Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Darkus pursed his lips, his eyes twitching slightly, before slowly turning his gaze away. He didn't look at the people sitting around the conference table, nor did he meet their gazes, which were sometimes solemn, sometimes wandering, sometimes guilty. Instead, his gaze fell on the table and chairs. The smooth wood grain, the fine scratches left by time and countless arguments, seemed to be silently reminding him of certain past events.

There was a time when Hosa Fay sat here, at this very table, participating in meeting after meeting. He would discuss with them how to plan the defenses of Port Elisthe, how to allocate resources, and so on.

And now... the empty chair remains, but the old people are gone.

Port Eleste is ruled by a council of five, consisting of two relatives of Finnubal, Aurelian and Calanos, and three others: Ferrian, Hosa Fay, and Mithrion Silver Stag.

The reason Darkus concluded that the corpse was Hosa was actually quite simple: the process of elimination... cold, but exceptionally effective.

After it was confirmed that cultists launched the attack on the Eternal Queen, there must have been some kind of ritual behind the attack. The ritual is the anchor, not the surging tide of dusk, the winds of magic, or the rift that opened by chance.

Some powerful beings can indeed forcibly pull demons from the Chaos Demon Realm into the mortal world through rituals.

In the year 2300 of the Imperial Calendar, Malekith orchestrated a similar farce, summoning the Slaanesh archdeacon Nakari to the mortal realm and forcibly binding him to his side. The Prophet of Khorne did something similar, dragging the Khorne archdeacon Skabrand into reality. The process was absurd to the point of being comical, but the result was undeniable: Skabrand was indeed summoned.

Examples like this are not uncommon in history; they are cruel and true.

However, if we turn our attention back to Ulthuan, there are very few elven spellcasters who can pull off such a feat.

The spellcasters of Duruchi either engage in heavy administrative work in the Kingdom of Saffre, are stationed on the front lines, or stand by in Lorthorn.

As for the Asley spellcasters, apart from Liv who was roaming alone, almost all of them were concentrated in Lorthorn, awaiting orders;
Enil the spellcaster only came to Kaeya; she is currently active in the northern peninsula of the Kingdom of Elion, responsible for establishing landing sites and strategic nodes, and is extremely busy.
As for the spellcasters of Asur, the situation is far more complex. With the arrival of war, the White Tower faction, having nowhere else to go, chose to remain in the White Tower of Hoss, sealing themselves off and defending themselves.

The others went their separate ways, each returning to their own home.

The dragon mages returned to Kaledor; Kaldor's brother, Kaledan, returned to the territory of the Kingdom of Nagareth; and after attending the ceremony at the Temple of Asuryan, Allerian sailed to Lor'then and then returned to the port of Eleste.

Etc., etc.

Due to factions, stances, territories, and families, the spellcaster community of the Hoss lineage was completely torn apart, scattered and dispersed.

However, their movements are still clear and traceable; as long as you investigate, you can find out where they are.

The only exception is Hosa Fay.

He was the only spellcaster to relinquish his territory, his authority, and even his seat in the Council of the White Tower of Hoss. After that, he vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the earth. His whereabouts are unknown, no trace remains, he has completely disappeared from this continent.

Initially, Darkus believed that Hoza, being a Safrei, had chosen to side with Caledon and fight for Regent Imrek. However, the intelligence reports consistently failed to mention any sign of his presence.

Now it's clear that Hosa wasn't absent; he simply chose a different path. He entered the Kingdom of Avalon, hid deep in the forest, and there he began the practice of summoning demons.

As for how it later turned into a corpse... that's another story.

Victor was no ordinary forest ranger; if he were merely skilled in archery and swordsmanship, he would never have caught Darkus's eye. Victor was chosen because he possessed other qualities, traits that set him apart and made him incredibly dangerous.

He was a hunter—a hunter in the truest sense of the word. His prey was not wild beasts, but humans, or more precisely, elves. Hunting intelligent beings of his own kind was his obsession and fanaticism.

No, it should be called "sperm hunting".

Furthermore, his sense of smell was amplified, almost beyond the realm of common sense. He could follow scents like a hunting dog, discern tracks, and lock onto the faint scent of his prey in the snow and wind of the wilderness.

Clearly, at some point, Vidor noticed Hosa. To him, it was the perfect prey, a target worth pursuing at all costs.

This timing likely occurred after Hosa completed the demon-summoning ritual and chose to leave, either to continue lying low or to return to normal. Vidor's sense of smell detected his presence, leading to his pursuit.

The relationship between hunter and prey was thus established.

The ending is not hard to predict.

"Sit down, don't stand."

Darkus sighed, stretched out his hand, and waved slightly, gesturing for the remaining Hothian elves to sit down.

Schrinassto's gaze fell once more on Arelani and Asantir. After exchanging a glance, the three finally suppressed their anxiety and slowly sat down. However, the unease and shame on their faces did not diminish; on the contrary, they became even more pronounced.

They all knew very well that this matter was not over, far from over; it had only just begun.

As they had predicted, things went exactly as they had expected.

"The Eternal Queen's next defensive tasks..."

Dakos spoke calmly, his voice not loud, but it struck Schrinassto's heart like a hammer blow.

Schrinassto, barely having warmed his seat, instinctively stood up again. He couldn't help it; although Darkus's expression seemed calm, without a trace of anger or outward reproach, the invisible pressure was simply too intense. As a magic swordsman, he was particularly sensitive to this kind of pressure, almost instinctively making him rise to meet it.

“Before leaving, I left five squads of sword saints to guard the Eternal Queen.” Schrinusto tried to make his voice sound steady, but it still couldn’t help but carry a hint of urgency. “Afterwards, Kornas will lead the sword saints under his command to take over from the White Tower of Hoss.”

"sit."

Darkus waved his hand again, this time with a subtle change in his expression. He glanced at Schrinassto quietly, then curled his lip in disapproval.

Darkus knew relatively well about Schrinassto and Kornas, the two Hosse swordsmen.

How should I put it... a psychopath?

Elves are inherently obsessive-compulsive; once they become fascinated by a goal, they become completely absorbed in it, regardless of the cost or even the consequences. Even if that goal drags them into danger, they will not let go.

Cornus was a typical example of this; he was repeatedly condemned by Parliament for studying forbidden knowledge, yet he remained obstinate. It wasn't until later that he met someone who supported his research—a mentor.

This mentor was none other than Moras.

Schrinassto, in essence, is a vulgar and short-tempered magic swordsman, outspoken and blunt. But this personality trait never truly manifests itself in front of Darkus. He knows how to restrain himself and control himself in the face of power and pressure, hiding his impatience and impulses in his heart.

At the end, he was transferred to Eagle Gate. He resented this transfer, but interestingly, his resentment was not about the "danger" or "hardship" in the eyes of outsiders, but about being forcibly removed from the research of the White Tower and replaced with endless patrols in the stone walls and passageways with other guards, which was extremely tedious.

This resentment made him even more venomous and incessantly verbose. His grievances often exhausted his colleagues, and over time, the other garrison soldiers even began to yearn for battle—only fighting could shut this guy up.

But once the battle actually broke out, Schrinassto revealed a completely different side of himself.

He was not just a complainer; he was someone who would actually step up when trouble came! He could transform his long-suppressed frustration into a raging inferno, channeling it into his greatsword and unleashing it as merciless, deadly magic upon his enemies.

Compared to Kornas, Schrinassto exhibits more deviations in personal emotions and psychology, and has not completely strayed from the path of the swordsman. He still has principles and order, but is often swayed by his personality and is too impatient.

Kornas is different.

Darkus had seen him at the White Tower of Hoss, where he appeared normal, even quite restrained and proper. But clearly, at some point later, he subtly changed course, gradually deviating from the path of the Sword Saint, and at the end, he completely abandoned it, embarking on an irreversible path.

“Yes.” When Schrinassto finally sat down again, Dakous nodded, his tone carrying a sense of approving scrutiny.

The future is the future, and the present is the present.

Dakos was well aware of this.

The current situation is extremely complex. He is maintaining a delicate cooperative relationship with the White Tower faction within the Hoss system, and the bridge between them is Saril, who represents Hoss.

As for the seventh Phoenix King, Bel-Khrushchev… he is dead. That’s why he chose to stay in a secluded corner rather than show himself in the White Tower.

As a wise man, he had a very clear understanding of his own position.

But this doesn't mean Bell-Khaddis has no influence. When he appears, expresses his opinions, and makes decisions, the Hothians still listen attentively and give him the respect and response he deserves. After all, he represents the lingering glory of the seventh Phoenix King, the Tyrioran family, and the White Tower of Hoth—an indelible prestige.

This is also why Darkus chose to have him appear in the library after their first meeting. Of course, communication and knowledge exchange are necessary, but the deeper intention was that he needed that influence, and he needed Bel-Khadis as another bridge to smoothly establish a closer connection with the Hossian system.

Therefore, Dakota cannot rashly deny or even stifle possibilities because of an uncertain future. At least for now, Cornus is undoubtedly a suitable candidate. It would be unreasonable to deny or even eliminate him because of so-called future risks.

The reason?
Will the future embrace darkness?
Is this reasonable?

Dakotas had a very clear understanding of his own position. He never saw himself as a charlatan or a prophet. He knew that he was on the path of politics, the path of negotiation and compromise.

He sighed softly, as if to expel the impatience and worry in his heart, then raised his hand and pushed the abnormal behavior report that he had been playing with on the table toward Schrinassto.

"What is this?" Schrinassto asked in a low voice, his brows furrowed with tension.

"Look, there's nothing..."

Before Dakous could finish speaking, a rhythmic knocking sound suddenly came from the heavy wooden door of the conference room.

All eyes immediately turned to him. He frowned, but showed no displeasure. He simply stood up steadily, walked to the door with calm and composed steps, and reached out to open it.

Besides the guards, there were two other people standing outside the door.

He recognized one of them, Mithril Silverstag, but at this moment, the former archmage's expression was extremely complicated. Confusion, pain, entanglement, and hesitation were all written on his face, as if he were carrying an unspeakable secret and request in his heart.

As for the other person standing beside him… Darkus initially felt that he looked familiar, as if he had seen him before. Soon, he realized that the sense of familiarity came from Kelly’s eyes and demeanor.

The person before me was none other than Eldan.

"Come in!" he invited, his tone neither hurried nor slow, but carrying an undeniable weight. After speaking, he turned and returned to the table and chairs, his expression remaining calm.

The meeting room door was then slowly closed, the heavy wooden board rubbing against the metal hinges with a deep sound that was particularly clear in the quiet space.

Michelion and his son-in-law entered the conference room, their steps light and hesitant, clearly uneasy. They did not sit down immediately, but stood stiffly in place, as if suppressed by some invisible force, their postures rigid and their eyes unfocused.

“Please don’t be like that. You’re an archmage, and… this is your territory, isn’t it?” Darkus’s tone was almost casually teasing, but his words were calm, like a gentle nudge, or perhaps a soothing reassurance. He beckoned to Mitherion, the gesture seemingly casual, yet carrying an invisible sense of control. Then, his gaze naturally shifted to Eldan. He was speechless at Eldan’s appearance.

As someone who can participate in the High Council of Ulthuan, and as the lord of the Kingdom of Elion, he has now appeared here at this moment...

Moreover, not long ago, Duruci forcibly occupied the northern peninsula of the Kingdom of Elion in an extremely unfriendly manner, causing the entire situation to suddenly become tense.

“A guest is a guest, please have a seat.” Darkus raised his hand, gesturing for Eldan to sit. After saying that, he turned his gaze back to Schrinassto, who was looking down at a report.

He paused, then suddenly spoke, abruptly changing the subject.

“The production model of Nagarus is completely new, an upgrade from workshops to factories. There, steel is produced continuously, there are no artisans, only workers. Workers are no longer scattered individuals, but part of a process that follows procedures and relies on supporting technologies. Each person is just a link in the entire huge operational chain.”

He spoke slowly, but every word struck a chord with those present.

"Before production begins, we compile a safety manual to prevent accidents during the process, such as someone accidentally falling into the steel furnace. Before starting work, workers must be fully equipped with safety helmets, safety shoes with steel plates at the toes, and sturdy work clothes that distinguish their job type and level—nothing can be missing. In addition, they must memorize every item in the manual, but..."

After rambling on for a while, Dakos stopped, his voice gradually lowering as if weighed down by an invisible burden. He sighed, paused for a moment, and then slowly spoke again.

"But accidents still happen from time to time. Despite our constant additions to the safety manual, our continuous revisions, and our constant emphasis on safety... and our regular safety meetings to repeatedly reinforce every detail, not long ago, a worker still fell into a steel furnace. Do you know why?"

The air seemed to freeze, so oppressive it felt like it was about to drip water.

Aside from the two dragons and the silent Twilight sisters, everyone else present, including Schrinustor who was reviewing the report, all looked up in unison. Their gazes were unified, their movements synchronized, as if by some kind of instinctive reflex. Then, they all shook their heads in unison, falling silent.

Nonsense, it would be strange if anyone knew.

The people present, including Asur, had no concept of what a factory was, let alone what a vast network of factories would look like. To them, it was a completely unfamiliar territory, like another world shrouded in mist. Their understanding was still limited to small workshops and small furnaces; they remained stuck in the mindset of artisans and individual skills, and naturally could not imagine those colossal machines that roared day and night, ceaselessly crushing individuals.

“The high-temperature gloves are linked to the raw materials,” Dakous explained. As he spoke, he extended his left hand, tapping his left little finger with his right index finger. He paused, then continued, “I know many of you don’t even know what a factory is, but…”

At this point, his voice suddenly lowered, and his gaze turned to Fenrir.

Finrel, playing the straight man, successfully took over the baton. He cleared his throat and promptly picked up the conversation.

"But the principle is the same! Nagaroth needs steel, and elves need spellcasters."

He didn't launch into a lengthy discourse, nor did he deliberately pile up any flowery language, but this one sentence already revealed the key point, sharp and straightforward. Without redundancy, it encompassed all aspects.

Dakos nodded, responding to and agreeing with Fenrir's words.

At that very moment, Miseria, Schrinassto, Arelani, and Asantir, who had been on edge, all breathed a sigh of relief almost simultaneously.

Politically, Dakous could have seized upon Hosa Fey and made a fuss about it, such as gradually dismantling the influence of the Hoss faction or even creating more divisions and conflicts, but he did not.

At least not on the surface.

however……

He actually did make a fuss about it.

The only difference is that the methods are more subtle and protracted.

The Hoss faction will inevitably have to clean up Hosa's mess; on top of that, they'll have to give something in return, or they won't be able to get away with it. The matter cannot be simply ignored, nor can it be pretended to be settled.

This is another layer of sharpness hidden beneath his words.

But this is not enough.

"What are your thoughts on this report of unusual behavior?" He suddenly looked up, his gaze falling on Schrinassto. His tone was calm, but it was like a pebble thrown into a lake, instantly shattering the tranquility that had just arrived.

Schrinassto's initial relief was suddenly replaced by renewed anxiety. He knew very well that Dakos's seemingly casual remark was anything but. Any single word could become a foreshadowing of events, and a slight misstep could easily make him the scapegoat.

If he could turn back time, he would have chosen the other path without hesitation, not opening that heavy report, but simply pushing it in front of Arelani and Asantir, even if it meant pretending not to see it.

Unfortunately, time cannot be reversed. Now, he can only grit his teeth and continue.

He slowly turned his gaze to Miserion, Arelani, and Asantir, who were sitting together. His eyes held a clear plea for help, almost a naked cry for help.

“Say what you think, be casual, don’t be so reserved.” Darkus leaned back in his chair, his tone indifferent, yet his expression exuded an undeniable sense of pressure. After a moment, he added, “Of course, don’t spout nonsense. Insults and denials are pointless, you know what I mean.”

“Very detailed…” Schrinassto swallowed hard, his throat feeling like it was blocked by something, and he forced out a few words. Then, as if struck by a sudden inspiration, he blurted out the question, “How did they find it?”

"Are there enough spies?" Dakos spread his hands, looking relaxed, as if he were talking about a trivial matter. "I'm telling the truth. This is just what we've discovered. There are many more that we haven't discovered yet, otherwise this report would be much thicker."

Although the humor was so dry that it left some people bewildered, the attendees still laughed one after another.

“We don’t have enough spies…” Schrinusto’s momentary inspiration vanished, and he blurted out the words in an instant. As soon as he finished speaking, he wished he could slap himself and swallow those words back down.

As expected, his bluntness did not earn him approval.

Fenrir, Miserion, Arelani, and Asantir frowned almost simultaneously, not with mere displeasure, but with a clear warning: how could you say such things in public?

Springtwin, who understood politics but didn't participate in it, widened his eyes, his dragon pupils brimming with undisguised admiration. It was as if he had seen a mortal suddenly raise a flaming spear and charge at a god; words like "Dude, you're really brave!" welled up in his mind, but he only swallowed them, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Schrinassto had no time to pay attention to these complex reactions; he felt as if he had been pushed to the edge of a cliff, with a bottomless abyss below and the wind whistling in his ears. He turned his head with difficulty, forcing his gaze to meet Darkus's, hoping for a response.

“That’s not enough,” Darkus interjected, his tone not reproachful, but rather as if he were covering for him. “As far as I know, when the Sword Saint Hoss handles these matters… it’s more like an action team? Calling it an investigation is more like confirming a target? And after confirming the target…”

He didn't show even a hint of sarcasm or speechlessness; instead, he smiled. As he finished speaking, he opened his hands.

After a brief silence, the attendees burst into laughter. The laughter contained both agreement and an attempt to ease the tension, as if they had finally found an outlet after this tense exchange.

As the laughter subsided, he continued.

"Then... let's leave it at that for now? My idea is to hold a meeting after the war ends to introduce you to Wetil, Rein, and Egileser. After that... we'll talk about it then? You can choose a position that suits your needs and allows you to utilize your strengths."

Take another step back.

While his words seemed to offer room for choice, everyone present understood that this was actually a game of strategy where retreat was a form of advance. Dakota needed a statement from the Hossian system, not ambiguity; this was the true meaning behind his "we'll talk about it later" statement.

In reality, he needs more than just one agency; he needs multiple departments operating in parallel, like the CIA, NSA, and FBI, each independent yet mutually checking and balancing.

Currently, the role of the Shadow Hunter is roughly similar to that of the CIA, while the Egilsson manages the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), and the Wettier is closer to the FBI.

"How many cult members were captured? How were they dealt with?" With the matter temporarily settled, Darkus turned his attention back to Liv. As the head of the mission, he would naturally ask Liv, not anyone from the Horus faction, about this.

“Forty-two people, all brought back, still in the cabin.” Liv answered crisply, her voice clear and resonant throughout the hall. But she paused, as if deliberately leaving some room for interpretation, before adding, “In addition, I also brought back some other…” At this point, her gaze slowly shifted to the Moon Staff.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze instantly, and several pairs of eyes unconsciously followed her gaze. That staff, symbolizing power, redemption, and political maneuvering, carried more weight than any words at that moment.

Darkus nodded calmly, as if he had everything under control; he knew exactly what Levi's second half of her sentence meant.

The gift of the Moon Staff is itself an expression of attitude, a way for Liv to repay the Eternal Queen for saving her life. But on a deeper level, it reflects the Eternal Queen's political stance and position.

The Eternal Queen had no reason not to know that Liv was his person and what she represented politically.

"She didn't ask you to stay?"

"How did you know?" Liver paused for a moment, then asked instinctively.

Darkus stared wide-eyed, spread his hands, and feigned surprise, as if to say, "Shouldn't I know? Isn't this perfectly reasonable?"

In his mind, this was almost an inevitable deduction.

The Eternal Queen would certainly make a similar suggestion, allowing Liv to play the role she had in Azsorloth—as a bridge, a link, or even as her agent.

This is perfectly normal and expected.

If he were the Eternal Queen, he would definitely do something to offer conditions, after all, Liv is just too special and too unique.

“But I’m back!” Liver suddenly laughed, her tone light and cheerful. She tilted her head and stretched out her hands, as if to show some kind of determination, yet with a hint of teasing.

Darkus paused for a moment, then stood up, hastily and pretentiously straightening his robes, adopting a serious demeanor. At the same time, Liv also stood up with a smile.

Then, led by Springtwin, applause suddenly erupted in the hall.

Amid applause, Daxius and Lief embraced, a moment that not only reflected their personal friendship but also marked a perfect end to their mission.

However, as the applause subsided, he sat down again, his expression calm, a serious look on his face. He turned his head and his gaze fell on Schrinasto.

"You stay here for now. I'll call Hemara back, and you can coordinate with her then."

When Schrinassto nodded, a mechanical, subconscious gesture, a sense of unease stirred within him. That short sentence implied a series of handovers and integrations to come, potentially even leading to new troubles. But before Darkus, he dared not reveal even a hint of emotion, maintaining only silent obedience.

"Select ten! Kill them! You are to carry out the order!"

"Darkus spoke again, his voice calm, yet it cut through the air like a sharp blade, chilling to the bone," he said.

His tone was flat, devoid of any anger, as if he were arranging something utterly mundane, as if drawing lots, calling roll, and carrying out executions were all just the same kind of trivial task to him. (End of Chapter)