Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Dragil first instructed Philendil and Irisla to remove their valuables and hand them over to the other two Asleys for safekeeping. However, the two Asleys readily stated that they had no valuables on them.

The whole process went smoothly, and the fact that there were no valuables was one of the few unexpected issues.

The so-called bathrooms were actually just shower rooms in the camp, separated for men and women, neatly arranged and clean. Unlike the rough military camp one might imagine, the conditions here were luxurious. Apart from the food being a little monotonous, almost everything else was provided: there was electricity, water, and plenty of hot water.

After washing her hair, Irisla skillfully dried it and then put the washed clothes into the spin dryer. The whole process was very simple; she didn't need to lift a finger. She just had to press a button and stand there, or place the clothes in the designated spot, and it would be done in half a minute.

She appeared remarkably composed throughout the entire process, as if it were second nature to her. She made no shouts, showed no surprise, and even displayed a calm, habitual air. After all, she had experienced similar environments and procedures while stationed in Lorthen, so they were nothing new to her.

The entire camp's water, electricity, and supporting equipment were actually managed and maintained by the spellcaster. Various life hacks and other auxiliary magic were combined with crafting equipment to create many "magical artifacts" that were more useful than traditional electrical appliances, being both stable and efficient.

The convenience of magic...

When Drakil returned to the tent with the two Asleys, Keramane was sitting at his desk, having finished maintaining the two harpoons. He was now patiently wiping the long wooden chest, his movements methodical. Then he looked up, his expression calm and serious.

"Tonight, you will serve as the vigilance force."

"How exactly do we do it?" Philendil couldn't help but ask.

“You don’t need to patrol the camp, nor do you need to stand guard.” Keramane raised his hand, repeating what he had said at noon. “You have immunity.” He paused here, his gaze falling on Philendil and Irisla, his expression profound. “What you need to do is sleep and rest. But one thing, you cannot remove your helmets, chokers, and breastplates. Remember, sometimes the Black Knights will conduct surprise checks, understand?”

The four Asleys nodded in succession, understanding Keramane's implication: It was certainly permissible to undress while sleeping, but there were risks involved. They were gambling on whether the Black Knight would conduct a surprise inspection, or whether they could don their gear in time before the Black Knight approached, leaving no evidence—this was something they needed to weigh themselves.

"Do you want to wear it all the time?" Irisla asked tentatively, her voice tinged with slight hesitation.

“Yes, wear them until you bathe tomorrow night.” Keramane’s tone was decisive, leaving no room for negotiation. He then slowly turned his gaze to Ryan Deer and Serarian. “Tomorrow night it will be our turn to wear them, and we’ll wear them until we bathe the day after tomorrow. This is to prepare for any emergencies that might occur in the middle of the night. If anything happens, you must immediately put on the remaining armor, grab your weapons, and head straight for the stables. You both know what to do next.”

The four Asleys nodded simultaneously. Although they had only arrived at noon, they had already gone through all the necessary procedures since then. At this moment, they clearly understood what to do if it really came to that.

Seeing that the Asleys understood, Keramane nodded, stood up, looked at Dragiel, and gestured towards the box containing the harpoon. Then, he slowly pulled a small green frog from his pocket and handed it to Dragiel, who had already approached. The action seemed casual, yet it revealed a familiar tacit understanding, as if they had already gone through countless such private exchanges.

After Keramane left with Ryandeer and Seraphim, the small clearing fell silent. Drakil sat there, leaning slightly forward, fiddling with the green frog in the lamplight. His gaze was focused, almost obsessive, as if, in this moment, he wasn't a warrior, but had returned to a distant, quiet time belonging to his childhood.

It's called a green frog, but it's actually a wind-up frog, a toy.

Featuring a classic design with a green sheet metal casing and a mechanical spring mechanism, the metal seams are still visible at the corners. Its operating principle is simple: by manually winding the spring, the frog leaps and thrashes on the ground, each click acting as a command, propelling its limbs up and down. This simple mechanism, combining entertainment and educational value, makes it one of Trulucci's most representative mechanical creations.

Meanwhile, Philendil and Irisla were adjusting their armor. Their movements were unhurried, trying to achieve maximum comfort around their shoulders, neck, and waist. The metal plates rubbed together, producing a soft rustling sound, occasionally broken by the click of a belt buckle tightening.

When Keira Mayne and the others returned after washing up, the open space had become a completely different scene.

Philendil and Irisla were bundled up in four layers: an innermost vest, then a Druich standard military uniform, covered by armor, and finally the brown-green Asley-style clothing they had worn upon arrival. These layers made them appear exceptionally heavy. They stood around Drakil, watching with interest as he fiddled with the wind-up frog, their eyes filled with both curiosity and a hint of bewilderment.

When Kayla Mayne returned, she merely glanced at the scene and said nothing.

As a close friend of Drakil, he knew very well that this clockwork frog, which was now almost ubiquitous in Nagaros and had become commonplace on every street corner, had a completely different meaning for Drakil.

It can even be said to be a unique existence!
Dragil had three children, but he never gave the wind-up frog to any of them, keeping it as a precious possession. In his words, it was a family heirloom, but he would keep it until he died.

The reason for this is that the origin of this item is very special—it was a gift personally given to the children by the generous and benevolent Witch King when he visited the orphanage.

Dracule will always remember the scene when Dakota squatted down, looked him in the eye, and placed the little gadget in his hand with a smile.

That moment was one that an orphan would remember for a lifetime.

Over time, the wind-up frog's appearance has become somewhat strange; the paint is peeling, and in some places, the dark metal underneath has even been exposed. This is understandable, given the less-than-ideal painting techniques of the time; such a state is inevitable over time.

But it wasn't completely abandoned. When Drakil was still in Nagarus, he specially found paint to repaint it. However, his craftsmanship was far from exquisite; the lines were stiff, and the color distribution was uneven, making it look rather comical and strange. Yet, he himself harbored a stubborn satisfaction with this ugly patch.

As for the internal structure, it has been replaced countless times. He has repaired every single one of them—wearing gears, broken springs, misaligned couplings—and even bought new ones to replace them.

It could be said that this frog truly deserves the title of "The Frog of Theseus." The only thing that hasn't changed is its shell, which it stubbornly retains, as if guarding some kind of memory.

After performing a thorough maintenance, Dragil wound up the clockwork. With a click-clack sound, a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips, and he began to play with it like a child.

He constantly flipped and manipulated his two palms, making the little frog jump from one palm to the other with extraordinary agility, just like an acrobat.

Philendil and Irisla were both stunned.

When the wind-up frog's energy gradually wore off and its movements ceased, Dragil carefully wiped its surface with gentle movements, as if handling a sacred object. Then, he solemnly put it away, tucking it back into his pocket, as if completing a solemn ritual.

This scene is a daily occurrence.

From the day she met Dragil, Kayla Mayne had gotten used to watching him repeatedly fiddle with that tin frog.

In fact, the frog was a recurring theme in their childhood. To protect it, he and Dragil even got into a fight with other kids. The small conflict escalated into a big one, and his parents were called in. It was precisely because of that incident that their friendship deepened.

Many years have passed since then.

Although this scene plays out almost every day, day after day, Kayla Mayne never tires of watching it. The scene before him gives him a sense of peace and reassurance.

After Drakil carefully put the wind-up frog away, Keramane looked up at the sky, let out a long breath, and appeared extremely relaxed. Freed from the constraints of his armor, he leaned back in his chair as if a heavy stone had finally been lifted, his limbs completely relaxed, and his expression languid.

Drakil turned his head, glanced at Keira Mayne with a hint of helplessness in his eyes, and then shook his head.

He knew perfectly well that his own laziness, along with other factors, had kept him stagnant. But Keramain was different. He was always exceptionally bright, learning many things on his own, grasping them instantly, and was incredibly hardworking and diligent, almost to the point of being demanding of himself. From the moment he met Keramain until recently, these qualities remained unchanged.

Animal trainers are a rare technical branch of the military, holding a higher status than ordinary soldiers, and naturally receiving much more generous treatment, pay, and points.

Now, Kayla Mayne has worked her way up to the fourth tier, while Dragil is still stuck at the third tier.

Nevertheless, Draghir's military achievements and benefits were still enough to support a family and allow his wife and children to live comfortably. Moreover, his family held the qualifications for "housing exchange" and "land exchange," which could be redeemed for real land and a place to live once the war ended. Like the other Duruci, he believed in Dakos's promises.

Even if he were to die on the battlefield, the future of his wife and children would still be guaranteed by the system. And if he lived until the end of the war, his family would surely achieve even greater glory through his military merits, years of service, and the efforts of his wife and children.

For someone who was born an orphan, this achievement was already a dream come true.

Drakil still vividly remembered the heartfelt joy and pride he felt when Keramane broke through to the third tier. Because in the new era's system, beast tamers were officially divided into five tiers, and reaching the third tier not only meant the ability to continue advancing but also the option to change jobs and forge a completely new path.

Keramane had long planned to become a Black Knight, advancing his own and his family's honor.

To achieve this goal, he practically squeezed out every spare moment. He was constantly either engrossed in case files or silently questioning and answering himself, conducting self-interviews whenever he had a spare moment, to the point that even Drakiel found it increasingly annoying. Because during those times, Drakiel had to act as the interviewer, forcing himself to rehearse with him.

Not to mention, whenever the Black Knights in the camp had free time, Keramane would go out of his way to ask them questions, not letting go of any details. Even if it was just a minor detail about the daily rules, he would repeatedly confirm it, to the point that the Black Knights would avoid him.

His efforts were not in vain.

Her scores in the martial arts and written tests were as excellent as ever, almost flawless. Everyone thought that as long as she passed the interview and the political review, Kayla Mayne would be able to achieve her dream and wear the Hadrica, a symbol of glory.

result……

Kayla Mayne's interview went smoothly, and she performed even better than expected, almost flawlessly. But at the last step, the background check shut her out.

His and his parents' identities were categorized as "sensitive." Until the sensitive period ended, he was not eligible to join the ranks of the Black Knights. No matter how outstanding his grades, no matter if everyone acknowledged his worthiness, no matter how thoroughly he prepared, the outcome would still be the same.

Fortunately, his wife and children were not implicated. At least after the political vetting scandal, their lives and military service continued as usual, and it did not even hinder him from continuing on his path as an animal trainer.

Unfortunately, this path came to an abrupt end when he advanced to the fourth level, like a path suddenly blocked by a thick stone wall, with no way out ahead.

Between the fourth and fifth ranks lies an almost insurmountable chasm, much like the difference between an ordinary colonel and a high-ranking general.

That requires not only hard work and accumulation, but also extremely rare talent and opportunity. In other words, it's not a breakthrough that can be easily achieved simply by taming an unimaginable beast and praying to the goddess of the wild hunt.

The trials of fate are often more severe than people imagine.

That's why Kayla Mayne seems to be giving up now. His sharpness has become dulled by the impact of reality. When he has nothing to do, he always falls into long silences, either lost in thought or sighing softly, as if there is something unspeakable weighing on his heart.

His inclusion in the sensitive category was not unfounded, nor was it a ploy by someone to target him; rather, it was connected to an old case. While receiving the blessing, he was also entangled in the power of the curse, and the traces of that coexistence of light and shadow remain an indelible mark on him to this day.

After a long silence, he turned his head and looked at the Asleys, his tone filled with a mixture of inquiry and helplessness.

"I'm curious, why are you here?"

“It’s so boring staying in Lorthorn.” Lyndier, who was busy maintaining his bow and arrows, didn’t look up. His voice was calm and carried a carefree air.

The other Asleys nodded in agreement. For them, this was the most direct answer.

"Is boredom greater than danger?" A look of disbelief appeared on Keira Mayne's face.

Frowning, he couldn't understand these foreign Asley warriors at all. He had no choice; he was a soldier and had to obey orders. Even though the place was fraught with danger, he could only accept it.

But these Asleys are different; they are warriors, but not soldiers.

“That’s because you haven’t been to Aesoloron.” Philendil raised his eyes and sighed with deep emotion.

“I’ll go check it out when I have the chance,” Kayla Mayne replied casually, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Danger is everywhere there.” This time, Ryan Deer raised his head.

He said this not to provoke, but to avoid an awkward silence. He understood that if the conversation stalled again, the empty space would only be filled with an uncomfortable silence, and that appropriate communication was necessary so that both sides could gradually understand each other.

“I heard Asley, who lives in Nagarus, talk about it…” Keramane picked up the conversation and continued the discussion.

They then started chatting casually. The topics seemed light and unrelated, but they subtly brought them closer together.

“I am a ranger…” Ryan Deer was about to explain when he was interrupted.

“It’s the Wanderer!” Irisra retorted jokingly, a hint of mockery in her eyes.

Serarian and Philendil immediately booed.

"And you?" Kayla Mayne asked with a smile, a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

"Forest Rangers!" "We are all forest rangers!"

"The Green Arrow family is an expert in this."

The voices of the Asleys rose and fell, carrying a unique sense of pride.

Just as Kayla Mayne was about to respond, a clear and long horn sounded, signaling the end of the break.

It's time for a break.

Keramane leaned against the tree trunk, the rough bark causing him pain in his chest and abdomen. When he looked down, the first thing he saw was his own legs, which lay limply on the ground.

In that instant, he instinctively tried to move, but quickly realized—he couldn't move. It was as if he was firmly bound by invisible shackles; his body had betrayed him.

When his gaze fell on his chest, he gave a bitter smile, a smile that was tinged with helplessness and a hint of self-mockery.

It wasn't a sharp pain from the impact; rather, an arrow had pierced his breastplate and embedded itself in the tree trunk behind him, pinning him firmly to the forest. He tried to raise his hand to grab the arrow and pull it out, but only then did he notice that he was still clutching the harpoon in its activated state, the cold metal still carrying residual heat, mocking his powerlessness.

Just as he was about to continue his actions, he heard another sound.

It was a deep, familiar rumble, which he immediately recognized—the sound of chariot wheels grinding through the woods, accompanied by the rapid hoofbeats of horses.

He looked up, following the direction from which the sound came. Despite the excruciating pain in his chest, he couldn't help but smile when he saw the scene, as if he had seen a glimmer of hope in boundless darkness.

Draghiel.

As a savior, he sped out of the dense forest, driving his chariot into view; at that moment, all suffering could be swept away.

However, the next second, Kayla Mayne's smile suddenly froze on her face.

He watched as Drakil, driving the chariot, was struck squarely in the throat by an arrow. The arrow pierced the supposedly sturdy throat guard with ease, as if it were merely a decoration. Drakil instinctively reached for the guard with both hands, blood seeping from between his fingers. Then, more arrows whistled through the air, raining down like a storm.

In the next instant, the warhorses were struck by a barrage of arrows, their neighs echoing through the forest, filled with excruciating pain. They staggered and fell to the ground, dragging the chariot along as it rolled and thrashed about with a heavy thud.

The chariot that should have symbolized majesty and power had now become an out-of-control iron coffin.

Without fastening his safety harness, Dragil was instantly thrown out, crashing heavily to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. Even his tin frog, which had been his companion for many years, was thrown out as well, landing far away and rolling alone among the mud and fallen leaves.

Meanwhile, Philendil, with an arrow lodged in his throat, was thrown about in a bizarre manner due to the safety harness; his body was stiff, and he almost fell sideways. Irisla's situation was even more tragic; a cold arrow shaft was stuck in her helmet, and she was crushed beneath the overturned chariot.

Clearly, by the time Dragil arrived in his vehicle, the two Asleys were already dead. Their bodies lay sprawled on the platform of the chariot, lifeless, cold, and cruel, so much so that he didn't notice them at first glance.

When he looked at Drakil again, he saw Drakil, who was lying prostrate on the ground, slowly raise his head. Drakil was wearing a mask, but he could still clearly see those eyes, which were filled with helplessness, deep sorrow, anger, and a hint of resentment and regret. Just that one glance seemed to tell a thousand stories.

But soon, Drakil's gaze shifted away. He no longer looked at Keramain, but instead struggled to crawl toward the tin frog. Each time his fingers dug into the soil, his movements were filled with desperate struggle; he was trying to hold the tin frog in his hand again before he died—his last obsession.

As Keira Maien watched this scene, the pain in her chest was replaced by an indescribable heaviness.

At that moment, the entire battlefield unfolded before his eyes.

Serarian was dead, but even in death, his hands remained gripping his spear tightly, his knuckles white, refusing to loosen their grip. Beneath his body lay the corpse of an enemy, his final spoils of war.

From Keramane's perspective, the corpse's appearance was blurry; he couldn't tell who it was, what race it belonged to, or what its face looked like.

As for the hunting dogs, they were clad in armor, but lying haphazardly in pools of blood, the scene was horrifying.

However, what chilled him even more was that there were no enemy corpses, no signs of struggle, no torn limbs beside the hound, only a swift and clean death.

Kayla Mayne immediately understood the reason.

All the hounds were killed by arrows shot from above. The enemy never appeared on the ground; they remained hidden high in the trees, like invisible ghosts, coldly reaping lives, so the hounds were unable to use their skills.

In addition, he saw his own chariot and warhorse.

The two warhorses that had accompanied him in battle, clad in armor, now lay stiff in the blood and mud, their eyes murky and unseeing; and the chariot, long since lost its former glory, lay overturned on the ground, broken and wrecked, the sound of wood and metal clanging still seeming to echo in his ears.

All the horrific scenes were laid bare before his eyes, cruel and merciless, leaving no room for illusion. But he didn't see Ryan Deer.

The question pierced my heart like a needle.

Traitor?
Was it Ryan Deer who secretly shot them one by one?

No… Kayla Mayne shook her head, a primal resistance rising within her.

He didn't want to believe it.

Ryan Deer is not that kind of person.

He preferred to believe that Ryan Deer had broken away from the chariot and lurked in the treetops, fighting the enemies hidden high above.

As if to confirm his suspicions, a dark figure fell from a high branch, crashing heavily to the ground and remaining motionless. Kaylamaine's heart tightened; he recognized it at a glance—it was Ryan Deer.

However, before he could catch his breath, another figure appeared right behind him. Unlike Ryan Deer's fall, this time the shadowy figure deliberately and steadily jumped down.

The figure landed lightly and silently, like a hunting owl.

He wore a blue hood, completely concealing his face in shadow. The darkness and fabric intertwined, making his features impossible to discern; only the cold indifference emanating from beneath the hood was visible. He gripped a bow tightly in his hand, the bow gleaming eerily in the moonlight, clearly no ordinary object.

As the figure slowly approached him, a strange illusion, an inexplicable sense of familiarity, welled up inside Keramane. His heart pounded faster and faster, sweat trickled down his forehead, and he felt as if he had seen him somewhere before… It was like a memory had been forcibly torn open, painful yet impossible to ignore.

When the figure finally reached him, slowly raised his hand, and pulled down his hood, all the doubts exploded in an instant.

Surprise, anger, confusion... a chaotic mix of emotions surged into my heart.

That's not an illusion.

He had indeed seen this face before, and not just seen it, but was extremely familiar with it, so familiar that it sent chills down his spine and made his breath catch in his throat.

He roared, suddenly raising the harpoon in his hand and howling with all his might.

"Yes……"

He was neither pierced by an arrow nor plunged into darkness. Just as he was about to cry out "you," a large hand suddenly covered his mouth.

That's Draghi.

Kayla Mayne snapped her eyes open, her breathing rapid, her vision snapping back from the blood-red illusion to reality.

He woke up.

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the light streaming through the tent, the scene before him slowly became clear. He patted Drakil's arm, and the latter slowly withdrew his hand.

Draghi looked at him and said in a low voice.

"Had a nightmare? You even screamed it out."

Kayla Mayne took deep breaths, his chest heaving as if trying to expel the pressure in his chest. He tried to calm himself down, and only when his breathing gradually subsided did he speak in a low voice.

"I saw him..."

Drakil, who was about to get up, froze halfway, his body pausing slightly. His gaze suddenly turned serious as he stared at Keira Mayne and asked in a deep voice.

"you sure?"

“I’m sure!” Kayla Mayne blurted out without hesitation.

“No wonder you can’t become the Black Knight…” Drakil was silent for a moment, then muttered to himself, his tone laced with sarcasm and a touch of helpless lament.

After saying that, he didn't look at Kayla Mayne again, but turned around and continued to get up. It was time to feed the dogs in the middle of the night, and he had to go and fulfill his duty.

Kayla Mayne was left alone in the tent. He ignored his friend's teasing and quietly looked up at the top of the tent, his eyes empty, yet filled with some unresolved obsession.

Meanwhile, Aris, who had been dozing among the branches, was suddenly jolted awake, his chest heaving and cold sweat beading on his forehead. He instinctively gripped the Moon Bow in his hand, his eyes quickly scanning the darkness until he was sure it was quiet and safe before he slowly exhaled.

But the flutter in my heart did not subside.

He had just had the same dream, but from a different perspective. In the final moments of the dream, he clearly saw himself standing right in front of Kayla Mayne.

Yes, it's Kayla Mayne.

He not only recognized him, but knew him intimately. That familiarity even made him almost blurt something out the moment he woke up, but in the end, he forcefully suppressed the impulse.

He let out a long breath, trying to relieve the pressure in his chest. He looked up, and the bright moon hung high in the sky, its cool light shining through the branches and leaves, illuminating his slightly pale face, as if silently witnessing everything.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Keramane slowly climbed out of the tent, his hands behind his back, and paced back and forth in the open space. A gentle night breeze blew, rustling a few leaves, and his footsteps left faint marks on the ground, but he paid no attention to them, his mind preoccupied with the dream he had just had and the vague unease that followed.

As Drakil slowly approached, Keramane remained lingering in the open space, his shadow stretching long and lonely in the moonlight. Finally, he stopped and lowered his voice.

"I'm going to report this."

Dragil didn't look at Kayramine with the kind of contemptuous or doubtful gaze he usually does, nor did he say anything sarcastic like "Are you out of your mind?", even though he didn't know what Kayramine had just dreamed about.

In this world, whether it's Asur, Duruchi, Aslai, or Enir, all elven races hold certain omens and revelations in awe.

"Do you need me to come with you?" Dragil asked softly, his tone tinged with concern.

Kayla Mayne shook her head, her eyes hardening slightly, yet still heavy with emotion.

"You continue to rest."

He patted Dragil on the shoulder, then turned and quietly left. (End of Chapter)