Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

On the twenty-third day that Imrek sang the Dragon Song.

A week after that meeting, Darkus left the port of Eleste, left the Kingdom of Safre, and boarded a cargo ship returning to Lorthen.

Compared to its original state, Port Elrest has become... almost unrecognizable.

The expanded port appeared magnificent yet unfamiliar in the morning light. Flags fluttered in the sea breeze on the docks, and the berths had been doubled in size. The sturdy stone structures extended outwards into deeper waters, capable of accommodating dozens of Trucchi-class Albatross-class cargo ships simultaneously. Wooden piles stood tall, and iron chains crisscrossed the water. Cranes and loading and unloading equipment roared under the operation of workers. Accompanied by the sounds of wheels and commands, the port area was bustling with activity, resembling a newly emerging major port.

The warehouse area was also completely rezoned.

With Duruci taking over and the addition of Asur laborers, rows of neat warehouses sprang up in a very short time. Black steel and cold, hard stone replaced the old, loose wooden structures, solid and cold, exuding a chilling aura that kept people at a distance. The passageways between the warehouses were straight and wide, so neat as to be almost austere, with every process meticulously calculated.

The roads were widened, with layers of heavy slag and hard soil transforming the original paths into wide avenues wide enough for several horse-drawn carriages to travel side by side, allowing heavy machinery to pass smoothly. People and vehicles were strictly separated, and the process was orderly, as if the entire port was being propelled by invisible gears, operating at a predetermined rhythm.

The most striking feature was the watchtower standing on the edge of the harbor. With almost ruthless efficiency, Duruci had it erected in just a few days, its black exterior as cold and hard as iron in the sunlight. The new signal lights mounted atop the tower and the wide observation platform flashed day and night, and the changing of the guard never ceased.

Armored patrols and black knights were a common sight on the streets, their steps precise and their armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight. The reorganized Asur laborers worked quietly and mechanically, heads down, pushing carts, carrying, and unloading goods, as if the entire city had become a giant war machine, and they were merely cogs in it.

All of this has transformed the port of Elrest, making it no longer just an ordinary trading transit point, but a strategic node that has been fully integrated into the Truc system.

It was a port and a naval port; a warehouse and a fortress.

Busyness and tension, order and sternness, have replaced the leisure and tranquility of the past.

The Windswept Plain, connected by the port of Elisthenes, has also been completely transformed.

As far as the eye can see, towering iron towers rise across the vast fields, like black spines growing from the depths of the earth. They echo each other, like a cold, hard, and enormous net, gradually enveloping the entire plain, like a formidable skeleton supporting the sky. The tranquil pastoral scene of the past is shattered by these steel behemoths; as the wind blows, the towers emit a deep hum, as if heralding the arrival of a new order.

Meanwhile, the railway connecting the port with key inland areas was under construction at an accelerated pace. The black rails stretched out like an iron serpent coiled across the earth, cutting straight and mercilessly across the plains. The elves toiled day and night, the sounds of hammers, shouts, and the rumble of carts rising and falling, never ceasing, as the earth was constantly being excavated and compacted amidst the roar, making way for the impending torrent of steel.

Newly built military camps and warehouses pierced the plain like sharp blades. Banners fluttered in the wind, soldiers moved in and out in a constant stream, their footsteps resounding, and mountains of armor and weapons lay stacked high. In front of the warehouses, rows of wagons stood ready to depart, their cargo boxes, covered in black cloth, loaded with grain, arrows, and various military supplies.

The entire Windswept Plain has been transformed into a vast military rear area.

This place is no longer just a granary, no longer just farmland, but has been redefined by Trucchi's ruthless hand as part of a war machine.

At this point, the first stage is complete.

However, this is not the end.

Duruci will continue to govern the southern part of the Kingdom of Safre, bringing every inch of the plains, every newly built road, and every uprooted or replanted crop into their austere order.

Not a single bit is wasted, and not a moment is allowed to be idle.

They want to make this place an unshakeable base, even after the war ends.
-

(Continued from Chapter 805, Song of the Dragon)
On the twenty-third day after Imrek sang the Dragon Song, this method of recording the passage of time failed.

Because on this day, Imrek suddenly opened his eyes—he was back, he was back, he was back!
He returned to reality, back to that vast and deep cave.

The surrounding rock walls were distorted by light and heat, and steam and ash swirled and surged in the air like souls, trembling slightly with the tremors as if the whole earth were breathing.

His withered, dying body, which had been utterly devoured by the Dragon Song, was now restored to its former glory. His breathing was steady, his mind was clear, and his body was as if reborn. The suffering and depletion brought by the Awakening Song had been completely reversed by the supreme power of this final song.

It was as if they had died and been reborn, as if they had been reborn from the ashes.

Miracles that elves cannot accomplish are merely a matter of a gesture from that being.

Imrek rose to his feet, his movements slow yet resembling a king rearranging his crown amidst the dust. His eyes gleamed with an unusual light, neither fire nor energy, but rather an echo of communion with that being.

He looked around, and in the firelight, he saw that he was not alone.

Beside him were the dragon mages lying on the ground, still unconscious: Kellis, Lamelaan, Tynton, Dalamas... and Leandera.

Further away, amidst the misty steam, some enormous figure was slowly writhing.

The dragon is awakening.

Those ancient, vast, and unfathomable lives are returning from their slumber, their consciousness, once lost in an eternal dream, now gazing once more upon this familiar yet strange land.

One of the most enormous dragons stood slowly before Imrek.

His body seemed to be constructed from the bones of stars and covered by the dust of time, his scales shimmering with a star-like brilliance, and with each breath he reshaped the air and pressure of the cave.

He lowered his massive head, and his eyes, burning like amber, shone with the flames and wisdom of the primordial era.

He looked at Imrek, no longer ignoring him, no longer scrutinizing him, but looking at him with an equal gaze.

Even so, Imrek still felt as if he were pierced by those blazing dragon eyes. He felt an invisible pressure descending from the sky, heavy enough to crush a mortal into dust on the spot.

However, he did not kneel.

He stood tall, like the spine of the earth itself, letting that gaze penetrate deep into his soul, reaching the deepest part of his heart and memories.

In that gaze, he saw not oppression, nor scrutiny, but a question from the depths of endless time, a silent inquiry woven from countless destructions and rebirths.

"Why did you come?"

The voice didn't utter a sound, but instead roared and echoed directly within Imrek's consciousness. It was the will of the dragon, pure and irresistible, needing no words, yet striking the heart more directly than a thousand words.

Imrek's breathing quickened, but his gaze remained resolute. He slowly raised his right hand and placed it on his chest in response, a gesture of ancient respect that had been passed down for millennia in the royal courts and dragon's lair of Caledon, symbolizing reverence and covenant.

“I have come for Caledor, for Ausuan, for my people.”

His voice, though low, was like a flame suppressed in a furnace, trembling with each breath, ready to erupt at any moment and burn away all illusions.

The dragon's eyes were incredibly deep, as if trying to see through his every thought and lie. The firelight in the cave flickered with the dragon's breathing, as if the very pulse of heaven and earth resonated in sync with the dragon's breath, reflecting Imrek's resolute and solitary silhouette.

"We sleep, for the world is no longer worth living."

That will roared once more in Imrek's heart, like thunder rolling across mountains, shattering all pretense.

"Chaos, betrayal, fire and blood... By what right do you awaken us? By what right do you command us to once again step into the strife of the mortal world?" Imrek's throat tightened. He knew this was not a simple question and answer, but a test, the dragon's final question to him. If he could not answer, if he could not provide a reason sufficient to convince the dragon, then he and Caledor would completely lose the dragon's protection and their last hope.

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, his eyes burning like flames.

"Because this is not my will, but the call of fate!"

His voice echoed in the hollow cave, carrying an irresistible power.

"If the dragons are forever lost in the dream, Ulthuan will surely turn to ashes, the bloodline of the elves will vanish with the wind, and all glory and memories will be swallowed by the black tide!"

"I do not ask you to submit, nor do I ask you to bow your heads to me. I only wish that you open your eyes, witness once more, and choose once more! If even you refuse to protect this land, then we will all be buried in the abyss together!"

His voice echoed through the cave, layer upon layer, mingling with the scent of embers and the roar of steam, like an ancient aria that trembled the dragon's soul and shook the heart of the sleeping mountains.

The enormous dragon fell silent.

His wings slowly unfurled, like a storm cloud that blotted out the sky, stirring up a violent gust of air that dispersed the pervasive mist and sulfurous smoke. The shimmering light of his scales was like a night sky falling, and the cave was instantly enveloped in a sea of ​​stars, magnificent and solemn.

Then, he lowered his head.

That action was not submission, but an admission.

Acknowledge that the elf before you, though small, is worthy of looking at the dragon as an equal.

Acknowledge the destiny and flames on the shoulders of the elves; they deserve to be witnessed.

Imrek's chest heaved violently, his heart pounding like a war drum. He knew he had passed the trial.

In this silence, he heard the dragons' slumber gradually crumbling, and a new era quietly beginning.

The pact between the king and the dragon has been reignited.

With the heavy breathing of the dragons, the entire cave began to tremble, as if the heart of the earth had been reawakened. A scorching heat and ancient pressure filled the air, even the stone walls seemed to resonate. More slumbering dragons awoke, their growls and flapping wings intertwining like thunder rolling beneath the dome, responding to this long-awaited covenant.

Imrek stood alone amidst the roaring dragon tide, his figure illuminated by the firelight, like the king chosen by fire and dragons!

At this moment, he was not only the prince of Caledor, but also the only link between the dragons and the elves, a person who carried ancient glory and future destiny!
As the dragon gradually awoke, the dragon mages trembled, as if struck in the soul by an ancient bell. The sound, invisible yet clear, echoed in their blood, making it hard to breathe. First, they furrowed their brows in pain, then slowly relaxed, their eyelashes fluttering, as if abruptly dragged from a long nightmare back to reality. One by one, they struggled out of their nightmarish slumber, filled with bewilderment and shock.

Kelly was the first to open his eyes, his expression blank, then his eyes widened suddenly, his breathing rapid. He saw it—amidst the mist and firelight, the enormous dragon was slowly raising its head, looking down at them like an unapproachable god.

"Impossible...this...!" Lameran almost cried out in a low voice, his voice trembling as if his throat was being burned by flames.

"Really awake? We...we did it?" Tynton suddenly sat up, his hands trembling. His face was filled with awe and disbelief, his gaze as if he wanted to imprint the scene before him deep into his soul.

Daramas clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of ecstasy and terror coursing through him. His gaze darted back and forth between Imrek and the dragon, trying to ascertain whether this was merely an illusion, or a cruel dream.

Leandera slowly sat up, tears still glistening in her eyes, lingering from the song and her pain. The tears shimmered in the firelight, like burning fragments of starlight. She gazed at the colossal presence, her lips trembling slightly, but no sound came out; at this moment, all language was ineffective.

Inside the cave, only the dragon's deep, drawn-out breathing resonated in waves, shaking everyone's hearts. Each breath seemed to affect their very being, making them realize that it was no longer a legend, but a living reality.

Imrek turned around, his eyes deep, his voice steady as a mountain, carrying an unquestionable authority.

"What you see is not a dream. The age of dragons has not ended. Today, they are gazing upon us once more."

The dragon mages looked at each other, their eyes filled with tears, fanaticism, and bewilderment, but none dared to deny the truth of the moment. Their chests were filled with a tearing emotion, as if their hearts were burning in flames.

In this atmosphere of silence and awe, the colossal dragon opened its mouth and unleashed a roar like an ancient storm. The sound pierced through the cave like lightning tearing the sky, causing rocks to shatter and fall from the cave walls.

The sound was not merely a roar, but an ancient response, a solemn declaration.

He has acknowledged Imrek.

He has acknowledged the group of elves.

The roar evoked a deeper resonance, like whispers among the stars, reweaving the destinies of dragons and elves. Their resonance would once again change the entire world.

They were of various colors—gold, crimson, silver, and white, as well as bronze and champagne—like jewels forged by the sun and starlight, shimmering with dazzling light. Ten, then ten more, their numbers surging forth like a tide, gradually becoming countless. Like symbols of revelation, they traversed the Dragonspine Mountains, their wings soaring through the clouds, flying towards Tal Sammersan, carrying with them an irreversible destiny and magnificent glory.

The roar of the dragon intertwined with the sound of the wind, like the oldest symphony in the world, obscuring the sky above the Xia Ge Plain. The booming sound came from afar and exploded overhead, making every stone brick in the city seem to tremble.

That was an unprecedented sight.

The dragon's wings whipped up a gale that swept across the sky, and the banners fluttered in the howling wind. Every elf in the city looked up in unison, their eyes filled with awe and fervor. They were witnessing a miracle that only existed in legends.

Children ran and screamed, pointing to the sky, their innocent shouts echoing through the streets. Their voices contained no fear, only pure excitement and wonder.

The elderly men, their faces streaked with tears, trembled as they whispered names they had only heard in ancient songs, their voices hoarse yet filled with an almost devout fervor.

The soldiers laid down their weapons, knelt on one knee, and slammed their spears against the stone slabs, creating a deafening roar that mingled with the chorus of the dragons in the sky. They gazed up at the canopy of light and fire, their hearts pounding wildly in their chests.

A golden dragon, like the sun itself, swooped down from the heavens, illuminating the city's towers. Its radiance, like a torrent of sunlight, instantly transformed Tal Sammersan into a burning holy city. A crimson dragon, trailing flames, streaked through the air like a meteor, leaving a long, fiery trail that ignited the boundary between night and day. Silver and white figures reflected the sunlight with blinding brilliance, like stars descending, so dazzling that it was impossible to look directly at them. Bronze and copper dragons, heavy as mountains, brought a muffled roar with each flap of their wings, causing the earth to tremble, as if mountains were migrating across the sky.

The dragons circled around Tal Sammersang, their roars merging into a dragon chorus that resonated through the heavens. The sound was like a great bell, shaking the earth and making mountains tremble, waves surge, and the air seem to be ignited by flames.

Each sound was like a sharp blade piercing the soul, causing every spirit's heart to beat in unison, and even their breathing to become uncontrollable.

The scene transcended the mundane, as if heaven and earth were awakening simultaneously, forcibly etching the myth back into people's eyes.

That was lost glory, the return of an ancient era.

The elves, witnessing this scene, felt their blood boil and their souls tremble.

The people of Caledor cheered, some calling out the name of Imrek, others the holy name of the dragon, while still others wept uncontrollably, kneeling on the ground, responding to this incredible scene with tears and songs. In the streets, the crowd surged like a tide, songs, shouts, and sobs mingling, as if the entire kingdom had awakened at that moment.

The dragon princes were overjoyed, for they knew that their time had come!

This marks the beginning of a new era. (End of Chapter)