Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Life in the military is extremely dull and monotonous, even during wartime.

The daily rhythm remained almost unchanged. The reveille sounded precisely in the cool morning breeze, urging every soldier to crawl out of their tents. Immediately following was the routine morning exercise: either marching in neat rows or conducting physical training in open areas. The sounds of running, shouting, barking dogs, and clashing metal mingled together, forming the most common morning symphony in this military camp.

After that, it's time to wash up and eat breakfast.

After breakfast, the soldiers went about their duties, maintaining their armor, weapons, and defensive structures inside and outside the camp. The sounds of weapons grinding on whetstones and the clanging of metal armor fasteners being repeatedly inspected, mixed with shouts and orders, filled the air in the camp.

As beast tamers, Keramane and Drakil, while not involved in the tedious camp maintenance, still had a demanding job. They needed to carefully tend to the hounds and warhorses, inspect and repair the armor of these loyal fighting partners, and maintain the vehicles.

No detail can be overlooked, because once the battlefield arrives, any loose part or cracked belt could become a fatal flaw.

“They say…” Keramane’s voice was very low, as if afraid of being carried away by the wind, “He… might be the Shadow Lord.”

Dragil's eyes widened suddenly. The cigarette he had been holding in his mouth, which had no filter, was bitten off in half, and the tobacco at the broken end scattered all over the ground, along with the cigarette itself.

He stood frozen in place, as if struck by lightning, even his breath catching in his throat for a few seconds. It wasn't until Keramane bent down to pick up the cigarette that had fallen to the ground that he snapped out of his shock and asked urgently and incredulously, "Are you sure? Arius... is the Shadow Lord?"

The name "Lord of Shadows" has always been like a legend shrouded in mist for Duruci. Some say it's just nonsense, that it never existed, and that it's merely an excuse for failure; others, however, firmly believe that he truly lurks in the shadows, watching over everything.

But regardless of what people say, Tariendan and the army know the specifics.

In fact, this camp was originally set up for the Shadow Lord, which is why Keira Mayne asked the Asleys last night why they were here.

The "he" that Keramane mentioned, and the "Arius" that Dragil spoke of, were not unfamiliar to Dragil; they were not just acquaintances, but people he knew intimately.

He clearly remembered that the last time he saw Arius was at his wedding. The wedding was not extravagant, as it was a mass wedding held in a hall, where he and his wife, Kayla Mayne and her wife, and three other couples exchanged vows together on that day.

That was one of the most important moments of his life, and Arius was there. He still vividly remembers the smile on Arius's face—not a forced politeness, but a genuine joy and heartfelt blessing. That look was like that of an elder watching their carefully nurtured child finally grow up, get married, and establish themselves.

However, after that, Arius seemed to vanish into thin air, completely disappearing from their lives.

What followed was an investigation and a search.

The first to report the incident was the manager of the raider assembly workshop. The reason was extremely simple—Arius was supposed to be at the workshop on time that day, but he wasn't. That absence became the beginning of countless suspicions, and the investigation deepened, even alarming the mysterious and unknown relevant departments.

Even now, Dragil can still vividly recall every scene from the wedding; those images are etched into his memory like a brand. After all, it was not only a major event in his life, but also the last time he saw Arius in person.

Of course, just having met at a wedding doesn't mean you're very familiar with each other.

Before the wedding, Dragil had also met Arius. Because he and Keramain were close friends, Keramain often talked about Arius, whether it was childhood memories or growing up troubles, the conversation always circled back to this name, which made Dragil particularly curious about Arius.

As he grew older and finally reached the age where he could freely enter and leave the orphanage, he frequently went there and often stayed at Arius's residence.

Back then, he would bring his textbooks and do his homework there, play with Keramain, and help look after Keramain's younger siblings. Arius was more than just a guardian; he was like an older brother, often casually telling stories of the past after meals or in the evenings, sometimes about distant places they had never seen, sometimes about the wisdom of survival and the principles of life.

When he was beaten black and blue, Arius would comfort him and personally demonstrate and patiently teach him how to master the essentials of boxing—how to punch, how to defend, and how to stay calm in critical moments.

Those scenes are still as clear as they were yesterday.

On a fixed day each month, the orphanage would symbolically give a small amount of pocket money to the orphans who could freely come and go. The amount was pitifully small and not enough to cover their expenses.

Therefore, a large part of Delakir's snacks and small pleasures came from Alius's sharing. The heartwarming memories of a bag of candy or a small packet of dried fruit being divided into several portions and shared with the children became a bright spot in his heart.

In his eyes, Arius’s residence was not just a house, but a secret base, a place where he could temporarily forget his orphan status.

There is laughter, a sense of security, and warmth inside.

It can be said that although he did not have a complete family, his childhood was made incredibly wonderful by the presence of his close friends Kayla Mayne and Arius.

However, this warm presence was now revealed by Keira Mayne to be that Arius was the Shadow King, the enemy they now had to face and deal with.

How could this not shock him? He felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, his thoughts in turmoil, his heart heavy and tight.

“They’re just guessing.” Kayla Mayne sighed, her voice tired and hoarse, her expression complex as if shrouded in a shadow.

He was unusually out of sorts today. From the moment he woke up from his dream until now, he has been in a daze, as if he were trapped in some kind of knot in his heart that he could not break free from.

His feelings toward Arius were extremely complex.

Keramane's parents were factory workers who lived in a communal apartment building jokingly called "Nagalund Prison." When he was eight, Arius moved across the hall from them and became their neighbor.

From that moment on, the gears of fate began to turn quietly.

His first real contact with Arius was on a special night. That day, unusually, both his parents were on the night shift. By then, his parents were already quite familiar with Arius, so they entrusted him and his siblings to Arius's care with peace of mind.

From then on, things spiraled out of control.

Through repeated interactions, he gradually developed a deep trust and respect for Arius. Arius would patiently answer his questions when he was confused, encourage and comfort him when he was frustrated, and sternly stop him from being playful.

Arius taught him knowledge, told him stories, practiced with him, and even corrected his homework. Compared to his parents, who were often too tired and indifferent to care for him, he preferred to stay with Arius. Besides his own house key, he also wore the key to Arius's house on his waist; it was a symbol of his second home.

This intimacy, this indelible bond, ultimately became the reason why his and his family's identities were categorized as "sensitive."

"So how did they guess? What exactly did you dream about?" Drakil's voice broke the brief silence. He stared intently at Kayla Mayne, his tone urgent, his eyes filled with both doubt and a hint of panic.

Kayla Mayne sighed and told Dragiel everything she had seen in her dream, without hiding anything.

When he mentioned the tin frog, Draghi's expression changed, and a look of realization flashed in his eyes, as if a long-lost piece had suddenly been pieced together.

No wonder Kayla Mayne chose to report it; such a dream was too indescribable and too unusual.

If it were him, and one day he really reached the end of his life like in his dream, he would definitely hold that tin frog tightly in his palm before he died.

“They determined it by the bow,” Keramane said in a low voice, his tone heavy. “They believe that the bow I saw was very likely… the Moon Bow of the Shadow King.” After saying that, he raised his gaze and looked directly at Drakil, his eyes revealing an unprecedented seriousness.

Last night, he went directly to the highest-ranking person in charge of the camp—the deputy battalion commander.

The deputy captain was woken from his sleep, but there was no impatience in his expression. He did not coldly kick Kayla Mayne out, nor did he scold or question her. Instead, he calmly got up and sat down quietly to listen.

Keramain chose the vice-captain because of their mutual trust. He had saved the vice-captain's life during the battle against the Chaos Tide in Nagalos, when the vice-captain commanded the War Hydra instead of the tank. Neither he nor the vice-captain were currently in the Fifteenth Army's order of battle; the Fifteenth Army had not yet been formed at that time.

When he was halfway through recounting his dream, the deputy captain seemed to have fully woken up. His expression changed; his usually cold and stern eyes, hardened by countless battles, suddenly held a hint of seriousness, as if he had realized some terrifying possibility. He then reached for a pen and paper, asking him to start over and carefully recount the dream. As he spoke, words gradually appeared on the paper.

After he finished speaking, the deputy captain silently got up, walked out of the tent, and whispered some instructions. Not long after, the deputy captain returned, and a heavy silence filled the tent. Soon, Kledan, the Black Knight, and the spellcasters entered one after another and sat around the tent.

So, Kayla Mayne recounted the dream from beginning to end once again.

This time, I spoke more slowly and more completely.

After the presentation, the dream interpretation team was formed. They began to discuss in hushed tones, taking turns analyzing, judging, and speculating.

The conclusions were almost unanimous—the enemy they were facing was likely already lurking near the camp, secretly watching them; if it weren't for the lights, perhaps…

Aside from Keramain's dream, the most important thing is time. Based on the enemy's possible movements, the appointed time has arrived.

Afterward, the spellcaster left the tent, and when he returned, he had a booklet in his hand. He gestured for Keramane to describe in detail the shape, details, and rune patterns of the bow in the dream.

Keramane tried to recall as accurately as possible; the lines and curves were still clear. Then, the spellcaster opened the book, revealing a page with an image, and placed it before him.

The results are obvious.

The picture on the booklet was exactly the same as the bow he had seen in his dream.

That is the bow of the moon, without a doubt.

Whether Arius is the Shadow King or whether the overlap is due to some other reason remains to be discussed.

With that, the matter came to an end.

The deputy battalion commander neither ordered increased vigilance nor rashly issued military orders. His choice was to maintain the status quo, because any slight movement could alert the enemy.

In addition, he quietly assigned several tasks, one of which fell to Keramaine. At the same time, the spellcaster also gave Keramaine another task alone, without sharing it with anyone else.

“He’s here.” Drakil’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, his voice low and complex, as if he had been suppressing his feelings for a long time. “As an enemy…we might die at his hands next?” Before he could finish speaking, he gave a bitter laugh, his tone tinged with desolation. “So be it…dying at his hands is also a kind of…” He stopped mid-sentence, shook his head, and sighed deeply.

“I don’t know! Unless I actually see that face, it might be related to me…” Kayla Mayne pointed to his head as he spoke, looking distressed. He didn’t know how to express himself; he didn’t understand the relevant terminology.

“That’s fine.” Drakil was silent for a moment, but ultimately didn’t light the cigarette. He lowered his head, put the cigarette away, and returned it to the cigarette case. This time, he tried several times, his fingers trembling slightly, before he finally placed it steadily. After closing the cigarette case, he pressed it against his palm, as if to completely seal off some thought.

After saying that, he turned around and left without looking back, leaving Kaylamaine with only his receding figure. Just before lunch break, Ryan Deer reached out and stopped Kaylamaine, who was about to crawl into the tent.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked in a low voice.

Duruci didn't get enough rest, and neither did Asley.

Last night, everyone slept very restlessly.

Keira Mayne suddenly shouted, but fortunately, Drakiel covered her mouth, preventing it from piercing the night like a sharp blade and triggering a series of reactions.

But the sound was still heard by Ryandel, who was sleeping next door. Soon after, Serarian, Philendil, and Irisra also woke up. They didn't get up to disturb them, but simply lay quietly on their blankets, listening intently.

They heard it—the low, menacing conversation between the two animal trainers. Every word was clear, every phrase carrying an unspeakable weight. They understood what happened next, yet remained silent, refusing to break the heavy silence.

In the morning, Ryan Deer keenly noticed that Keramm and Drakil were acting completely strangely. Their movements and eyes seemed to be shrouded in some kind of shadow.

Finally, during his lunch break, he decided to make a move and stopped Kayla Mayne.

“I had a strange dream.” Kayla Mayne stopped, his voice low and hoarse, a grim smile almost eerie appearing on his face. “I dreamt that we were all dead… the warhorses, the hounds, all of them were dead.”

Despite it being broad daylight and the sun blazing, that smile still sent chills down Ryan Deer's spine, as if the temperature had dropped several degrees in an instant.

"The enemy is here?" His reaction was calm, his tone even, without any exclamation or panic.

"Probably? After all, it's just a dream, isn't it?" Kayramine gently patted Ryan Deer's shoulder, his expression heavy and weary. "Today's mission is a bit special, let's rest first." With that, he walked past Ryan Deer and swiftly entered the tent.

During their lunch break that day, neither Duruci nor Asley actually fell asleep; they simply lay quietly with their eyes half-closed, their minds churning with emotions.

The atmosphere was equally oppressive and suffocating as he inspected the warhorses in the stables. Even the horses seemed to be affected, pawing the ground restlessly. After the inspection, Keira Mayne knelt down and took a gun from a box.

Yes, besides the harpoon, he also had another gun—a flare gun.

This thing is shaped somewhat like a revolver, but it only has three chambers. The outside of the chambers is thoughtfully painted in three bright colors: green, yellow, and red.

Green represents safety;

Yellow represents being attacked;

Red represents impending destruction.

Kayla Mayne picked up the flare gun, glanced at it coldly, and then spoke.

"The enemy may have already arrived. You must use your skills to confirm whether they are really here! Once we enter the woods, concentrate and pay close attention to high ground!"

The Asleys exchanged glances, then nodded in unison, indicating that there was no problem.

Duluch and the Asleys immediately began a new round of preparations for departure. Pieces of armor were put on the warhorses and hounds, and every clang of metal felt like a blow to their hearts, reminding them that danger was approaching step by step.

When the small combat group appeared at the west gate of the camp, the deputy battalion commander was already waiting there. His figure was tall and stern, and beside him were five squads of fully armed infantry, ready to fight at any moment.

The atmosphere was so tense that the air seemed to freeze.

As the deputy battalion commander slowly lowered his salute, the small combat group crossed the suspension bridge, then traversed the isolation zone and headed straight for the depths of the forest.

The moment he entered the woods, Ryan Deer's eyes narrowed slightly, flashing with a sharp and cold light. Then, he slowly turned to look at Serarian, his gaze lingering on his brother's face for a moment—he saw the taut face, and the sharp glint in his eyes.

For Ryan Deer, the forest was like a book laid out before him, its branches, bark, soil, and air all serving as words. With a little interpretation, one could decipher the hidden messages within. And clearly, he wasn't the only one to have read this book; his brother had also discovered the clues.

Several branches high up were slightly twisted, their angles stiff and unnatural. This was by no means the product of wind and rain, but rather the mark left by some lithe sprite who forcibly twisted itself while leaping over them.

Ryan Deer's gaze followed the curve and quickly spotted tiny scratches on the tree trunk—marks left by the soles of his boots lightly touching the bark. Extremely subtle, almost imperceptible without close inspection, yet they did not escape the ranger's notice.

The enemy... is here!
And it happened last night!

He then patted Kayla Mayne on the shoulder, and Kayla Mayne instinctively turned around. When their eyes met, he simply nodded silently.

"Are they there?" Keira Maien asked in a low voice.

“I’ve left,” Ryan Deer replied briefly.

“Continue.” Kayla Mayne finally breathed a sigh of relief and nodded slightly.

The training proceeded as usual, but the atmosphere was completely different. On the surface, it was a routine drill, but underneath, it carried a certain tension and confrontation.

Pretending to pick up training arrows, Ryan Deer stood in front of a tree trunk, then suddenly leaped, his figure tracing a clean arc in the air before landing lightly on a thick tree trunk. He then assumed an odd posture, using his knees as a support to slowly crawl upwards.

Although the enemy has left, this silent battle continues.

This seemingly clumsy movement was deliberate, done to avoid leaving new marks on the tree trunk with his boots, thus preserving the clues left by the enemy and preventing them from returning to find someone had climbed the tree.

As he climbed to a higher position, he immediately adjusted his posture, landing steadily where the enemy had once stood. His fingers lightly touched the tree trunk, where there was a barely visible, shallow indentation, enough to indicate that someone had briefly stepped on it before leaping up again.

He held his breath and examined it carefully.

Several leaves had long, sharp cuts along their edges, marks left by a sharp weapon. He didn't rashly pluck the leaves, but instead brought his face closer, his breath catching slightly. A faint scent lingered in the air—the smell of bowstring oil.

Faint, unfamiliar, yet familiar.

After observing for a long time, Ryan Deer slowly exhaled, his eyes grave and his expression revealing a cold, shrewd judgment. He was now certain that the enemy had chosen to move entirely through the trees, leaving no footprints on the ground and damaging no trees whatsoever. If he weren't a forest ranger, familiar with the growth patterns of trees and able to piece together the truth from the smallest clues, no one else would have been able to discover these traces at all.

He continued forward following these subtle traces, nimbly weaving through the branches, tracking and deducing until the tracks faded into the distance. Then, he leaped and landed lightly on the slowed-down chariot, ending his reconnaissance mission.

Meanwhile, as he tracked the enemy's movements, Keramain wasn't idle. After confirming the enemy had left, he drew his whip and lashed it out. The whip, like a serpent, coiled around a seemingly insignificant plant. As the whip retracted, the plant was forcibly pulled back.

The training continued in perfect order, as if the enemy had never been there.

Back at the camp, Kayla Mayne led Ryan Diehl into the tent where the vice-captain was. Without saying a word, he handed the seemingly ordinary plant to the spellcaster.

"How is it?" The deputy captain asked, his hands behind his back, his voice steady and deep, but his eyes swept sharply over Ryan Deer.

“The enemy did come after we finished training yesterday.” Ryan Deer did not hesitate, his expression calm, and his tone truthful. “There were fewer than a hundred of them, and they moved entirely in the trees. However, their skills in movement and concealment varied greatly; some were extremely proficient, while others were clearly rusty.”

As they talked, the spellcaster bent down and carefully placed the plant on the table. He gently pinched the leaves with his fingers, his gaze focused, as if listening to some whisper that only he could hear.

This plant is not a naturally growing species in the woodland, but rather a deliberately placed foreign object, a creation of the Emerald Garden. It has an unremarkable appearance, ordinary leaves, and no unusual branches; if it were randomly placed in the woods, it would hardly attract anyone's attention.

The plant was placed in the forest for only one purpose—reconnaissance.

This plant possesses a unique memory property, capable of capturing and storing the movements of its surroundings. However, its memory is not permanent, lasting only for a short period of one day.

As time goes by, old records will be covered and erased by new ones, and can never be retrieved.

If the spellcaster is highly skilled, they can directly establish a mental connection with these plants, thereby creating a monitoring area with a very wide coverage.

Unfortunately, he didn't have that level of skill; he couldn't directly control such a vast network. He could only try to decipher the remaining information within it by using a plant that Keramane brought back.

“His judgment is correct.” After a moment of silence, the spellcaster raised his head and said with certainty.

The deputy captain nodded, showing no surprise whatsoever, but rather a sense of relief that had been hanging in the air.

There were no urgent orders or bugle calls to assemble in the camp. No troops were mobilized in full force. The footsteps and shouts of the soldiers were just like the usual routine of the military camp.

It was as if the enemy had never come, as if nothing had ever happened.

The sun rose as usual, and wisps of smoke continued to rise from the chimneys. The monotonous and routine military life continued, and training in the woods never ceased. But in the shadows, the deputy battalion commander had already reported the news, and the army's command structure was aware of the enemy's presence. However, Duruch's forces remained inactive.

A hasty attack might alert the enemy. Since the enemy is still probing, let's wait. Let Asur's side make the first move, let them reveal their true intentions, and then Duruci's side will counterattack.

And so, four days passed in the blink of an eye. Day and night alternated, and life in the military camp remained unchanged.

The silence was finally broken on the fifth day.

On this day, an arrow silently embedded itself in the wooden wall of Vassell's camp. The shaft stood straight, the fletching trembling as if still recounting the lingering echoes of its rapid flight. Even more striking was the letter bound to the shaft, tightly bound with thick hemp rope, the paper shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

On this day, Tyrandor was also present, in addition to Vatheril.

After reading the letter, Tyrandor chose to leave the camp alone to meet the sender. (End of Chapter)