Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

“Books, papers, stone tablets, scrolls,” Darkus said unhurriedly.

“For example?” Bell-Khadis asked softly, not questioning, but waiting for a specific answer.

"The most authoritative agricultural knowledge in Ausuan?" Dakous asked in a calm tone, as if he were talking about something extremely ordinary.

The next second, a book with a bright green cover and delicate vine patterns on the cover appeared silently in the center of the table, as if it had appeared out of thin air.

In a secluded corner of the library, Alisa, who was engrossed in reading, suddenly froze.

She watched helplessly as the book she had been holding, the agricultural book she was studying about the crop growth cycle under moonlight, vanished without warning right before her eyes.

It wasn't blown away by the wind, nor was it taken away by anyone; rather, it vanished right before her eyes, as if drawn away by some invisible force, with a whoosh.

It disappeared... it really just disappeared like that.

She stood there, her hand still holding the book, her eyebrows slowly furrowing.

At this moment, Dakotas was staring at the book on the table, but he did not reach out to open it, nor did he show any great interest.

It's unnecessary and meaningless.

He knew the book must be of high quality, and might even theoretically solve some of the agricultural problems in the elven world, but that was not his area of ​​expertise. Everyone has their own area of ​​specialization, and he was not a specialist in agriculture and animal husbandry.

He has more important things to do than reading this book.

"Change a place?"

"For example?" Bell-Khadis responded with a question, but his expression already showed some understanding.

“The place we came in from is quite nice.” Darkus smiled. “It’s spacious, and my companions who came with me can sit down, discuss, and brainstorm. The atmosphere is also quite… relaxed.”

This is not simply a change of venue, but rather preparation for some kind of exchange that is about to take place.

Bell-Khadis nodded; he understood what Darkus meant—not just a change of location, but a change of timing and stage.

"Are you available?" Darkus asked again.

Bell-Khadis paused for a moment, then gave a helpless smile. Clearly, he hadn't fully grasped Darkus's meaning, but now that he understood, a hint of humor crept onto his face.

“Of course,” he replied, with a hint of teasing in his voice.

As soon as the words were spoken, the surrounding environment began to change dramatically. The space seemed to be gently pushed by an invisible force, and the interplay of light and shadow was quietly reshaped.

The White Tower spellcasters, who had been engrossed in reading and whispering, all looked up as they felt a warm and solemn energy flow through the entire hall.

The next moment, their gazes froze, all fixed on a single point.

Three figures quietly appeared beside them. They recognized two of them, as they had just passed by them not long ago. The two figures were friendly and had a powerful presence.

And the third one... the one who made everyone hold their breath instantly.

“Let me introduce you.” Darkus stood up, his tone neither fast nor slow, yet exceptionally clear, “Bell-Khadis Thalioland.”

His words were like thunder in the ears.

That's Bell Khadija.

The seventh Phoenix King in the history of the White Tower, the chief builder of the White Tower of Hoss, and the greatest spellcaster since Caledo.

Faced with a crowd of stunned stares, Bel-Khadis did not show arrogance. Instead, he gave a wry smile, then raised his hand and waved slightly. His expression was friendly and his demeanor elegant. At this moment, he seemed more like a gentle and refined mentor than a ghost.

“Excuse me, everyone, I’m sorry to bother you,” Darkus said again, his tone casual yet carrying a certain invisible power. “It might be a bit noisy here for a while.”

“Yes.” Bell-Khaddis nodded in agreement, his expression calm.

The spellcasters of the White Tower finally realized what was happening. They didn't panic or make a fuss; instead, they all smiled with understanding. They didn't continue their investigation, nor did they choose to leave. Instead, they quietly gazed at Bel-Khadis—like mortals gazing upon a deity for the first time.

This is like...

Imagine you're sitting in a café reading a book in the 21st century, and someone suddenly says to you, "We're going to have a seminar about Einstein." Just as you're nodding, the door opens, and... Einstein himself walks in, sits down next to you, and says, "Want to chat?"

Yes, that's the feeling.

A moment later, the companions who had been scattered in different areas of the library appeared one after another and gathered around the long table again.

With the appearance of Bel-Khadis, the tasks previously assigned by Darkus became obsolete. They no longer needed to run around, examine each shelf one by one, and constantly compare.

For any question, just one sentence, contact Bell-Khaddis.

As the guardian of the library, his understanding of its structure and contents is akin to that of an omniscient administrator. He is the core of this place, a living data system, a walking catalog of thoughts.

All the information paths related to searching, filtering, and locating become meaningless in the face of the immense power he displayed.

Two hours later, Darkus left the library and reappeared at the spot where he had first entered the White Tower, accompanied by Raine, the Twilight Sisters, Cecil Hal, and Springtwin. They all shared one thing in common: here, they were all 'illiterate'.

At least, in this library built of knowledge and mystery, they cannot read or analyze most of the content, nor can they understand this ocean of words from the perspective of a spellcaster.

The reason for leaving was simple—he had achieved his goal.

The library is no longer the quiet and sacred hall it once was, but has been transformed into an academic venue, where a grand gathering of scholars and a vibrant exchange of ideas are rapidly unfolding.

A grand event?
Yes, perhaps it should be called a top-level academic conference in the field of elven magic.

The host was Bell-Khaddis, and the participants were Saril, Colonia, Drusala, Alisa, Liv... and so on. These were people who were usually just legends and existed only in files, but now they were gathered in this same space.

In the brief moment Darkus paused in the hall, his gaze swept over several newly arrived spellcasters, including Fenrir who had greeted him. Clearly, these people knew of the events that had transpired in the library and had been drawn there. A tidal wave of footsteps and conversations gradually filled the once-tranquil hall with the warmth of human activity.

But soon, as these spellcasters entered the exhibition hall, the hall, which had just begun to feel human, turned back into a tomb.

Actually, Darkus himself quite disliked elven-style architecture.

He disliked those towering spires and their impractical aesthetic design, but what can you expect when these towers don't have elevators?
The tower that left the deepest impression on him was the Seychelles Tower. It was so tall that climbing it was extremely difficult, and he still remembers the time it took him to climb from the bottom to the top.

My legs went weak.

Fortunately, this time it wasn't physically demanding.

In places like the White Pagoda, the boundaries between space and common sense have long been blurred. There are paths that cannot be explained by conventional physical laws. Jumps between corners, stairs, platforms and corridors, and even the flow of time seems less absolute.

He walked up a winding, gentle staircase, his steps becoming steady and his breathing calm. Before he knew it, the stone steps had merged with the sky.

According to Belloda, the White Tower has two tops.

One of them has a huge domed opening, but the arched windows are not fitted with glass, allowing magical winds to flow, collide, and converge within it without obstruction. Standing at the center of this convergence of winds, the magical winds surge violently around the caster, forming a swirling, vortex-like field of power.

Here, any spellcaster can experience the limits of power, a supreme energy that can instantly drive one to madness. When they raise their hands at the center of this magical storm, it is not to summon anything, but to touch, sense, and resonate with that unrestrained energy.

It can be said that this is a place for spellcasters to undergo trials and advance their skills. Very few people can enter on ordinary days. Even the higher-ups of the White Tower can only set foot there under specific circumstances.

The other summit, where Dakota is now, is a retreat for meditation and enlightenment.

This space is extremely tranquil, even sacred. The floor is paved with polished marble, its color as clear and calm as sapphire, as if one were standing on a flowing deep sea. In the center is an eight-spoked wheel mosaic pattern, inlaid piece by piece with obsidian, the pattern is rigorous and symmetrical, and it carries a mysterious guiding force.

At the end of each radial line is a narrow window, like a keyhole leading to the unknown. On the tower wall is a seamless stone door, without gaps, locks, or even handles, but it stands there as if leading to some world beyond the heavens.

No one knows what lies behind that door; it might be the heavens, the void, or the reflection of another tower.

The only piece of furniture here is that silver pedestal with slender legs.

Darkus walked slowly over and stood in front of the pedestal, his gaze falling on the sword lying quietly on it—the 'Sword of Bel-Khadis,' one of the four pieces of the Bel-Khadis set.

Without a doubt, this sword once belonged to Bel-Khadis himself, just as the Sword of Tigris belonged to Tigris, just as...

This sword is very strong, extremely strong.

Ordinary armor before it is like a prop suit in a photo studio—thin as paper, brittle as a shell, easily cut down with a single stroke. But the true power of this sword lies not in its sharpness, nor in its lethality; those are not its true purpose.

Its strength lies in its symbolic meaning.

It is a token, an authority, a weighty legacy, and more importantly, a 'physical embodiment of ideals' forged and left behind by a master spellcaster. Every inch of its metal, every pattern, every ray of light carries not the bloodshed of the battlefield, but the crystallization of 'ideas'—wisdom, order, and protection.

In some places, at some scenic spots, you have to choose the right time to see the real spectacle. Just like seeing waterfalls, you definitely have to go in the summer when there is a lot of rain. The water is surging and the rapids are like ribbons, that's when you can truly say it's a waterfall plunging three thousand feet.

What about normally?
When the dry season arrives, the scene is no different from an old man urinating, dripping and drizzling, without any momentum.

And now, Dakotas has arrived at just the right time.

The setting sun's rays streamed through the narrow window, striking the sword's tip with arrow-like precision. The light didn't reflect; instead, it seemed absorbed into the blade, instantly bursting forth as flowing, radiant colors, gentle yet dazzling. Legend says this sword can capture the sun's brilliance, making it shine all night, a beacon of truth even in the darkest night.

This sword is usually placed atop the highest spire of the White Tower, and is not to be touched without permission. It is only solemnly taken down when Belanar goes to war. At that moment, the swordsman will swear an oath: this sword may only be used to uphold justice, thus upholding the lofty ideals and spirit of the wise king Bel-Khedrus.

but……

Darkus didn't come to see the Sword of Bel-Khadis. He wasn't there on a pilgrimage, for sightseeing, or to create any sense of ceremony.

His purpose was more practical.

“It should be in that direction.” Renn walked to a window, his gaze piercing through the sky above the tower, pointing into the distance.

Darkus walked over, approached the windowsill, and looked in the direction Rein was pointing for a while. He didn't speak, he just nodded.

Because he didn't see anything...

There were only mountains, and more mountains; as far as the eye could see, there were still endless peaks and ridges, and the boundary between heaven and earth had long been blurred.

He gained a lot from this trip to the White Tower of Holstein.

If what he saw in the two colleges of Adolf was the 'lower limit'—the lowest level of knowledge in this world, then what he saw in the White Tower of Hoss was the 'upper limit'—the pinnacle of knowledge in this world.

Without a doubt, this was a huge gain.

A leap in cognition, a systemic refresh.

This made him truly understand where the range was, where the ceiling was, where the platform was, where he was, and how he should make a name for himself and write a peak chapter within this grand and rigorous framework.

Furthermore, he has gained the approval of the Sword Sect, and this is not just empty talk.

This signifies the Sword Saint Order's recognition of him.

This is the essence of swordsmanship and the way of the sword, the pinnacle of Asur combat techniques, and the philosophical imprint of "understanding principles through the sword".

And Bel-Khaddis, the "intellectual legacy" who had been lingering deep within the library for years and never appeared in the public eye, actually chose to show himself in front of him.

This means that the White Pagoda itself recognizes him.

In addition to the stone tablets, books, knowledge, and ancient materials he obtained from the library, all these gains piled up to form his most substantial list of acquisitions from this journey. Of course, this was only his personal gain.

The spellcasters who accompanied him—warlocks and mages from different backgrounds outside the White Tower—benefited greatly from this academic exchange. Although their improvement was not significant—no one broke through to a higher realm on the spot, no one had an epiphany and advanced in rank, and no one experienced a surge in strength—this was never the point. It did not mean that this exchange was meaningless; on the contrary, it was extremely important.

The key is to engage with and understand the limits of elven magic, and to better define one's own position in future development.

In Darkus's vision, the first step in modernizing the elven spellcasting system is to establish "horizontal links," laying the foundation for the future "Age of Miracles."

In the future, what the elven society needs is not just ten or twenty legendary spellcasters, nor a few chosen ones or avatars performing a solo act.

What is needed are thousands of "academicians" and "researchers" trained through systematic education. They may not necessarily have extraordinary combat abilities, but they must be able to pave a complete path for future generations.

We must cultivate talent for the Elf society systematically, scientifically, and in a planned manner. We cannot rely on inspiration and miracles; we must rely on education and accumulation.

It's like farming.

We need to loosen the soil, dig the holes, and plant the saplings.

It needs watering, fertilizing, shading, and pest control; it won't bear fruit overnight, and a single spring rain can't solve all the problems. In fact, you might not see any results, flowers, or fruit for the first few years, and it may even have to endure pests, droughts, and wind-broken branches.

That doesn't matter.

He was planting fruit trees, trees of wisdom that would blossom and bear fruit in the future age of miracles.

As for the knowledge gained at the White Pagoda...

To be honest, it's a bit embarrassing. Only a few hours have passed. To put it mildly, it's a superficial overview; to put it bluntly, it's something I can only glance at and can't fully digest. This isn't a matter of ability, but rather a matter of time and energy, and even more so, a matter of structure and system.

It's like someone scanning the catalog in a library and seeing walls full of book titles, scrolls, slates, manuscripts, and even records of heritage and research findings. But they have no pen, no paper, no time to sit down and slowly flip through the pages, and no quantum reading. They can only look at the cover, read the introduction, and then have to move on.

The information was too vast, too dense, and too complex. He didn't bring his own research team or an entire research institute to analyze it step by step. It's already quite good that he's managed to do this much.

Perhaps... only Tzeentch can fully digest the essence of the White Tower.

The current situation is somewhat like 40 years ago, when World War II was still raging, the smoke of battle had not yet dissipated, the gunfire was still ongoing, and everything was in a state of chaos.

The real struggle didn't begin until 46 years later, after the war ended, when the two superpowers, the United States and the Soviet Union, began a frantic scramble for the technological achievements, professional personnel, experimental data, and complete equipment systems left behind by Sanders.

From rocket technology to aviation technology, from nuclear energy science to biochemical experiments, from electronic communications to materials science, and then to the researchers and engineers who stood at the pinnacle of world science and technology before the war…

Darkus believed that 46 years would eventually come, and that point would be there—the Cold War technology of the Elven world, and the tipping point of the Age of Miracles.

"Don't move for now."

After a moment of silence, Dakota made his decision.

It was not hesitation, nor retreat, but a prudent judgment after weighing the pros and cons.

Just now, he obtained Tacirio's manuscript, a fragmented yet crucial document. After comparing, integrating, and verifying this manuscript with the contents he had obtained from the large guiding stone on Death Island, he confirmed a fact.

Apart from the Isle of the Dead, there are indeed eight large-scale guiding stone systems in Ulthuan that were laid by the Old Ones themselves. This is not a legend or a hypothesis, but a real existence.

One of these sites is located at the border between the Kingdom of Safrui and the Kingdom of Itien, nestled within a crater eroded by time and shrouded in mist.

Hidden on the inner side of the mountain, beneath the shadows cast by the boulders, lies a path obscured by wind and sand, forgotten by history. This path leads to a hall that has been sealed for over a thousand years, a hall whose creation predates the beginning of the elven civilization. Before the ancestors of the elves even set foot on this land, its builders had already departed, leaving behind only fragments of dreams and mysteries.

That was the cursed land mentioned by the scholar Tacirio in his scroll, one of the ancient ruins of Ulthuan.

A weathered stone archway blocked his path, with an ancient and solemn decree inscribed on it: No elf is permitted to proceed.

Tacirio once tried to open that door, but regretted it for the rest of his life. His fate served as a warning to those who dared to disturb this place.

But for Dakous?

The so-called prohibition of any elves from advancing was a trivial matter. He had already been to Death Island and explored the insanely large guiding stone there, let alone these eight.

It's not that he won't go, he's just not in a hurry.

For him right now, it's not the right time to take action.

The existence of these eight large guiding stones is clearly intended for a second line of defense, not for the current juncture. They are not treasures, but keys, passages to the future, entities that need to be properly awakened.

This matter requires careful consideration of methods and steps; it needs to be started gradually and slowly, and should be carried out rhythmically, in stages, and in an orderly manner.

This isn't official jargon or platitudes; it's simply the truth.

The first step in activating this level of guiding stone is measurement, precisely measuring its fluctuation value and energy response frequency; the second step is assessment, to know the consequences after activation, which will affect the entire environment of Ulthuan, the ley lines, and even the social structure; then comes adjustment, connecting and pre-setting the environment based on known parameters.

Finally, everyone has to sit down, have a meeting, a discussion, and even bring Caledo out to study the matter together before making a decision.

Otherwise, if we start without a plan, no one can afford the consequences.

As for the stone slabs that may be present among these eight large guiding stones?

Maybe, maybe not.

It may be very important, or it may not be important at all.

Darkus is now facing a dilemma, much like playing a gacha game. In the initial stage, when you have no cards, every card you draw is brand new and represents a "power boost." Whether it's SSR, SR, or R, as long as you draw it, it's a good item, and the effect is "immediate."

Now, there are very few new cards, and more importantly, very few truly useful cards.

It's not that there are no stone slabs in the White Pagoda; on the contrary, there are indeed stone slabs, quite a few, and some are surprisingly intact. But unfortunately, none of them are the type he wants, or rather, the type he urgently needs right now.

The scholars at the White Pagoda were able to draw the structural diagram of the pyramid because...

These stone slabs are related to the lizardmen's spaceship!
It's not an Ancient One's spaceship, it's a Lizardman's spaceship!
There is a clear, fundamental, and irreconcilable difference between these two.

Darkus had seen the ancient saint's spaceship in Slanwpek, a silver, streamlined aircraft like liquid metal, resembling a relic fallen from another universe. It stood silently amidst the light and shadow, and its technological incongruity, alienation, and oppressive presence, so out of place in the rest of the world, remained vivid in his memory to this day.

A miracle from the stars, carrying an overwhelming difference in the level of civilization.

And the lizardmen's spaceship...

That’s another story.

On the continent of Lustria, in that land of sprawling jungles and shrouded in mist, there are numerous stone structures, such as pyramids, temples, and obelisks. Many of these structures have remained unchanged for tens of thousands of years, as if nailed to the spiritual veins, seemingly waiting for a destined moment to arrive.

But this moment finally arrived on another timeline!

As the final moment drew near, every Sran priest scattered across the continent received a telepathic message from Mazdamudi.

Without argument or hesitation, everyone started to move.

Those who stayed behind to assist Mazdamudi in the battle remained, while those preparing to evacuate the planet took their positions; the tasks were redistributed with astonishing efficiency. The Sran priests acted without hesitation, and the plan proceeded silently.

Around the head of the city, the long-silent silver obelisks, shrouded in vines and rainforest, began to rumble, as if slumbering gods were awakening, emitting deep, powerful breaths.

The stone pyramids of the City of the Sun emitted a strange light, a light that seemed less like a physical light source in this world and more like a conceptual lighting that illuminated not space, but meaning itself.

In the jungle, the overgrown ruins rose with the tremors, and stone steps grew out of the decaying ground, as if the buildings themselves had broken free from the earth's constraints and returned to the embrace of the sky.

As the first stone slowly floated up, it emitted a thunderous roar.

It wasn't the buildings that were moving, but the mountains that were shifting, the very framework of the earth that was being repositioned!

Those incredibly heavy, landmark-level buildings actually took flight, one after another lifting off the ground like mountains soaring into the sky.

The sheer number and scale of these clouds were enough to alter the weather; a bright, sunny sky could turn into a dense, overcast one in just a few minutes, as if the sky itself were making way for them.

The pyramids hovered in the air, and the stone temples rose into the clouds. Their true scale was only revealed after they ascended into the sky. What was seen on the ground was just the tip of the iceberg, while their enormous bodies were already hidden deep underground, forming lurking giants.

As they rose, huge clods of mud and rubble fell from the underside of the building, as if the flesh and blood of the earth were being torn apart, and the entire jungle was leveled as the tremors reached.

then……

They accelerated.

Its speed of movement far exceeded anyone's imagination. It traversed the clouds amidst thunderclouds and gales, soaring straight into the sky, circling once in the high altitude beyond visual range, and then disappeared.

For the Sran priests, this is a return.

It's not an escape, not a retreat, but part of a grand plan: to return to the embrace of the stars, to return to where we first set sail.

Without the roar of a jet engine or the trail of a tail flame, they are like stars that have gone off track in the universe, quietly piercing the silent void, silently traveling among the stars, drifting slowly and steadily.

Finally, they descended from the sky in a massive display of power, and the lizardmen who arrived in spaceships reunited with the beings from the previous era, beginning a new round of staring contests.

The issue is……

What seemed shocking was actually irrelevant to Darkus.

It is clearly unrelated.

Use one of the ships as a mighty hammer to crash into the evil moon, smashing the chaotic moon hanging overhead off course and sending it flying.
These are not the stone slabs he is looking for, nor the path he is meant to take.

What he was looking for was not the echoes of the Lizardman era, but the source code of the Ancients.

It is the blueprint, the skeleton, the cognitive chain that creates and calculates the entire reality.

Of course, there are other stone slabs in the White Pagoda, but they all contain the same content.

For example, he already had information on how to start the Shaper Engine.

As for the stone tablet concerning the use of the Sun Scepter... it is not found in the White Tower.

After looking at it for a moment and thinking for a moment, Darkus gently raised his head and looked at Renn with a slightly solemn expression.

"I'm giving you a task, a very important task."

His tone was calm, but to Renne it was like a bolt of lightning.

Raine didn't say anything, but his eyes instantly hardened. The sense of responsibility that emanated from his silence made him stand even straighter, like a sword yet to be drawn.

Dakos is ready to take a gamble.

Originally, he planned to personally travel a long distance to fulfill his responsibility as the 'key'.

But this time, after thinking it over, he discovered...

Perhaps this time, he won't need to personally take the field? (End of Chapter)