrek might do something.

For example, he could force his way onto Blazing Island and, like his ancestors Kaga 1 and Kaga 2, be crowned the Phoenix King. Or, upon learning the news, he could lose his composure and launch a surprise attack on the fleet.

Meanwhile, Duruci could use this opportunity to secretly plot and lure Imrek out, turning the tables on him.

result……

What extraordinary talents these are! (End of Chapter)