Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

“Darkus? Renn?” Liv slowly withdrew her gaze from the heavy pages of the book, her eyes turning questioningly to the two who had suddenly appeared.

"Hehehehe..." Darkus's eyes suddenly lit up, flashing with a light that was hard to tell whether it was excitement or a wicked sense of humor. The expression on his face turned extremely horrifying in an instant, and a malicious smile appeared on his lips. The strange laughter escaped from his throat like a hoarse string, carrying a hint of eeriness.

As he laughed, he slowly extended his hands, his palms hooked and his knuckles slightly bent. His movements were slow yet full of pressure, making a grabbing gesture as if he were about to pounce, like a ghostly hunter lurking in the shadows, toying with the fear of his prey.

Standing to the side, Renn silently watched this scene, his expression filled with a helpless "you're here again" attitude. He rolled his eyes speechlessly, then took a step back with a look of disgust, as if to tell Rieff through his actions that he had nothing to do with this madman.

He knew that Darkus was still the same Darkus, except... he had relapsed again.

"You! You're not Darkus...who are you?" Liv slammed the book shut in her hand, holding it to her chest as if facing a formidable enemy. Her eyes were filled with fear, and her voice trembled slightly. "What...what are you going to do?"

Her timid appearance and her subconscious backward leaning motion were like a little lamb that had accidentally wandered into a hunter's trap—pure white, helpless, and utterly defenseless.

“I am the ghost that dwells here…” Darkus lowered his voice, deliberately emphasizing the hoarseness and low tone, a twisted smile on his lips as he spoke, his pace slow and sinister, “You… shouldn’t have flipped through that book.”

As he spoke, he slowly approached, his posture exaggerated like that of a ghost actor in some kind of stage play.

"I... feel uneasy," Liver suddenly murmured, her voice softer than her previous fear, yet heavier.

Dakos stopped abruptly, his expression quickly returning to calm, filled with seriousness and concern. He tilted his head slightly and asked in a steady tone.

"What's wrong? When did this start?"

“When you arranged for me to go to the Kingdom of Avalon to meet the Eternal Queen,” Liv said softly, her gaze somewhat unfocused.

Upon hearing this, Darkus's expression immediately darkened. What had been a playful banter vanished instantly, replaced by a serious deliberation and vigilance.

Liv has always been an ordinary person.

Her spellcasting skills are among the best of all elven spellcasters. More importantly, her divination abilities are almost unparalleled in the elven world—accurate, profound, and mysterious—often able to foresee impending storms.

However, this ability failed.

Since her encounter with Darkus, Liv has found that her divination results have gradually become blurred, distorted, and even completely disappear. It's not that her technique is flawed, but rather that the source has been interfered with. Darkus's existence is like an unpredictable rift, tearing all possible futures to shreds.

He is an unpredictable variable; his fate leaps off the predetermined track and can even influence the destinies of others.

Dacules never consulted divination, calendars, or celestial bodies, nor did he consult auspicious or inauspicious days. For him, simply doing was enough; success or failure depended solely on himself.

Those who hesitate, those who are hesitant, and those who rehearse are not enough to lead a team forward.

But this doesn't mean that this "sixth sense" is illusory. On the contrary, for a powerful person like Liv, this premonition often signifies a fork in the road of fate that is about to appear.

Every fluctuation deserves to be taken seriously.

"Something's going to happen?!" Darkus blurted out, his eyes fixed on Liver's face.

Liver slowly shook her head, her face heavy, but her expression was more one of confusion and unease, indicating that she herself could not make an accurate judgment.

Darkus subconsciously turned to look at Renn, who also looked solemn. After a moment of contemplation, Renn nodded seriously.

"What could possibly happen?" he muttered to himself, his eyes filled with cautious contemplation.

Like what happened in Imperial Year 2300? Nakari opens a portal, and Dorian leads his forces to launch a surprise attack on the Eternal Queen?

The problem is that at this point in time, Nakari is still trapped in the rift of the vortex, unless its escape has been pre-triggered by human intervention or the forces of fate, or unless Kaera Mensha has deceived him.

Moreover, even if Nakari were to escape, where would the raiding force come from? It would be no easy task for the minions of the Chaos Gods to penetrate Asur's system and infiltrate the Kingdom of Avalon. Without an inside accomplice, precise coordinates, and timely guidance, success would be virtually impossible. And what if they relied on the power of Duruch?

No, that can be ruled out directly.

Darkus and Malekith had discussed the issue of the Eternal Queen in depth more than once before. Ultimately, they concluded that it should be left unresolved.

Just like dealing with overly sensitive and far-reaching situations, let things cool down first, and then look for an opportunity.

Therefore, it is highly unlikely that Duruci's forces would launch a surprise attack on the Eternal Queen without authorization. This would not be in their current strategic interests, nor would it align with Malekith's current political stance.

The current Eternal Queen is not the later Eleventh Elariri, but her mother, who was poisoned by Julian, also known as Italis, in another timeline.

Julian was merely a tool of Malekith in this matter, just as he was in many other things.

However, the situation has now changed.

Today, Itaris returns with Malekith to Flame Isle to bid farewell to the Phoenix King.

Unless Malekith goes crazy and suddenly changes his attitude after the White Lion Guard incident was handled properly, and does something secretive in private to send Itaris to the Kingdom of Avalon so that he can carry out that poisoning again.

But this is clearly illogical.

As time went on, it became an open secret throughout Ulthuan that the Kingdom of Ithain had sided with Duruch. In the current delicate and fragile situation, if Itaris were to actually appear in the Kingdom of Avalon, meet with the Eternal Queen, and carry out an assassination, it would be tantamount to suicide.

Putting everything else aside, are those Eternal Hands of the Kingdom of Avalon pushovers? Would they allow someone with obvious political leanings to get close to the Queen?
Or... from another perspective, could Itaris and the Eternal Queen have some kind of secret romantic relationship? Could they have bypassed all precautions and successfully contacted and poisoned her through clandestine communication?
That's too far-fetched.

More importantly, what exactly does Marekis gain from doing this?
In Dakota's understanding, Malekith at this stage is by no means a madman. He was once a madman, but that is in the past. Under Dakota's interference, those points that were originally destined to lead to fanaticism and extremism have been gradually corrected.

After successfully being crowned Phoenix King, Malekith began to move on to another stage.

He is now suppressing and correcting his impulses.

It's like going from "darkening" to "whitewashing".

He no longer charged around barefoot and acted recklessly, but began to wear boots, carefully considering each step so as not to soil the shoes that symbolized power.

The most representative evidence is his handling of the White Lion Guard incident: calm, precise, decisive, and even leaving room for maneuver.

Therefore, at this stage, the person who least wants anything to happen to the Eternal Queen is actually Malekith himself.

If something really happens to the Eternal Queen, it will be like mud falling into your crotch—not excrement, but even harder to clean than excrement.

That would immediately inflame the emotions of the unconvinced elven nobles and kingdoms who were still observing, and shake the fragile alliance structure that had just been established.

Even if Malekith is not involved in this matter, he will still be regarded as the mastermind.

Egileser? He would do something like that?
Darkus didn't believe he had the guts, and what benefit would he gain from it? Power? Status? Or chaos out of control? What he wanted was survival, to weather the storm, to land safely after ruling Ulthuan, to retire in seclusion, and to break the fate of previous rulers of Egileser who ultimately died.

In his heart, Liv, the Twilight sisters, and Cecin-Hal were the most reliable and trustworthy people he could rely on. Their abilities, judgment, and loyalty were the reasons he dared to send them to the Kingdom of Avalon.

They are also the best and most suitable representatives to come forward at present.

Two wives meeting one wife?
Unless Lilith pulls another stunt and instills a new set of "oracles" in Levi, the outcome could be completely unpredictable.

But here's the problem: Lilith's antics are never aimless; she wouldn't kill people just for fun. Every action she takes points to a purpose, a motivation she deems worthwhile to change the course of fate.

So, what is the target this time?
Is it to prevent the elves from achieving unification? Or is it to try and stop a more terrifying future from being triggered prematurely?
This……

"Have you been having any strange dreams lately?" Thinking of this, Darkus suddenly spoke, his tone calm, but his eyes were already fixed on the Lilith statue not far away.

“No!” Liver responded without hesitation, her tone crisp and decisive, as if drawing a line of defense for herself, or as if denying some unknown calling.

Darkus nodded slightly, but his expression remained unchanged. The problem was clearly not solved; the clues had simply been temporarily interrupted.

Has Alohan lost control? Has his inner darkness been amplified? Has he suddenly had a mental outburst and shot the Eternal Queen with an arrow?
Darkus remained skeptical, not believing it was practically possible. Alohan could certainly lose control, but that would be triggered by certain conditions—such as the death of any one of Liv, Nestera, or Cecin-Hal, or some kind of extreme emotional trauma. Simply put, a sufficiently severe emotional breakdown would be necessary for Alohan to truly 'lose control'.

He does not believe that there are any other activation conditions.

The idea that the forests of Avalon would amplify Alohan's emotions and drive her to extremes is far-fetched. If the forest were to influence emotions, wouldn't Atholloren be jumping in to protest?
So, Cecil Hal suddenly went mad? But what was the reason? What were the conditions? Did he go mad out of nowhere? That's just illogical.

“When all other possibilities are ruled out, the one that remains, however unbelievable, is the truth.” After going around in circles, Darkus repeated what he had just said in the greatsword exhibition hall.

"I have the answer."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Liv.

"Do you have any guesses?"

“You know I’m not familiar with Ulthuan,” Liv replied. “If I could, I wouldn’t even want to meet the Eternal Queen; I’d rather go on an expedition with Alisa.” She opened her left hand, the one not holding the book, as if stating an unchangeable fact. “But… I am indeed the most suitable candidate at the moment.”

Darkus nodded, acknowledging her judgment, then tilted his head slightly to one side, his gaze falling on Renn.

"What about you?" he asked.

“A cult?!” After frowning and thinking for a moment, Renn finally spoke, his tone hesitant.

Darkus raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes. He and Renn were on the same page, seemingly unconnected yet perfectly in sync. After going around in circles, there was only one possibility—a cult, not the Pleasure Cult, but the Slaanesh Cult.

In this chain of interests, Slaanesh has benefited the most.

The conversation about Slaanesh, the Eternal Queen, Malekith, and Darkus could go on for days and nights, which perfectly fits the motivation.

“There are still boats in Aurora Bay. I’ll coordinate something after we leave the library.” His tone was decisive after he made up his mind.

He will not personally go to the Kingdom of Avalon, nor should the Duruci faction be present there—this is a political red line that cannot be crossed.

Therefore, the best arrangement is to let the Hoss faction handle this matter. Even though the Hoss faction is now starting to take sides, they are still the secret police of Ausuan.

With Liv, the Scholar, the Spellsword, the Twilight Sisters, Cecin-Hal, and the Sword Saints and the Avalon Sisters, this is the most elite combination that can be assembled so far, covering melee, air, and ground combat, as well as physical and magical attacks.

What if something still goes wrong...

What's wrong? Did you farm a big monster?
Even if something really goes wrong in the end, it will be the fault of the Eternal Queen faction and the Hoss faction.

Moreover, to put it bluntly, the Eternal Queen's misfortune is something Darkus both wants to see and doesn't want to see.

His inner world was complex, even contradictory.

Perhaps... a great demon really did appear? Then Nestra died in battle, Alohan and Cecin-Hal went berserk and attacked the Eternal Queen, or Cecin-Hal died in battle and fell from the sky, crushing the Eternal Queen to death—a typical elven prophecy narrative structure...

That's why Dakotas hated prophecy and divination.

“My lord, Springtwin…” Renn suddenly spoke up.

Dakos did not respond immediately, but instead turned his gaze to Liv.

“Illusion, human form,” Liv replied calmly, her answer swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

When she gave this reply, Dakotas spread his hands, a look on his face that was hard to tell whether it was relief or satisfaction.

That's why he likes Liver.

A blend of emotion and reason, and reason within emotion. She might hesitate or waver on minor matters, but on truly important ones, she is never ambiguous. She is the kind of ruthless person who can remain calm and make decisions in the eye of the storm—a truly ruthless person, through and through. "Astronomy and astrology, written in the Lizardman script, astrological calculations of the orbits of certain planets and satellites, and their relationship to the periodic fluctuations of polar longitude and latitude."

After things came to a close, Liver gently pointed to the bookshelf, her tone carrying both a thoughtful exploration and a subtle sense of helplessness.

"All of them?" Darkus pointed to the bookshelf, his brow furrowing slightly, his tone tinged with disappointment, even a hint of dejection. He had expected to find some groundbreaking clues here, but instead…

“No… part of it is.” Liv shook her head, then added, “The elven scholars’ understanding of astronomy and astrology is partly a combination of the two.” She sighed, her tone tinged with regret.

Dakos didn't say anything more, but silently took a book from the shelf and flipped through a few pages at random.

The author of this book is Misérables Silver Stag.

He glanced through the book and immediately concluded that it was a masterpiece that combined the astronomy and astrology of the lizardmen and elves, achieving a theoretical balance by integrating the two disciplines and allowing them to complement and reinforce each other. The book was rigorously structured, richly supported by evidence, and logically sound.

This made him understand why Miserion chose to remain neutral and why he stayed in his own territory.

Divination—a discipline with a long and complicated history, is notoriously imprecise. Practitioners are often regarded as charlatans by serious scholars focused on pure academic pursuits, and even become the laughingstock of the community.

But in elven society, there were two exceptions—Morath and Liv. Their prophetic abilities were repeatedly verified, piercing through the fog to hit the essence of the truth time and time again, making them one of the very few recognized 'true prophets'.

“It’s pointless!” After reading a page, River shook her head slightly, her eyes flashing with an emotion deeper than dissatisfaction. “But it gave me a hint… Perhaps I should take some time to write a book to enrich this place.”

“You’re arrogant!” Darkus laughed, his smile tinged with admiration.

If someone else had said that, he might not have agreed, and might even have made a sarcastic remark. But Liver said it? He agreed. Liver, now, certainly had the right to say that.

During her time in Esororen, Liv's divination abilities were already outstanding, earning her the title of "Prophet of Esororen." Although her divination became practically unusable after meeting Darkus, she did not give up but continued to study and further her knowledge.

After leaving Azsorloth and arriving in Azsera, she soared like a warhorse unleashed.

Astronomy was a specialty of the Slan priests, and Tito Ikow, a priest of the spirit lizards, was one of the best among them.

As far as he knew, with the help of the god Ha, Liv had traveled back and forth between the City of the Moon and La Plata quite often over the past fifty years.

Liv is undoubtedly the number one in this field, at least within the Elf system, she is an indisputable figure.

"I'm just stating the facts," Liver said calmly, without a trace of vanity, only cool objectivity, as if she were simply stating that it was raining today.

"This is the Liver I know."

Darkus smiled, pointed at Liver, and thus acknowledged that Liver had done a good job of putting on airs.

After pausing for a moment, the three continued on their way. The instant they turned a corner, Levi vanished from Darkus's sight, as if he had never existed, as if the entire discussion had been nothing but an illusion.

"Looks like it's just the two of us again." Darkus grinned, his tone relaxed, then he looked at Renn and made a "you decide" gesture. "Should we go forward or backward?"

"Go forward!" Renn said decisively.

“Yes, sir.” Darkus immediately mimicked Rein’s usual serious tone.

There were no stairs, no bookshelves; they were lost in a maze. The corridor became repetitive and chaotic, with passages one after another, as if trapped in a state of being rejected by the structure itself. The places they walked through seemed to subtly change behind them, and even the air began to feel oppressive.

However, after the next corner, they found themselves in a room they had never been to before.

The room was small, but unusually quiet.

Dakos noticed a small lantern lit in the room, its soft yellow light gently illuminating the table and dispelling some of the darkness. Two books sat on the table: one a collection of ancient poems about Aenarion and Caledo, the other a history of Safre, with several pages folded at the corners, as if it had been read many times.

In one corner of the table, there was a beautifully crafted but weathered chessboard. The pieces on the board had been moved, and the game was incomplete, as if the players had just left and would soon return to continue their unfinished game.

"Take a break," Darkus said softly, glancing around.

Having said that, he walked to a chair and sat down, casually picking up the book on the history of Saffre from the table. Raine, however, showed interest in the ancient poetry collection and flipped through it. When Darkus opened the book on Saffre, he discovered an even thinner scroll lying beneath it.

He raised an eyebrow, put down the book in his hand, and pulled out the scroll that had been pressed down.

"A spell?" He glanced at it and murmured to himself.

"Yes." A strange but not harsh voice came from not far away.

He and Ryan exchanged a glance, their expressions hardening. The next second, they both looked in the corner of the room—the source of the sound.

That was a shadowy area that the light could not illuminate, as if darkness had solidified and taken shape, concealing some being that was watching them.

"Damn it, a fake ghost, we've run into a real one." Darkus muttered under his breath, having already stood up from his chair. His tone was a mixture of helplessness and a kind of resigned acceptance of being pushed along by fate.

The next second, the little lantern went out with a "poof," plunging the room into a brief darkness.

Darkus heard the sound of Raine drawing the Blade of Reality, crisp and resolute, especially clear in the silence.

In an instant, the little lantern lit up again, and the light returned.

However, the environment has changed.

The tables and chairs were still the same, but the surrounding space had subtly transformed. It was still a room, but unlike any room he had ever seen before, it looked as if it had been built by elves, yet it didn't quite fit the typical style of Asur.

Although the overall style remains elegant, many parts appear rough and unfinished, with unfinished edges and overly straight lines, as if it were a work hastily completed by a group of less skilled craftsmen under time pressure.

Scroll racks and bookshelves line the walls, densely displaying various documents, files, and manuscripts. The atmosphere of the room shifts from the scent of books to a strange sense of calm, as if history has been frozen in time.

"Don't be nervous." The figure spoke again, the voice coming from the shadows, and then slowly walked out.

He was neither a mummy, nor a lich, nor a vampire, but a ghost—a ghost dressed in robes completely different in style from those of the present era. His back was ramrod straight, his face dignified, his temperament gentle, and his expression composed. Even in his ghostly form, he exuded a strange power that combined majesty and approachability.

"Let me introduce myself, Darkus Helban." Darkus spoke first, before the ghost could introduce himself, with a smile on his face, his eyes alert but not hostile, and his tone relaxed, breaking the deadlock.

As he approached, he generously extended his right hand.

The ghost paused noticeably, as if he hadn't expected the contact to begin in this way, but that didn't stop him from extending his own hand.

One hand, real and one virtual, clasped together in mid-air, as if breaking down the barrier between dimensions and life and death.

“Bell-Khaddis Terioran,” the ghost said slowly.

Holy crap? This is... a lucky encounter triggered?

Dakos was taken aback, his heart jolted, and his gaze suddenly turned fervent.

Bell-Khaddis Terioran.

The seventh Phoenix King, a legendary figure who oversaw the construction of the White Tower of Hoth, is considered one of the greatest spellcasters since Caledor. He was not only a master of magic but also an integrator of politics and culture, and one of the founders of the magical system.

And now, he stands here, deep within this almost infinitely sprawling, time-space-intertwined White Tower Library, conversing with Dakota.

Darkus slowly dropped the usual playful and teasing expression from his face, and the smile on his lips vanished along with this strange sense of heaviness, his expression becoming more serious than ever before.

He realized that this encounter was not accidental.

It was not a sudden, serendipitous encounter, nor a cruel joke of fate, nor a mere coincidence.

This is a guidance of destiny, a convergence of history and the future in this moment.

"Have you been staying here the whole time?" Darkus asked.

According to Marlene, the library is like a guardian angel overseeing its overall operation. A guardian angel that is not based on faith and has no clear ideology, it does not interfere or judge, but simply gives silently.

Combining this statement with the various strange, extraordinary, and cyclical things he had seen and felt before, Dakotas could almost conclude that there was indeed some kind of guardian spirit in the library of the White Tower.

Bel-Khaddis, the architect of the White Tower of Hosse, played the role of this guardian deity.

There's nothing wrong with it.

Essentially, the White Tower is a giant guiding stone, a lighthouse that guides souls, memories, time, and knowledge back on track. And he—Bell-Khadis—was indeed dead, but his soul remained here, choosing to guard it.

“Yes.” Bell-Khaddis nodded, his tone steady with a hint of gentle calm. Then, he extended a hand and pointed to the chair beside the table. “A seat?”

As Darkus sat down, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Bel-Khadis's next move surprised him slightly; the ghost actually reached out and picked up the scroll on the table, firmly holding it in his hand.

Yes, he was caught by a ghost.

This is not a feint of a spirit penetrating a physical body, nor is it a mentally triggered illusion; it is genuine physical contact.

A thought immediately popped into Darkus's mind: This wasn't a ghost touching a physical body, but rather—magic.

This also made him reconsider the Asur scholars' evaluation of Bel-Khaddis. Perhaps they were not exaggerating. He may indeed be the greatest spellcaster since Caledo, the kind of spellcasting giant worthy of being worshipped by future generations and forever enshrined in history.

“The contents of this were written by Caledo himself,” Bel-Khaddis said softly. “It contains incantations written in his own hand.”

Upon hearing this, Dakotas did not show any joy, nor did he jump up and shout something foolish like "I'm rich!" He simply nodded slightly, his emotions remaining largely unchanged.

He understood that this scroll was undoubtedly a treasure—a true treasure. But unfortunately, he was not a spellcaster; he had no second perspective and could not truly understand or utilize its contents.

He could only read the words, but could not access the magical structure within them.

Bell-Khadis put down the scroll and his gaze fell on Darkus's face.

“Actually… you shouldn’t be here.” His tone was calm, but his words were as powerful as a thunderclap.

"Why? You don't welcome me?"

“No.” Bell-Khaddis waved his hand, his tone more even. “If I didn’t welcome you, you wouldn’t be here. Sorry, what I said earlier was ambiguous; what I meant was…”

“Yes,” Darkus replied calmly, “things have changed.”

He wasn't speculating; he was stating a fact. He understood what Bell-Khaddis wanted to say, but the former Phoenix King was still hesitating, still weighing his options.

So he revealed the truth to the other party.

Bell-Khadis glanced at him, then let out a heavy sigh—a sigh tinged with mixed emotions, like dust that had settled for a thousand years being stirred up again.

“Yes, change,” he murmured. “Your presence here signifies change; the future has been altered.”

So... is there anything I can do for you?

After speaking, Bel-Khadis looked at Darkus, his gaze so profound it seemed to pierce through the river of time. (End of Chapter)