Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Why not return it?

"Duty..."

His voice was hoarse and weak, as if he had used up the last bit of breath in his body to squeeze it out.

It's either similar, or...

Having said that, the sentry, who had been barely managing to lean against the wall, could no longer support himself. His back slid slowly down the cold wall, the armor scraping against the stone with a dull thud.

As his body collapsed, the light in his eyes dimmed little by little until it went out completely, and even his breath stopped at that moment. Finally, he fell into a pool of his own blood, the blood slowly spreading outwards, mixing with the dust on the ground to form a dark red stain.

The captain who was asking the question stood still. She did not salute the sentry with a solemn expression, nor did she show any pity. She did nothing or said anything.

She simply stood there, her expression cold and blank, as if even her facial expressions had been worn down by the battle and exhaustion. Her only movement was watching as the three Evil Guards in her team walked toward the fallen enemy.

Two of them moved swiftly and skillfully, with a cold indifference that came from years of battlefield experience. Following the steps in the manual, they raised their spears and pinned the sentry's arms firmly to the ground, ensuring that the dead enemy would not come back to life in a final burst of energy before death.

Another guard crouched down to check if the sentry still had a sliver of life left.

If so, he would immediately plunge his short, sharp dagger down, giving the enemy no time to feel pain.

After confirming the sentry was dead, the dagger-wielding guard reached out and quickly unlocked the enemy's helmet buckle. The soft click of the metal buckle being pulled open was particularly clear at that moment. He threw the helmet aside with a dull thud.

His gaze lingered on the dead man's face for a moment. He suppressed the instinctive urge to cut off the enemy's head, reached down and took the comb from the back of the sentry's head, holding it in his palm.

In Ausuan, the significance of a comb far surpasses that of an ordinary object.

Asur cherishes long hair, viewing it as a dual symbol of beauty and strength, and a manifestation of a warrior's identity and honor. The hair comb is not merely a tool for tidying and binding hair, but also an extension of the wearer's identity.

Many combs are engraved with the wearer's name or family crest, which are inviolable personal marks. Skilled observers can even infer the wearer's family lineage, social status, and even political affiliation from the comb's carvings and materials.

If it were taken away, it would be a great disgrace.

In the markets of Ausuan, hair combs are never short of buyers. From simple, practical commoners' styles to priceless, art-like treasures, there's something for everyone. Many Asur are willing to spend everything they have, sparing no expense, just to acquire a hair comb befitting their status.

In the new era, Duruci no longer continued the old practice of cutting off Asur's ears or heads to prove military achievements. Instead, they collected Asur's hair combs, which was not only clean and efficient but also served as strong evidence for submitting battle results.

For Trudeau, born in the new era, this was no different from taking the identification tag of a fallen comrade on the battlefield—cold and practical.

As for Duluqi's own hairstyle, that's quite an ironic anecdote.

According to Darkus, the easiest way is to shave everyone's heads, regardless of gender.

Simple, clean, and hygienic, saving you the trouble of maintenance.

However, this proposal was met with strong opposition from most of the Duruci, including Marekis, who even suggested that Dakos should set an example first.

Therefore, the compromise reached was that all soldiers, regardless of gender, whether in the army or navy, and whether they were junior or mid-level officers, should have a hazelnut head.

The characteristic of this hairstyle is that all the hair from the neck to the ears is shaved off, revealing a clean and tough line, while the hair above the ears is cut extremely short, leaving only a layer of fine stubble that gleams with a cold and hard sheen in the sunlight.

The hair on the top of the head, however, should be kept long, generally at a medium length, like a battle flag that has been deliberately preserved. The comb will gently comb these long hairs from the forehead to the back of the head, either smoothly backwards or parted in the middle or to the side, depending on personal preference.

Because the hair on the top of the head is long and easily gets messy in the sea breeze or during battle, hair wax has become an essential item to keep it in place even in a mess.

Without hair wax, these long hairs would spread out like startled wild animals, covering the forehead with thick strands, obstructing vision and making the person look unkempt. For this reason, hair wax was included in the military supplies list and distributed along with other daily necessities.

This is something that soldiers in the new era take for granted.

Once one becomes a high-ranking military officer, the choice of hairstyle is no longer restricted by any rules or regulations; one can shave it bald or let it grow long as one pleases, completely at one's own discretion.

Duruci, Asley, and Enil, who came from the old era, and Asur, Kaldor, and Kelly, who defected, almost all had long hair. Their hair was like a piece of history, recording personal glory and the imprint of the era.

Only Trucchi, born around the turn of the new era, stubbornly maintained his hazelnut hairstyle even after being promoted to high-ranking officer. In the eyes of these proud elites, the hazelnut hairstyle was not merely an appearance, but a direct symbol of identity and a manifestation of personal strength.

Whenever Trudeau, who was active in the military system, saw this hairstyle, even if he didn't know the person, he could immediately tell that they were born around the turn of the new era.

Besides high-ranking officers, certain professions and branches of the military also have their own traditions and customs regarding hairstyles. Some are innovative to highlight their characteristics, some follow tradition to show respect, and some have to compromise due to the limitations of combat and environmental conditions.

As a veteran high-ranking beast tamer who had captured the beasts of Lyma, Kalian still maintained his signature Baturu hairstyle, with his long braid tied high, as if it could transform into a whip to lash out at enemies at any moment. The other beast tamers were much the same, almost all sporting that long braid that stood upright, serving as both decoration and weapon. In contrast, the protectors, who had branched off from the beast tamer system, to clearly distinguish themselves from the beast tamers, simply shaved their heads completely bald, leaving not an inch of hair.

In Darkus's words, "Oh no, it's really become Itonis."

The captain glanced at the hair comb that the soldier was holding up as a trophy, then followed his gaze to the two guards who had been preventing the enemy from attacking, but were now bending down and joining the ranks of looting the spoils.

She didn't say anything, but simply turned and left the somewhat noisy corner.

She tucked the helmet she had taken off under her left arm, reached up to untie the water bottle at her waist, and gulped down water. After finishing, she poured the remaining water over her head, letting the cool droplets slide down her temples, completely soaking her hazelnut hair. She used her fingers to smooth the wet strands back, pressing them flat inch by inch, until her forehead once again revealed clean lines, only then did her gaze gradually regain its sharpness.

After completing this movement, she straightened her back, put her feet together, and stood at attention. When the centurion, who was striding forward, appeared before her, she pounded her chest and raised her hand in salute without hesitation, her movements clean and efficient.

Although called centurions, unlike in the army, a naval centurion does not command ten squads, but rather four squads of fifty men each.

"Next, your squad will be the reserve force. Any problems?" the centurion asked after catching his breath, his voice steady and brief.

"No problem!" Her answer was crisp and firm, without the slightest hesitation.

The captain had no objections to the centurion's arrangement; in fact, she was already mentally prepared. She and her squad were assigned to a special barge, one of the closest to land and the first to make contact with the shore. Their task was straightforward: to carry the anchor locks and stabilize the connection between the suspension cable and the iron bridge.

So, the moment the heavy iron bridge slammed into the ground, she and her team almost instinctively ignored the boos and complaints from behind and rushed out without hesitation.

The iron bridge beneath her feet was still trembling slightly, the roar of the waves mingling with the clanging of metal on the deck, creating a heart-pounding rhythm. The team naturally charged to the front, like a sharp spearhead, advancing with all their might towards the mountain pass, the very spot where she stood.

However, contrary to expectations, the sentries who were supposed to evacuate did not leave. Instead, they remained steadfastly at their post, like a row of calm statues, fiercely guarding the high ground. Worse still, according to the original battle plan, the raiding ships responsible for clearing the mountain pass's firing positions should have already arrived, but they were nowhere to be seen. Who could have prevented the sudden appearance of a dragon that wasn't part of the plan?

The raiding ships that were originally intended to ascend to air superiority to provide cover fire and magical support for ground troops had to temporarily change course to face the larger and more dangerous threat.

At that time, she and her team had rushed to the narrow passage in the middle of the mountain, struggling to move forward along the slippery stone path, followed closely by other Emirates who had disembarked from the barge.

Tactically, as the vanguard, they absolutely cannot stop, no matter what.

Moreover, she was able to serve as the vanguard this time entirely because she had fought hard for the opportunity by drawing lots before the operation. In a sense, this was the key to proving whether she could continue to stand in the army, or even go further.

If she stops at this crucial juncture... then all her previous efforts, her gamble, and even her pride will become a joke.

She knew perfectly well that if she stopped, she could still survive when the operation ended, and perhaps retiring was the best option for her...

So she had no choice but to grit her teeth and continue the attack, her steps seemingly nailed to the tactical rhythm, allowing no room for hesitation. In the intervals between advances, she used her peripheral vision to catch the movements of the sea and sky—

She saw the dragon swooping down, its enormous shadow seemingly swallowing half the sea;
The seafood feast looked like angry predators charging straight into the sky towards the dragon;

They saw the searchlights suddenly light up and shine on the dragon;

They saw the raiding ships high in the sky begin to adjust their attitude and dive;

They saw the dragon being hit by the raiding ship, letting out a deafening roar;

Seeing the dragon rolling in the air, try to shake off any objects or creatures that appear on its back;

I saw a guard holding the arrow shaft tightly, persisting desperately.

After dodging the dragon's breath, a giant eagle performed a magnificent maneuver, and then two figures on its back landed on the dragon's back, engaging in close combat with the dragon rider.

She saw the Weavers and Evil Guardians, who had been thrown off by the dragon, some activating their drive rings to stabilize themselves and descend slowly, while others simply opened their parachutes, like gray flowers slowly blooming in the air.
She saw the raiding ship that was supposed to provide her with support and whose high-altitude dive had missed the dragon maneuvering;

She saw the spellcasters on the raiding ship waving their far-sea staffs, trying to activate the rings of the unconscious, rapidly falling Evil Guardians, or simply freezing them in mid-air, waiting for rescue.

She saw a seafood feast forming a killing formation around the dragon;
She looked and looked...

She couldn't watch any longer.

By this time, the sentries still holding their positions had begun a fierce counterattack against her and her squad. Taking advantage of their high vantage point, they unleashed a deluge of arrows, like a storm of steel raining down from the sky, dense and seamless.

The arrows whistled sharply through the air, carrying a chilling force, before slamming into the shields held high by the Evil Guards. The clanging and clattering of the impacts echoed, the shields trembled violently, numbing the hands and numbing the muscles in the arms, making them ache as if repeatedly struck by a heavy hammer.

Each arrow struck felt like the enemy was hammering their defenses with real force, trying to break down this steel wall bit by bit. She gritted her teeth, her wrists and elbows nearly stiff from holding the shield up for so long, and her fingertips were even starting to lose feeling.

But their steps never faltered.

"Keep your body low! Keep your distance!" Her deep, powerful voice boomed through the wind and the whistling of arrows.

This is an order, and there is no room for doubt.

The squad members immediately adjusted their already tight formation, pressing shoulder to shoulder together, their shields forming a rough yet sturdy steel wall in front of them. Their breathing became rapid and heavy, but their steps continued steadily forward despite the barrage of arrows, each step forward a small step on the line between life and death.

And so, she and her squad slowly approached amidst the rain of arrows, pressing forward step by step against the tidal wave of arrows.

When she finally faced the sentries, she knew that the outcome of this small-scale skirmish was already decided the moment the two sides got close.

It wasn't because of the eleven against ten, nor the second squad that followed closely behind, but because in close combat, the Evil Guard's armor and physique, shield formation and blades far surpassed those of the defending troops.

After suffering minor injuries to two Evil Guards, the battle ended quickly, and the outpost was cleared.

After the centurion turned and strode away, the captain, who was still standing there, looked past the corpse and toward the sea, trying to find the dragon.

However, the angle and the passage of time rendered all her efforts futile, and she failed to see the sight she desired. Instead, several raiding ships remained hovering low over the sea, busy rescuing the fallen Weavers and Evil Guardians; while another group of raiding ships had begun to ascend again, approaching her location.

She glanced up again at the black ark silently anchored on the distant sea, its massive, silent form like a shadow suspended between the sky and the ocean. Then, her gaze swept past the Albatross-class merchant ship moored beside a special barge, and onto the deck and bridge of the special barge, where countless tiny black dots moved like a swarm of ants.

As she turned her head, she shifted her gaze to the mountainside.

The road she had come from was now occupied by the arriving army. She had a feeling that the army was moving too fast, but she knew it wasn't just her imagination.

The first wave that should have rushed up was not her and her squad, nor the navy, but the army, specifically the 15th Army Group, which specializes in mountain warfare.

This attack was secured by the navy, and she...

She glanced again at the nearby hillsides and cliffs, her eyes filled with a kind of urgent and impatient search, but she did not find what she was looking for.

She shook her head gently and silently, then gave a mocking smile.

She knew that the number of Eagle Claw Ballistae deployed by Asur was not even in the same league as the Reaper Ballistae of Duruchi.

If the Eagle Claw Ballista had been deployed here, she would probably have already returned to Matheran's embrace by now.

Even without ballistae, she remained convinced that there should have been other defensive measures in place. If she were in command, without ballistae, she would not hesitate to use rolling stones, using the terrain and gravity to deliver a fatal blow to any enemy attempting to storm the outpost.

But Rolling Stones didn't have it either.

She was met only by a hail of arrows.

Perhaps the Asur were simply unprepared; or perhaps they trusted their longbows more than the rolling stones. However, the bows and arrows clearly disappointed them in today's battle, and they paid the price.

The next moment, a thunderous shout exploded in her ears, abruptly pulling her back from her jumbled thoughts. She immediately turned her head, looking in the direction from which the shout had come… (End of Chapter)