Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Well, the design and structure of the White Pagoda are somewhat abstract.

It's not just any abstraction, but the kind that makes you question the meaning of life. Its spatial layout clearly defies conventional logic; the direction of space, the connection of paths, and even the order of floors may not align with the real world. It's more like a work jointly designed by a drunken geometry master and a sleepwalking architect—full of variables, completely irregular, yet exquisitely ingenious.

For Darkus, the most attractive feature of the White Tower was not its spatial magic or architectural wonders, but the stone slabs.

He liked that feeling, like trying to draw an SSR in a gacha game without a pity system—unknown, exciting, unpredictable, and full of challenges.

Secondly, he was interested in manuscripts and books.

So, naturally, he went to the library without hesitation after entering the tower.

result……

The group wandered around, passing through corridors and halls, and finally arrived at the vaulted treasure vault, or more accurately, the exhibition hall, a display hall bearing history and glory.

So, the White Pagoda's design structure is somewhat peculiar? It could even be described as the culmination of "tower-style abstract art."

To get to the underground library, the treasure vault is the only way. Unless a tunnel boring machine is used to create a completely bypass tunnel, this is the only route.

Upon entering, the most eye-catching and prominent item is a legendary artifact: the "Book of Hoss".

Despite its somewhat worn appearance and the obvious creases from excessive use, its very existence speaks volumes about its significance. It is not only one of the most precious artifacts of the Kingdom of Safriar, but also a symbol of the Asur culture, regarded as a continuation of the spirit of the White Tower.

This book is not intended for display or ritual purposes, but rather for practical study. Its purpose is to help spellcasters gain a deeper understanding of the nature of magic, its operational logic, and the structure of the world.

The first few pages of the book were written by Bel-Khaddis, hailed as the greatest sorcerer after Caledo, the builder of the Tower of Hoth, and the seventh Phoenix King. Each subsequent page records the insights and imprints of the most learned scholars. However, regrettably, many pages in the latter half of the book remain blank, awaiting new wisdom to fill them.

During her introduction, Arelani subtly hinted at her hope that the Chosen One and the incarnation of Hoth would also leave something behind in this book.

As for Liv, and those sorceresses...

She selectively ignored them.

Upon hearing the introduction, Dakos squeezed forward to join the fun and try to catch a glimpse of the legendary figure in the center.

Then, he glanced at it.

Just one glance was like being shone directly into the eyes by a laser pointer; the entire visual nerve went out of control on the spot, and the mind went completely blank.

He retreated silently, like a duck that had just been slapped, and returned to the starting point.

The dense mathematical formulas, geometric figures, and spatial computational diagrams on the screen were too devastating for him. It was a double whammy of physical damage and mental pollution, a combo that left him dizzy and questioning his existence.

Then he heard the sound of pages turning, and, not believing it, mustered his courage and decided to get closer again, trying to challenge his limits.

This time, however, it was all words.

The language, so precise it borders on divine, analyzes the fundamental workings of energy, speaking of 'truth' and discussing 'laws'. Just one paragraph is enough to make him swallow hard several times.

"Farewell."

The next moment, Darkus silently retreated.

It's impossible to surpass; it's impossible to surpass in this lifetime.

Everyone has their own area of ​​expertise, and I'm just a beginner in this field. I only need to understand the multiplication table, and at most, I can cast some small buff spells to give myself and my companions some extra buffs.

As for channeling large-scale spells... are you kidding me?
What's going on? Have all the spellcasters around him died? Are all the Sranian priests asleep? Have all the lizard priests retired? Have the elven spellcasters gone to farm?

Do they need someone as short as him to fill in?
When the situation truly came down to Dakos stepping in, he felt there was no need to struggle anymore. He could simply take out Veszal and hold it to his neck—like Xiang Yu, gracefully crossing the Wujiang River.

Or, to put it even more outrageously, like in some melodramatic novels: Shocking! Overnight, the magical abilities of all spellcasters regressed by 100 times!
Then he was the only kid left who could cast fireballs, and his little fireballs instantly killed Carlos.

Come on, leave this kind of plot to some novel protagonists. He should just stick to looking at the stone tablet, drawing cards, and having some fun. That's the right path for him.

Although this information is of little use to Darkus, it is an invaluable treasure for spellcasters, especially those who have already reached the advanced level.

This is what they've always dreamed of.

As is well known, the Horus system has three main career paths: physical, magical, and dual cultivation.

In the magical path, the order of advancement is: Scholar – Grand Scholar – Supreme Scholar.

But in fact……

This is only the middle stage, or rather, the advanced route that the White Tower internally calls the "main track".

Before that, there are earlier stages, which are the foundational stages of magic learning: Apprentice Mage – Student Mage – Full Mage – High-Rank Mage – Archmage.

It sounds complicated, but it's actually quite easy to understand.

This can be compared to the modern education system, from elementary school to graduate school, each step is a stepping stone, climbing the ladder to the hall of knowledge. The apprenticeship and training stage is like elementary and junior high school, the formal mage to high school is like high school, and the grand mage is like graduating with a bachelor's degree, which means you have completed your apprenticeship and have the ability to cast spells independently. You can choose to leave the White Tower to practice in and around Ulthuan, or continue to study in the White Tower, or be assigned to a key region.

But starting with polymaths, it becomes a different system altogether.

A polymath – a great polymath – a supreme polymath, equivalent to assistant professor, associate professor, and full professor.

The Supreme Demon Swordsman, who oversees all affairs of the White Tower, also holds the dual position of Dean of the Academy of Sciences and Minister of Education, wielding immense authority and possessing both academic and political standing.

Within the society of Asur, the White Tower is almost equivalent to a national academy of sciences. It not only oversees magic academies but also coordinates the educational development of the entire continent of Ulthuan.

As is well known, every child is precious to the Asur people, and education and physical development are highly valued. Children are carefully nurtured regardless of their social class. Tradition, responsibility, and discipline are interwoven into every stage of their growth; their childhood is a journey of striving for excellence, blending ancient wisdom with a pursuit of perfection.

In their early years, Asur adopts a relaxed approach, encouraging children to learn through drawing, doodling, and playing. This educational method continues into their first few years of schooling. From age 5 to 16, when they reach physical maturity, all young elves are required to attend the Hoth Academy, where they typically study, participate in sports competitions, or compose poetry.

This is why the Hosse is not only synonymous with "magic," but also a symbol of "knowledge" and "inheritance."

This is the real reason why the White Tower has such influence in Ulthuan.

This is why, from the seventh Phoenix King to the tenth Phoenix King, they all came from the White Tower.

The White Tower was not only an important academic site, but also a pillar of knowledge and a spiritual beacon for the entire Asur civilization.

The contents of the Book of Hoss are essentially the crystallization of the wisdom, research, and insights of professors, scholars, and magic masters who condensed their life's work. It is a living epic and a concrete manifestation of the culmination of the Asur civilization.

At that moment, Darkus left his book, quietly bypassed the spellcasters who were engrossed in their studies, and chose to come to the side of the Twilight Sisters.

Before the twins was a staff placed on a shelf, the kind of staff that was obviously of great importance. It had an ordinary appearance, but it subtly pulsated with rhythm.

As he approached, before he could even speak, a long, slender arm swiftly reached out and grabbed the staff—Nestra's hand.

In that instant, his eyes widened almost reflexively, and he instinctively reached out to grab Nestra's arm, trying to stop her impulsive act without thinking.

But before he could reach out, another, faster, more precise hand appeared.

Those were Alohan's hands.

As the younger sister, she was clearly well aware of her older sister's "problems" and could "precisely stop" her sister's actions without any communication, just a look and a gesture.

The moment her two hands landed on Nestlar's arms, the sister, who had been reaching out as if under a spell, finally snapped out of her 'enchanted' state, a rare hint of shyness appearing on her face, followed by a somewhat embarrassed smile.

Darkus's lips twitched, and he sighed helplessly in his heart.

“The Staff of Eladil.” As if oblivious to the slightly awkward moment when he reached out, Ashantir leaned closer naturally and introduced it gently, “The staff is imbued with an ancient magic that creates an atmosphere of peace and tranquility, specifically used to soothe turbulent souls and harmonize the tension between the spirit and the magical winds.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at Nestra, “If you wish, it can be touched.”

After saying this, a smile of understanding and tolerance appeared on his face, the kind of smile that only comes from having seen too many spellcasters whose hearts were pounding and whose impulses were hard to suppress.

At this moment, Darkus had already put his hands behind his back, as if afraid that he would also reach out his hands involuntarily, maintaining the posture of a rational observer throughout.

He nodded, his expression calm.

Nestera gently shook her head.

This is not out of shame, but rather a gentle refusal that gradually returns to calm after facing inner struggle.

Nestra and Alohan are the embodiment of the most radiant and the darkest parts of Ariel's soul; the former is compassion separated from the soul, while the latter is a projection of passion.

The peace and tranquility that Ashantir spoke of resonated perfectly with the essence of Nestera.

To some extent, this also explains why she was immediately drawn to the staff, as if it were some kind of instinctive call from the depths of her soul.

The next moment, Asantir's expression turned somewhat forlorn, and her voice lowered.

"Its previous owner was Bell-Hassor."

"A family heirloom?" Darkus asked casually, his tone not probing but merely driven by his usual curiosity.

Ashantir gently shook her head.

"No, the things of the White Tower never belong to any one family. It has had many owners, each of whom was qualified to inscribe their own memories and imprints, but in the end, they were all just fragments in its journey."

Darkus nodded silently again, like a nodding machine, the frequency remaining constant. His question wasn't unfounded; he knew who Eladil was.

Serioll of the Tyriolan family had only one daughter among his offspring, named Elenas.

When discussing this woman, one cannot avoid mentioning a highly abstract period of history.

When Malekith first and only donned the Midnight Armor, he was accompanied by three maids. They were Drusara's ancestor, Drusara; Ashnil, the white moonlight in Aris's heart; and the third, Celioll's only daughter, Ireneth.

This sister is very abstract; she can be said to have squandered a good hand. Her personality is extremely difficult to define. Perhaps she lacked maternal love, perhaps she was strictly protected by her father from a young age, or perhaps her maternal love was too excessive, which created her complex and contradictory nature.

She was born in a towering castle tower within the territory of Saffre, and her mother passed away quietly shortly after giving birth. She was raised by Celioll herself from a young age, receiving the most rigorous elven noble education, especially in the cultivation of her magical skills, which her father devoted a great deal of effort to. In the end, she did indeed grow into an outstanding spellcaster, and even became one of her father's main advisors in political affairs.

To put it bluntly, from the very beginning, she was groomed to be the family successor.

She later married and had two sons: Amedil and Eladil.

During the Great Sundering, Moras's agents attempted to lure some of Celio's mages down a dark path. In the remote and desolate region of Safri, the sorcerer Duruchi was discovered trying to teach dark magic to corrupted elves. These rebellious sorcerers were swiftly hunted down.

To protect the young apprentices from corruption, they were sent to Safision, the capital of Safision, a floating city, to complete their magical training under the close supervision of Serioll and his colleagues.

Unfortunately, despite Celio's repeated warnings about the dangers of black magic, his grandson Amedil developed a strong interest in witchcraft, believing that such power could be used to fight against Duruci. This led to a fierce argument between grandfather and grandson, with Irene repeatedly intervening to mediate and persuade her father to understand Amedil's feelings. She knew her son had flaws, but he was brave and eager to prove himself, wanting to make a name for himself in the fight against his corrupted race.

However, she herself was drawn to the power of dark magic. Together with her son Amedil and some sorcerers and apprentices, she secretly studied forbidden texts and performed blasphemous rituals in a secluded chamber, concealing her presence with protective spells. While Serio was busy hunting down heretics and Moras agents outside of Safriars, they quietly delved deeper into the study of dark magic, gaining terrifying forbidden powers.

But in the end, their scheme was exposed. With his sense of magic and his intimate knowledge of Safi's countenance, Celioll found their hiding place.

Seeing Amedil present disappointed him but was not unexpected, but when he saw his daughter's blood-stained face, he felt indescribable pain.

Despite facing his closest relatives, he was determined to stop them.

Faced with the impending trial, the mages opened a pre-prepared portal and quietly departed, leaving only Elenas and Amedil behind.

His mother urged him to flee with her, but Amedil insisted on staying to fight his grandfather. Confident that he was no longer the same as before and believed he could defeat Serriol, he persuaded his mother to go first, promising to catch up later.

Irene hesitated for a long time, struggling between maternal love and fear of her father. In the end, fear prevailed, and she stepped into the portal, where she was swallowed by the thick fog.

No sooner had she left than a magical duel erupted between grandfather and grandson. Amedil, aided by Deha, displayed power far exceeding his grandfather's expectations, nearly killing him at one point. But Celioll distracted him, causing him to lose control while manipulating dangerous energy, ultimately dying from the magic he himself released.

Upon learning of her son's death, she vowed to take revenge on her father.

Then, something even more abstract came along!
After escaping Safi'ion, she and the other rogue sorcerers joined the Duruch, spreading chaos and destruction through dark magic within Safre. They gained the support of Moras, who imparted more dark knowledge to them. Driven by a thirst for power, she claimed countless lives in her pursuit of the highest levels of dark magic, even mastering the language of darkness, the language of demons and chaos, necessary for performing some of the most horrific rituals.

However, the consequences of frequent use of Deha gradually became apparent. Her body began to decay, and her arms developed an unnatural necrosis. Her nails turned black, the tips became grayish-black, and she gradually lost her sense of touch.

It felt as if some evil entity was gnawing at her stomach, robbing her of her strength and will. Only through sacrifices and incantations could she barely alleviate the corruption, yet even so, black marks remained on her fingertips and between her nails, impossible to eradicate.

When her betrayal was exposed, the mages of Saffre, under the leadership of Celioll, hunted her and her associates. The war lasted for years, with the corrupted mages ravaging Saffre's lands, only to be defeated one by one. In the end, she was the only survivor. She chose to flee to her birthplace, preparing to face her father's imminent arrival.

She blamed Amedil's death on her father and vowed to pay with blood.

Despite her best efforts, she was ultimately defeated in the battle of magical control. As the castle began to crumble, as she ventured deeper into its base, she heard her father calling her name, his voice echoing through the corridors and staircases. But she did not waver; as she ran, she slammed an iron gate shut and rushed into a crudely carved underground chamber.

He chanted the prepared incantation, and a spell was silently released. The rock walls began to tremble, and the ground shook violently. Then, with a deafening roar, the cave ceiling collapsed, sealing off the passage behind him.

She turned into a secret passage deep into the crater, fleeing towards Nagarius. This was not the ending she had envisioned, but she was still alive. She wasn't so arrogant as to be unable to accept defeat; she knew the day of revenge would eventually come.

She continued to fight for Malekith and Moras throughout the remainder of the war, eventually becoming one of their most important forces. However, in that decisive battle, the Asur legions led by King Caledo I defeated the Duruch army, personally commanded by the Witch King, forcing Malekith to flee back to Tal Anlek to avoid complete annihilation.

This victory almost sealed Asur's fate in the war, which was intolerable to Malekith.

And then, the sky collapsed and the earth cracked.

At first, the warlocks were shocked by this mad act, as it could lead to the complete destruction of the world, but they convinced themselves that the plan was feasible and eventually agreed to join.

The only one who expressed concern was Elenas, who worried that her father and his followers would come to stop them. But Moras replied with a cold laugh, "By the time they realize it, it will be too late. Even if they come, they won't be able to stop them."

As the ritual began, Elenas chanted incantations repeatedly, both deceiving and threatening the being from the other side of reality. The black spots on her skin continued to spread, her hands turned ebony, and corruption seeped into her body through her dark veins, her bare arms covered with bulging veins.

Her lips and gums were filled with Deha, the pain stinging her eyes, her tears turning into drops of blood. Her long hair writhed like snakes, sparks flying from its ends. She saw madness: trees made of finger bones, clouds raining down liquid silver, and the howls, shrieks, and screams of demons echoing through the chamber.

A hunched demon with scarlet skin, an abnormally long head, and deathly white eyes suddenly appeared, gliding and hovering in the air. Its thin limbs were taut, and it held a blood-dripping bronze sword in its hand.

She screamed and backed away. The demon stared at her with empty eyes. She stumbled in terror, her hand brushing against the runes she had drawn on the ground.

The runes were destroyed, and the energy went out of control. The rampaging energy ravaged the chamber, smashing against the walls, overturning the bricks, and striking her violently, penetrating her body and tearing at her hair and teeth.

As more demons emerged from the chaos, she struggled to her feet, tears of blood streaming from her eyes. A tar-like substance gushed from her mouth, suffocating her. She clutched her throat, screaming in agony, her blood vessels bursting, and Deha gushed out like boiling sludge.

She felt her bones shatter, letting out a scream as if she were being held captive by viscous fluid, before finally collapsing face down, trying to shield her head with her broken arm. The demons swarmed her, tearing her soul and flesh apart with their fangs.

Duruci is someone who repeatedly tests the edge of the abyss.

They stepped out into the darkness, then quickly withdrew, repeatedly testing and observing, constantly confirming where the boundary truly lay. They knew when to use Deha and when they had to switch to the Eight Winds. They knew how to erase the marks left by black magic and how to eliminate the spiritual corruption brought about by Deha.

They were like dancers gliding along the edge in a battle against the abyss, dangerous yet never crossing the line.

As for those who crossed the line, they definitely crashed; these sisters are a prime example.

She wasn't testing the waters; she plunged headlong into it, completely immersed in it. Without any hesitation, without any reservations, one could even say she was utterly captivated by the powerful yet forbidden force, like a moth drawn to a flame chasing a dream, only to burn herself to ashes.

Her screams eventually faded into the void, but the ritual was still a success.

Because she was not the only participant.

Malekith, Moras, Drusara, Ashniel, Urazio, and Anasara were all involved.

Her father, Serioll, eventually arrived at Death Island, sacrificed his life, stabilized the swirling vortex that was about to go berserk, and saved the world from the brink of collapse.

Morayig's fate was never kind.

At the beginning of the Great Vortex, Serioll, who was not part of the plan, eventually entered the Great Vortex, following his mentor and living and dying with the all-consuming torrent.

Serioll is dead, Elenas is dead, Amedil is dead.

But Eladil, the second son whom Elenas disliked and who possessed only mediocre talent, survived. He had no extraordinary talent, no dazzling resume, and for a time, he was almost forgotten by the entire family.

But this very shadow, continuing the bloodline of the Tyriolan family, quietly took root in the land of the Kingdom of Saffre. The seventh Phoenix King—Bell-Khadis—was a descendant of Eladil.

A silent person is not useless; even a glimmer of light can illuminate the long road ahead.

After gazing at the Staff of Eladil for a moment, Darkus turned his head slightly, his gaze returning to the direction of the Book of Hoss. By this time, the crowd that had been watching had dispersed.

Only four people remained before the yellowed pages of the book: Arelani, Salir, Asanok, and Hemara. The first three were talking in hushed tones, while Hemara stood there silently, staring intently at the pages as if they held some key to unlocking the mysteries of the world.

Dakos glanced at her, then shook his head.

The Book of Hoth is a good thing, but to the spellcasters who came with him, it's really... just so-so?
Marlene studied at the White Tower and later went to Elsin Alvin and the continent of Lustia, where she learned more profound and practical knowledge from the Slan Priests; while Alisa and Liv exchanged ideas with Master Xia for a long time; Drusara and Colonia also conducted in-depth studies in Lustia.

Among these people, the only one who seems a bit inexperienced is Hemara. She did go to Ashriel, but her main task was execution and management, not learning.

Therefore, if the Book of Hoss is a textbook, then what this group of people possessed was already a practical notebook.

Afterwards, Dakous scanned the scene again, and soon his gaze settled on a short distance away.

Raine, Cecil Hal, and Springtwin are gathered around a staff, seemingly... playing with abstraction?

He raised an eyebrow, and the next second, his expression completely transformed into the standard look of an elderly person on the subway looking at their phone.

What are these three up to?

As he walked over, he saw Springtwin solemnly fiddling with his fingers, making a gesture resembling a metal salute. Seeing Dakous approach, Springtwin grinned and showed him the gesture he had already made.

Dakos was taken aback for a moment, then his lips twitched, and he couldn't help but make the same gesture in response.

However, he didn't shout anything like "Long live rock and roll!"

Although cultural activities in the society of Duruci have been flourishing and filling many gaps in daily life, rock music? That thing hasn't really taken off in Nagarus yet, and is temporarily absent.

His gaze then fell on the staff.

This time, there was no need for Ashantir to introduce it; he recognized its identity at a glance—the Staff of Cyos.

Cyos was a supreme scholar, one of the most outstanding spellcasters in the White Tower, and also Belanar's mentor and friend. On his deathbed, he solemnly entrusted this powerful magical weapon, which he had personally crafted and which embodied his life's work and understanding, to his apprentice.

“No wonder…” he muttered, his voice barely audible, yet carrying a sense of sudden realization.

He suddenly remembered that when he met Belanar yesterday, the latter was neither carrying a staff nor wearing the magic sword that symbolized his status and power.

Now, everything is clear.

So, this staff is displayed here as a precious exhibit, as for the sword...

How did he recognize the staff at a glance?

The answer is actually quite simple: the decoration at the top of the staff is so unique that it's unforgettable.

A metallic right hand is fixed at the top, its gesture a standard metallic salute, and in that hand, an exquisitely crafted crescent moon is held aloft. The crescent moon seems to hang horizontally in the void, its two ends pointing high towards the sky, as if telling some mysterious magical rhythm.

This design is unique to the Staff of Cyos.

After looking at it for a moment, Darkus continued walking forward, his gaze drawn to the left, where a magical artifact of great charm was displayed—the Star Cloak.

It and the staff, one on the left and one on the right, complement each other.

This cloak is no ordinary fabric; it is not woven with mortal threads, but rather with rare materials and energy. Intricate runes and flowing starlight illuminate it, each pattern symbolizing ancient virtues: wisdom, patience, and self-control. It is not merely an ornament, but a mirror reflecting the mage's inner balance.

The cloak is also inscribed with a warning: "Violence is not the path to wisdom."

It is said that anyone who dares to attack the cloak's wielder will immediately feel an immense burden, as if the weight of the entire world is pressing down on their shoulders. This oppressive feeling can even devour one's will and killing intent, plunging the attacker into pain and hesitation, ultimately leading to regret.

This cloak also belonged to Belanar and was one of his personal pieces of equipment. But unfortunately, it ultimately failed to protect its owner.

No magical creation is omnipotent, and even the most brilliant light cannot illuminate all the shadows of fate.

As he continued on, he expected to see another piece from the Berlanar set—the Book of the Phoenix—when he reached the next exhibit.

This book is said to record the ancient myths of Asuyan, the most shocking of which is an allegory: from birth, growth, glory, decline, and finally destruction.

The rise and fall, glory and disgrace of an era are all contained within it.

However... that book wasn't in the display case.

Perhaps because the Book of the Phoenix is ​​too sinister, touching on some overly dangerous concepts, or perhaps because it possesses some ineffable characteristics, it was not placed in the exhibition area, but rather in a more secluded location.

Even so, in Darkus's view, this exhibit was even more sinister than the Book of the Phoenix.

The moment he first saw the exhibit, his expression became extremely strange.

"Raine." (End of Chapter)