Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Dinner was still unpalatable for the elf, but thankfully it was somewhat comforting today.

The spellcasters stationed at the camp piloted raiding ships to attend meetings, report on the camp's situation, and deliver documents. The few boxes of Avilin fruit and canned fruit they brought back on their return to the camp became the most anticipated garnish of the meal.

In short: A batch of fresh fruit and canned goods were airlifted back.

The pear-shaped Avilin fruits sat in a wooden box, their skins gleaming with a pale sheen, as if bathed in the soft glow of twilight. This fruit was no ordinary fruit; it was a magical fruit, a specialty of Azsorloth, exuding a captivating sweet fragrance that lingered, seemingly awakening a deep-seated craving within the taste buds. However, the flesh was not as sweet as its aroma; instead, it was filled with an intense bitterness, a bitterness that penetrated to the very back of the tongue and lingered for a long time.

Nevertheless, the Asleyans could not resist the allure of this fruit. For them, eating the Avelin fruit was almost a ritual, an unparalleled feast, and a staple food.

If consumed by human wizards, it will aid in meditation and grant them some kind of mysterious enhancement.

However, this fruit does not grant any real power to the elves; its only benefit is an indescribable yet incredibly real sense of satisfaction and fullness. It is this feeling that makes it so popular among the Asleys.

“Something’s strange…” Irisla took a small bite, then frowned. Her tongue was struck by a bitter taste, but there was also a faint sweetness? This was something she had never experienced in Azorloth.

“Because it’s from Ashriel.” Kayramine swallowed a mouthful of white bread, her tone calm and somewhat explanatory.

The Asleys didn't ask foolish questions like who Ashriel was; they knew for sure.

Since the dawn of a new era in Azsorloth, the lizardmen have settled there. They have had many dealings with the lizardmen, fighting alongside these ancient creatures to hunt down the beastmen lurking deep in the forest.

They had heard the lizard leader, who led the group, mutter about Ashriel and the mysterious continent of Lustria in his awkward and broken Elsalin language more than once. Those words were deeply imprinted in their memories. Over time, they also learned a few words of the lizardman language.

After saying that, Kayla Mayne reached out and handed the Aveline Fruit in her hand to Ryan Deer.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Ryan Deer paused for a moment, his hand hovering in mid-air, before asking.

“I can’t get used to it, it’s too bitter. I like sweet things.” As she spoke, Kayla Mayne raised her eyes and glanced at the unopened can of fruit in front of Ryan Deer’s lap, a meaningful hint in her eyes.

Ryan Deer understood immediately, smiled slightly, picked up the can and handed it over, while taking the Aveline fruit and stuffing it into his pocket without hesitation.

Even the Black Knight couldn't find fault with the exchange, and it was quietly reached.

What followed was a silent meal. The gentle tapping of the knife and fork against the lunchbox replaced words, becoming the only accompaniment at that moment.

In the military manuals of the Duruci army, loud noise and private conversation are strictly prohibited during mealtimes. Compared to the former, the latter restriction is more lenient. As long as several people do not whisper at the same time, thus causing a disturbance at the table, the Black Knights maintaining order will often turn a blind eye. This rule is only truly enforced when high-ranking officers or a distinguished person of high rank are present.

After a few whispers and discussions, the Asles gradually fell silent, following Duruci's example and eating in silence, adapting to local customs.

The atmosphere was therefore oppressive, yet surprisingly peaceful.

Just as they were halfway through their meal, the entire camp suddenly lit up.

The darkness was dispelled, and light burst forth from all directions, illuminating the military camp beneath the sky as if it were daytime. The Duruci and his men were accustomed to this, showing no surprise, and the Asleys did not exclaim at any miracle at this sudden change. They, too, were unsurprised. After all, they had witnessed similar scenes more than once while stationed in Lorthorn.

Compared to the calm reactions of Duruci and Asley, the Assurs completely broke down.

On the outskirts of the camp, the leader, hidden high in the branches, instinctively and swiftly concealed himself behind a tree the moment the camp lights came on. His eyes widened slightly, a sudden flash of light reflecting in them.

On the one hand, his eyes were momentarily disoriented by the sudden brightness, and his pupils contracted rapidly; on the other hand, a deep sense of shock and unease welled up within him.

The figure at the head was none other than the "Lord of Shadows"—Aris Anar.

After Lorthorn's meeting, he didn't try to sneak in, nor did he appear in Finnubal's bedroom to confront him directly, or even draw his sword and attempt an assassination, even though he knew very well what Finnubal would do next.

The outcome was exactly as he had predicted. Asul's fleet was not destroyed, and Finnubar opened the key to the inner ring of Ulthuan as scheduled—Lotharne.

What followed was the rapid advance of Duruci's troops, which swept deep into the heart of Asur. And even more terrifying, even devastating and catastrophic news followed in quick succession…

Malekith: Hi hi hi!

What should we do? Just give up?

If we're talking about what he did, he did.

He convened a meeting, gathering the Nagarius nobles who followed him, and issued a mobilization order, mobilizing the Nagarius forces. Upon hearing the news that Duruchi had appeared on the northern peninsula of the Kingdom of Elion, he did not hesitate to lead a group of shadow warriors ahead, crossing the crater.

But if we're talking about giving up, he did give up just like that.

He knew perfectly well what was going to happen next, and he knew the path Finnubar would inevitably choose, but he did nothing. He chose to stand by and watch coldly as everything unfolded before his eyes like a script.

Everything that happened during this period left him with extreme inner conflict, so complex that it was almost impossible to describe in words.

If emotions and mental states could be plotted as a wave, then at this moment, he was at the lowest point—an unprecedented low. He attributed the cause to the influence of Darkus and the shocks he had witnessed during his three campaigns in Nagarus. (Chapter 721)
However, what he didn't know was...

One of Liver's special skills is "Dream Weaving," an extremely rare secret art that only prophets can master. (Chapter 837)
Lilith would, and as a goddess connected to dreams, there's no reason why she wouldn't, especially since she's stronger than Lilith!
Ares leaned against the rough tree trunk, his back aching from the bark, but he didn't move an inch. He looked up at the moon hanging silently in the sky.

The moonlight was cold, like a detached gaze scrutinizing the world.

After a moment, he let out a long breath, as if that breath had taken away the pent-up frustration that had been weighing on his chest for so long.

He re-entered Nagarus twice after Morath's death.

The warning from Dakota at their first parting was still vivid in his mind. That warning, sharp as a gleaming sword, pierced his heart, leaving him with no doubt—if he dared to cause any trouble in the shadows, Dakota would kill him with his own hands!

So, on the latter two occasions, he chose silence and concealment. He no longer acted rashly, but tried to conceal the fangs of the Shadow King, disguising himself as a silent observer. He allowed himself to slowly immerse himself in it, to feel, to experience, and even to try to understand what Darkus called the "new era."

Finally, he chose to stay in Krakarond and work there.

He lived a life like any other ordinary worker, a period that could be considered the second happiest time in his thousands of years of life. There, he forgot all his troubles, and when operating the machines, he felt as if he had escaped this world and become a simple person, just like when he was young and ran freely in the wilderness.

After get off work, he would spend his time with the other workers at bars, bathhouses, and theaters. Occasionally, he would attend a colleague's wedding or watch the Duruci women fight and shout in the ring on the first floor. He would sit quietly in a corner, watching unfamiliar faces, listening to their noise, and observing the Duruci women's reactions.

He continued until he had to return to his apartment and his room to rest.

When he wasn't working, he would secretly go to the shipyard to watch the shipwrights at work and the new ships being launched; he would go to the high points around the train station to watch the trains coming and going; he would watch the training of Duruci's army, which became stronger, more terrifying, and also more orderly; and he would secretly watch the children in the orphanage learn and play under the guidance of their teachers.

He observed them, as if trying to find something in their innocence, to find what he had lost.

(Chapter 721, I recommend going back to read it, it's too long to repeat here)

Due to his outstanding performance at work, he was transferred to the raider assembly workshop, where he gradually discovered the secrets hidden by the raiders and learned about their core strengths and weaknesses.

This information was not obvious; it was gradually pieced together through countless handling, observation, and even secretly touching of the parts.

Meanwhile, the constant comings and goings of the warlocks and val priests in the workshop next door also caught his attention. He had once risked sneaking in, using the darkness and noise as cover, and glimpsed the interior from behind a half-open door.

At that moment, the blue light shone on his face, cold and dazzling, as if some kind of irrational force was dancing in the air.

The camp's light came not from traditional torches, oil lamps, or campfires, but from the secret he discovered—the very thing the sorcerer Duruchi spoke of: electricity!

That light was different from the stars; it had no temperature, but it had a compelling presence that dispelled the darkness while also making him feel uneasy and cold.

In fact, Aris's judgment was correct.

Duluch actually invented electricity, not through some far-fetched idea or incredible miracle, but by genuinely paving the way for technological advancement through their own methods. There was no external assistance, no divine intervention; it was all the result of researchers painstakingly carving out their own path. It's just that their approach was a bit unusual, a little off-track…

Initially, spellcasters and Vaal priests carefully channel the energy from the confinement box into a specially designed focusing coil. As the energy flows through the main coil, it instantly and drastically alters the magnetic field inside and around the coil, depending on its intensity and fluctuations.

However, this method is unstable. When the Egil wind is too strong, the focusing coil is very prone to overload. Such overload is not a small spark, but is enough to trigger a series of explosive chain reactions.

Therefore, researchers have had to look for more stable solutions.

Thus, the magic generator and its supporting equipment came into being.

Researchers inserted a constraint box containing an arcane orb directly into a magic generator, creating a thermoelectric effect-like process. As the embedded runes on the magic generator were gradually inscribed and activated, a stable direct current finally appeared.

At this point, electricity is no longer a raging force that could explode at any moment, but a stable energy source that can be controlled and distributed through accessories such as cables, wires, connectors, and switches.

This explains why Asaniel reacted so strongly when he was illuminated by a searchlight during his dive.

However, Duruci currently limits the use of electricity to military applications, particularly defense and reconnaissance.

As for production and people's livelihoods, they will continue to be maintained in the same way as before.

In Dakos's view, there was no need for upgrading at the current stage of overproduction. He calmly judged that what Duruci urgently needed now was not to lay the power grid to every household and let ordinary people enjoy so-called convenience. Everything now was temporary; the relocation would have to wait until they moved to Ausuan, where they could deal with laying the power grid, studying fuel distribution, establishing departments, and determining standards.

What Trudeau truly needs right now is a fuel-powered vehicle that can deliver supplies on time and train drivers in large numbers. For him, factory upgrades and widespread electric lighting are far less important than getting military supplies to the front lines.

Of course, this situation is not static.

When the war becomes so intense that he has to directly reinforce the army with workers, leaving factories unmanned and production halted, he will be truly forced to undertake a comprehensive upgrade.

By then, you'll have no choice but to upgrade.

As the searchlight swept past, Aris took a deep breath, stuck his head out, and stared intently at the distant camp.

In the direction where Ares was, five searchlights were erected high on the watchtower, their lights crisscrossing and fragmenting the night sky. The Duruci, operating the searchlights, maintained extremely rhythmic movements. They gripped the cranks, turning them at a pace that was neither too fast nor too slow, strictly adhering to a trained rhythm to ensure that the beams covered every corner, avoiding any blind spots or dead zones.

His eyesight was sharp; he could even see that, except for the side with the ladder, the watchtower was completely blocked off by thick iron mesh. He knew this was to defend against arrows and ranged attacks, and that the mesh could prevent the enemy from shooting Duruci or destroying the searchlights.

Then he pulled his head back. In the darkness, he exhaled softly, trying to calm his heartbeat.

There was no way around it; the searchlight turned back, its cold white beams slicing through the night like blades. If it lingered for even a moment longer, it would expose him completely.

Only after the searchlight slowly moved away did he hold his breath again, cautiously peek out, and focus his gaze back on the perimeter of the camp.

The area had been completely cleared, forming a buffer zone approximately fifty meters wide. The barren ground was glaringly exposed when the searchlights swept across it; there was no cover whatsoever, not a single blade of grass or stone to offer any cover. To launch a surprise attack, he and his Shadow Warriors would have to quickly cross this buffer zone, practically exposing themselves completely naked to the enemy.

But for them, this is nothing.

Ares knew very well that with the speed and skill of the Shadow Warriors, they could cross the isolation zone in five to six seconds, which was enough time for them to come and go like the wind.

Searchlights are terrifying, but they are not an insurmountable threat.

Even with the iron netting blocking his way, the Moon Bow in his hand could solve the problem. That ancient bow was not hindered by anything mortal; the magical arrows he shot could not only penetrate the iron netting but also accurately destroy the searchlights, completely annihilating the dazzling light source.

However, the real trouble was just beginning.

After crossing the cordon, they had to face a barbed wire fence that was two and a half meters high.

The thing was like a cold wall, firmly blocking the perimeter of the camp. It wasn't an obstacle that could be overcome by agility alone; simply jumping wouldn't do any good. Only by using hydraulic shears could a breach be created.

The problem is that Duruci has this tool, but he doesn't.

This means that if they stop to tear through the barbed wire, they will buy precious time. That time will be enough for Duruchi to react and for them to turn their ballistae around and counterattack. Once the splitting arrows are fired, the shadow warriors operating at the edge of the barbed wire will inevitably face annihilation.

Of course, there are solutions.

The shadow warriors providing cover will immediately come into play, attacking with lightning speed in the shortest possible time to shoot down Duruci, who is operating the ballista.

But the real challenge is yet to come.

Behind the barbed wire fence stretched a protective wall that enclosed the entire camp, like a cold, deep ditch that completely suppressed any hope in people's hearts.

Ares knew very well that even he couldn't jump over it; the only way was to swim across.

But swimming across would mean exposing more weaknesses, and the presence of the moat would undoubtedly force them to slow down, giving Duruci enough time to deploy troops behind the wall and launch a counterattack.

Worse still, he had no idea what lurked underwater. What if there was barbed wire hidden in the river? What if there were grappling hooks or stakes lying on the bottom that could entangle a passing body?

These uncertainties are the most frightening thing.

Even if they manage to swim across, they will still have to face a wall nearly three meters high.

Duluqi's craftsmanship was impeccable. They were skilled at building fortifications, and the outer walls of the enclosure were polished to an extremely smooth finish, with even the smallest gaps smoothed out, leaving almost no place to lean on.

Trying to climb up barehanded is nothing short of a pipe dream; one can only rely on grappling hooks and ropes. But Duruci on the wall is no fool.

All of this looks like a hedgehog covered in barbs, impossible to bite.

But Aris knew very well that there were still solutions, and many at that.

For example, they could lure the giant beasts in the crater to the area, letting those behemoths draw Duruch's firepower and take the opportunity to break through the defenses; or they could cut down a tree that was thick and long enough, lay the trunk across the top of the barbed wire and the wall, and launch a forced assault; or even, they could launch an attack from all four sides at the same time, forcing Duruch to mobilize his forces and find a breakthrough in the chaos.

But doing so makes no sense.

First, he didn't know how many Duruci were in the camp, nor how many Asleys or Enirs were mixed in. The number of archers was unknown; his team had skilled archers, but the Duruci had no shortage of them either. Once the two sides were evenly matched at long range, his advantage would vanish.

Although he couldn't ascertain the exact number of the enemy troops, one thing was clear—Druucci's soldiers were fully armored, making them exceptionally difficult to deal with in close combat.

If the raid were to be delayed even slightly, and if the Duruci armored soldiers and the Asley archers were to coordinate their attacks, the Shadow Warriors would be wiped out little by little, even if they managed to break into the camp.

In addition, Duruci also has cavalry, chariots, hounds, spellcasters, and raiding ships, giving him the ability to counter-encircle raiding forces at any time.

In a head-on confrontation, even if we manage to take over this camp, the cost will be extremely high.

Not to mention, how many more camps like this does Duruci have?

He doesn't think there's only one, but many.

Countless camps are scattered like stars in the forest and in strategic locations. What can be gained by capturing one of them?
What's the point?

Was it to announce to Trucchi—that he had arrived? And thus provoke Trucchi to launch a siege?

As for infiltration and tongue-grabbing, those are completely out of the question.

Ares knew very well that there were strict passwords and codes inside the Duruqi camp, and how to get in was also a big problem.

He looked down at the ground, his mind flashing back to the information he had gleaned from those markings.

There were very few footprints; the only traces that appeared were left from picking up arrows.

What does this mean?
This indicates that the troops stationed outside the camp in the Durucci camp were almost entirely cavalry or chariot units.

Worse still, Duruci's march was not haphazard, but rather carried out in groups, with each group maintaining a chain-like connection, able to see each other and quickly transmit information through flag signals, horns, and even shouts.

In theory, he and his shadow warriors are perfectly capable of using the terrain to exploit blind spots and quickly annihilate a team; it's not impossible. But the question is, what happens next?

Warhorses are loyal to their masters.

Changing clothes and disguising himself—methods he had rehearsed countless times in his mind—were almost useless here.

These warhorses possess a certain innate intelligence; during the Shadow Warriors' costume change, they could easily break free of their reins and run away, neighing incessantly. A single, brief neigh would be enough to attract the attention of the surrounding troops.

At this point, the operation was completely stalled.

Let alone changing clothes and mounting horses, simply controlling these warhorses that had pledged allegiance to their masters was nearly impossible. Imagine, as soon as they made their move, before they had even finished changing clothes, the surrounding troops were already alerted and gathered around.

Even if they risked being forced to mount, those warhorses would never obediently submit to letting strangers ride on their backs, especially those warhorses that had witnessed their comrades being shot.

Next, things become even more difficult to proceed. There's no need to even go to the quarantine zone to organize the teams; other teams will discover the problems, and so on...

Who are you? Who are you all?
The same applies to chariots.

The charioteer and the horses had a close understanding; if the horses sensed an unfamiliar presence, they would not obey and would simply lead the chariot away.

As for the hunting dogs, they're even more troublesome; if you're going to kill them, you have to kill them all.

The dog barks, the horse runs, and the main focus is on spirituality.

This is the real reason why you can't catch the tongue.

It's impossible to arrest them all; to arrest them all would require arresting them all, but arresting them all would inevitably trigger a chain reaction. One echo after another would only attract all the patrols and peripheral troops, eventually escalating into a large-scale encirclement and suppression operation.

If that's the case, why not just do the opposite?
Instead of trying to infiltrate, why not ambush the Duruci outside the camp and wipe them all out?

But then the question arises: what is the point?
Tell Duluch: He, Aris, has arrived!

Then wait for Duruci to come out in full force, launch a heavy attack, mobilize a larger number of troops, and carry out an overwhelming encirclement and suppression.
At this moment, the image of a dog biting a hedgehog becomes a tangible representation.

The enemy was fully armed and well-prepared, while his available methods were restricted at every turn, making it almost impossible for him to use them.

Ares leaned slowly against the tree trunk behind him, his thoughts churning as he considered one possible path after another, only to find himself in dead ends time and time again. Over time, he even felt as if his mind was entangled in an invisible net, the more he struggled, the tighter it became.

Finally, he couldn't help but let out a bitter smile, a smile that carried helplessness, self-mockery, and a hint of barely perceptible weariness.

Dakos is right, times have really changed.

During the Great Schism, he didn't need to think so much, nor did he need to consider things repeatedly. The way of fighting back then was direct and pure—just launch a surprise attack on the camp.

Once the lights are extinguished and the camp plunged into darkness, the Duruci men will be like lambs to the slaughter, thrown into chaos. He has plenty of ways to deal with these dark brethren; his methods and experience are already well-established.

Alandrian was captured alive in such a surprise attack; everything was swift and decisive, without any unnecessary delays. (Chapter 619)
Following the major split, Trucchi's military prowess improved across various aspects, but overall, the growth trend was linear. While there were occasional formidable opponents and situations, there were always opportunities and methods to deal with them. But now…

This is completely different.

This was not a slow accumulation, but a sudden leap.

This growth is like a straight line being forcibly stretched upwards, without any buffer or interval, shooting straight up.

He slowly exhaled, his expression gradually turning speechless.

He knew; he finally understood.

Why did Trucchi do this? Why did he arrange it this way?

The answer flooded his mind almost instantly. He knew it was a setup, a trap, a wait. Duruci had known he would come all along, and had calculated his thoughts and actions. The camp they had set up was not only for defense, but also a lure.

Everything was prepared for him.

I'm waiting for him here!
As the searchlight beam silently swept across the forest once more, cutting through shadows and light, he slowly poked his head out, his eyes fixed on the interior of the camp.

At that moment, his heart sank.

"The 15th Army Group!"

The answer came crystal clear to him; he was absolutely certain that this camp belonged to the Fifteenth Army. He had personally seen the flag that symbolized the Fifteenth Army in Krakarond, and that army's garrison was located outside the city of Krakarond, while the Venom Forest was their training ground.

Everything before us is without suspense; all signs confirm this judgment.

In silence, he quietly retreated, turned and disappeared into the night, leaving only the moonlight shining in the empty forest, as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Keramayne and Dragiel, unaware that the enemy had infiltrated and been observing, were leading the Aasleys to the kennels for some after-dinner entertainment.

The way to pass the time is very simple and straightforward—chop meat.

It's time to feed the dog.

Feeding the dogs is strictly timed and measured. In peacetime, they are fed twice a day, while in wartime, this increases to three times, with one feeding occurring in the middle of the night. This is to ensure that the hunting dogs maintain ample strength and fighting ability should any emergencies occur during that period. However, there's no need to prepare meat for the evening meal as well as meat for the midnight meal, because dog food is sufficient for the midnight feeding.

Under Duru's guidance, the four Asleys began clumsily but diligently chopping meat. The thud of blades striking the cutting board echoed through the night, accompanied by splattering bits of meat and blood, and the air was filled with a rusty, metallic stench.

After chopping the meat, guided by Duruchi, they fed it piece by piece to the black wolves. The huge hounds opened their bloody mouths, their sharp teeth gleaming coldly, and made low chewing sounds as they swallowed. Then, they took out the already opened bag of dog food from the warehouse and poured it into the trough to continue distributing it.

In Keira Mayne's words, this was done to further increase the bond between Asley and the hounds. He emphasized that the entire process was in accordance with the manual requirements, logical, and flawless.

After the feeding was finished, it was indeed the two Duruci who took over the cleanup. They were skilled and meticulous, wiping the bloodstains on the cutting board repeatedly, rinsing the butcher knife in the iron bucket several times, and finally scrubbing the iron bucket thoroughly. The whole process was impeccable and almost harsh.

The Asleys didn't say anything about this, because they knew what was going to happen before they arrived. They actually thought Keramane was too rigid in these matters, but they didn't want to say much. Although the afternoon's break time allowed both sides to acknowledge each other's strength, they still weren't very familiar with each other.

Throughout the entire finishing process, the Asleys stood quietly in front of the feeding trough, watching.

After adding water, they went to the stables and took a walk around.

After feeding the horses, they returned to their tent.

Kayla Mayne walked at the front of the group, carrying a long wooden box. The box was dark from years of use and had a few scratches on the edges, but it was wiped extremely clean, showing how much its owner valued it.

Asley, who was following behind, knew what was in the box—a harpoon!
“You take them there.” After returning to the tent, Keira Mayne turned to look at Drakil.

"Go where?" Serarian couldn't help but ask, his face full of curiosity, his tone even revealing a hint of caution, as if he was worried about hearing some answer he didn't want to face.

Kayla Mayne curled her lips slightly and coldly uttered a single word.

"bath!"

(By reading this far, you can probably guess what will happen next. This part will end in tragedy and the Shadow King breaking down. The foreshadowing has already been laid, and the point of convergence for all these foreshadowings is in Krakarond, with the two beast tamers and the Shadow King. I won't spoil the details. But as I was writing, I realized it might not be necessary? Maybe we can talk about it directly? So, we can skip this part and go straight to the point. Let's focus on the Shadow King's change in mindset and his decisions, showing scenes of beating him up and replicating his past. Feel free to leave comments and discuss in the group.) (End of Chapter)