Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Going back in time, we return to an hour before Daxus blew the attack horn.

Naga Rosler, Naga Londe.

After taking a short rest in the Hell's Disaster Mansion, Hirsis climbed out of bed, sorted out his clothes, and quietly left through the deep underground passage. His steps were steady, but his eyes showed a trace of calmness and vigilance. Finally, he passed through the passage and came to his spire. When he put on his equipment and came to the Black Tower of Malekith, and stepped into the solemn and oppressive courtyard, he was surrounded by arrogant Duruchi dignitaries.

In the courtyard, every inch of the ground was paved with black marble slabs that were polished like a mirror, reflecting the noble and cold figures of the dignitaries. Above these Duruchi dignitaries was the sharp tower of the Black Tower that soared into the sky. Its sharp silhouette seemed to cut several cold traces in the air.

All around, black guards in heavy armor stood like statues, their eyes cold and scrutinizing, emitting an oppressive feeling that was hard to ignore. Their presence cast all eyes and shadows over the courtyard, and every move of the dignitaries seemed to be under their watchful eyes.

Hirsis stood in the center of the courtyard, recalling the scene when he first met Dacus. Time went back, and his figure was reflected on the black stone slab, like a silent sculpture.

He is tall and strong, wearing Kith steel plate armor with golden etchings and powerful protective runes. The thickness and complexity of the armor show his status and power. The lower body is covered with a shining mail skirt, which is agile and majestic. A pair of exquisite serrated swords hang from his waist, with egg-sized rubies inlaid on the hilts and dazzling red gold on the scabbards. The cloak is made of black dragon skin, draped over his broad shoulders, swaying gently in the breeze.

The golden Haderika on his neck shone with low-key splendor, revealing his past battles and the glory of his family. His face was thin and cold, with a few strands of gray in his black hair, neatly combed back and tied with a golden belt. There were two conspicuous sword wounds on his sharp nose, and the star-shaped scar on one side of his neck clearly told of the tragic battle where he was pierced by a spear. His eyes were deep and sharp, revealing a steely will that made people dare not look him in the eye easily.

When Anasara and Newkol appeared, he smiled and took out the pipe Newkol gave him from his arms. His movements were smooth and natural. After lighting the pipe with a lighter, he did not rush to take a deep breath, but raised the pipe and slightly gestured to Newkol. Then, he took a deep breath of smoke, and then he was interrupted by a violent cough, coughing hoarsely, and the sound was particularly abrupt in the courtyard.

The scene was replicated again, but not quite so perfectly.

Anasara did not glare at her son as she did at the beginning when Newker was amused by Hirsis's exaggerated performance and put his pipe to his mouth. Instead, she raised her head slightly, looked past the shadow cast by the black tower, looked at the sky, and looked towards the east of Nagarond.

The dignitaries waiting to enter glanced slightly in the cold wind, trying to catch the deep meaning in Annasara's eyes, but they got nothing.

Hirsis stopped performing and looked at Anasara and Newker. He seemed to understand something, but he didn't say it. He just thought about it in his heart, waiting for the moment to come.

There is no place in this world more evil and malicious than the gathering of the Dark Council.

In every shadowy corner of Naggaroth, terror lords responded to the call of the Witch King Malekith. Whether they were butchers who lived only for killing, tyrants who trampled on countless lives, or villains who indulged in depravity and madness that mortals could hardly imagine, they all dared not disobey this order. The majesty of the Witch King was enough to dispel any thought of daring to refuse.

The Black Tower of Malekith towered high into the sky, overlooking the streets and spires of Naggarond. The Council Hall was vast and boundless, with the dome hidden in impenetrable darkness, and even the most perceptive pirates could hardly see the end of it. Huge buttresses rose from the walls, and every inch was carved with intricate and strange patterns, standing like silent ghosts. The stone gods on the buttresses looked down coldly at everything in the hall. The eyes of each god were inlaid with huge gems, which looked even more gloomy under the effect of magic, exuding a fiery and evil breath.

The walls between the buttresses are almost entirely covered in bloody tapestries woven from bloodied scalps, each telling of the fate of those who dared to challenge the Witch-King's authority, and the ultimate punishment for such rebellion.

In the center of the hall stood a huge round table carved from a single piece of obsidian. Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, but covered with terrifying symbols and emblems.

These emblems represent the noble families that can sit here. However, next to some emblems, you can see dim outlines outlined with ruby ​​​​shards, symbolizing that these families have been completely eliminated from the Dark Council by Malekith and completely wiped out from the world of the living. Next to these abolished emblems, new emblems are engraved, and new noble families inherit these seats.

As Malekith often said: The past is returning, life is a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth.

The strange seats around the round table are made of blackened bones and peeling skin, with grotesque and disturbing shapes. Hirsis, who was in charge of the restoration, did not put too much effort into the transformation of these seats. Although most of the seats have been replaced with relatively normal chairs, some seats are still retained in their original appearance out of respect for the dead. Those seats that have not been replaced are occupied by the Druki dignitaries who are "eternal" in a special way.

Some of these nobles who sleep here are so fresh that they smell rotten, while others have dried up into empty shells covered with dust and cobwebs as time goes by. Although they angered the Witch King and were killed at some point in the past, their special status allows them to stay in this grand event forever, of course, they can only participate in a broken form.

These seats belong to them exclusively and never need to be replaced, because they are the core part of this dark council, both in life and after death.

Morathi sat in her seat, her bottomless eyes fixed on her son, her gaze like a sharp blade, as if to pierce Malekith's soul, her posture was noble and elegant, just like the darkness she ruled had not gone away. Behind her, the two sorceress maids stood silently, like silent statues.

Unlike the maids that Daxus saw when he first joined the Dark Council, these two were strangers. At that time, one of the maids became his lover for some reason, while the other disappeared without a trace. As for the fate of the other, whether she was hiding in a corner or lost in the endless river of history, perhaps only Morathi knew.

Malekith sat quietly on the throne, playing with the Sun Sword in his hand. The blade exuded a faint golden glow, forming a sharp contrast with the cold black of the throne. He lowered his head and stared at the edge of the sword. His iron fingers slowly slid across the smooth blade, feeling the sharpness and heat of the blade. Even though Morathi's eyes were burning, he did not look up, let alone speak. At this moment, he was like an ancient stone statue, silent and cold, refusing all communication.

He knew in his heart that his mother was looking at him, waiting silently, but he had no interest in the last mother-son conversation. He had no intention of responding. His patience with his mother had reached its limit. He didn't know what to say to Morathi, and he didn't want to say it. He just wanted to sit quietly and focus on the Yangyan Sword in his hand, as if this was his only world at the moment, as if he could feel his father's presence in this way.

Morathi's lips curled up slightly in a sneer, which was a reflection of a mother's complex emotions towards her son, love and hate, expectation and disappointment, pride and despair intertwined. Her back was like a cold black tower, and the maids standing behind her were like wreaths that never faded, wrapping her dignity and power tightly.

There were no whispers or echoes in the council chamber, only an eerie silence.

As time slowly passed, the breath of time seemed to freeze in the conference hall. When Malekith sheathed the golden-glowing Yangyan Sword, the atmosphere in the entire hall suddenly changed, like the silence before a storm.

The door slowly opened with a heavy hum, and the sound of the door hinges echoed in the vast throne room, like a prelude to a command. A cold wind blew into the hall with the call of the Dark Council, bringing with it a cold breath, as well as the noise and whispers outside the door.

Malekith's gaze did not shift as the door opened. He turned his head slightly and cast his sight to his right, to the silent figure. The noble robe with purple outside and crimson inside seemed to have remained unchanged for thousands of years. No matter how time passed, the robe always maintained perfect folds and noble luster. Daquus, wearing a robe, stood in the shadow beside the throne, his hands folded, his eyes as sharp as a hawk, quietly observing the Duruchi dignitaries who filed in.

However, he soon discovered something strange. Although he was wearing a familiar robe and had a familiar posture, there was a secret sense of emptiness in the air. He frowned slightly and stared at the shadow carefully. The next moment, he confirmed that Dacus was not there. There was no magic, no illusion. Dacus only existed in his mind. At this moment, Dacus was not there at all.

The door continued to open, and the dark red curtains swayed gently in the wind, bringing a slight rustling sound. As the heavy door was fully opened, the atmosphere in the entire hall instantly became more oppressive and solemn. The dignitaries of Duruchi walked into the hall one after another, with either low or excited footsteps, entering this area shrouded in darkness.

Every time there was a meeting, the order was always so strict and unshakable. The first to arrive were always the powerful people who controlled a city or a place, and the first to arrive were always Annasara and Newker.

The mother and son walked without hesitation. Annasara wore a gorgeous dark purple robe with an exquisite cape on her shoulders. Her face was as cold and ruthless as a sculpture, and her eyes flashed with an authority that could not be ignored. However, Newkle, wearing a black robe with gold thread, was as unpleasant as ever, maintaining a kind of elegance that was lacking in the Druki society.

Behind the mother and son was Yegelmei, the high-level animal trainer of the Hell Disaster Family, who walked in with steady and powerful steps. Behind him followed several family heads and fear lords, who were tall and gorgeously dressed, but their aura seemed a little dim compared to Anasara and Newkel.

There was an undisguised silence in the air. Although there were many nobles, they seemed sparse. Dacus, the Hand of the Witch King, who was supposed to attend the meeting, was nowhere to be seen. The admirals were still floating on the Sea of ​​Malice and failed to arrive on time. All this seemed to indicate some unknown change.

The nobles from Karonde Kar followed closely behind, led by the female Night Lord Kira, and began to enter. Their attire was extremely exaggerated, revealing a sense of reckless exaggeration, wearing Kaitan made of manticore or hydra scales, with dragon whips tied around their waists, symbolizing their status and wealth, and iconic thorn pendants around their necks, which symbolized their outstanding achievements as slave traders.

The scars and wounds on their faces and limbs only highlighted their arrogance and pride. There was an obvious pride in everyone's eyes, as if every breath they took was proof of how invincible they were.

However, unlike before, this time, they did not stare at the Krakarond delegation with hostility and anger as usual. Although there was still a history of hatred between them, at this moment, there was less of that fiery murderous intent and bloody provocation in their eyes.

Perhaps it was because they realized the majesty of the Witch King, perhaps it was because Dacreus suddenly appeared, perhaps it was because they needed a favor from Clarkarond, or perhaps it was because they felt the coming of the storm, the hatred and hostility that once spread rampantly were now replaced by a more complex emotion.

The next dignitaries to enter were the Dread Lords from Naggarond. The first to come in was Agileth, the second was Hirsis, followed by Tigathus the Bloodthirster, Korem the Shiverblade and other Dread Lords who entered one after another.

Next came the Hag Graves delegation led by Night Warden Draka and Valahal Chagorosh, which was equally dismal in number. Valahal's Lehan the Fallen Blade had long since become a thing of the past, a legend in the Duruchi society, and a laughing stock among the rich and powerful.

As time goes by, a new joke emerges in Naggaroth: "If you want to have a son, you should give birth to Malus." This is a beautiful blessing, but also a vicious curse.

When cypress was used as a name, it had a very good meaning, toughness, beauty, and longevity. But... ever since that incident, using cypress as a name seemed to have become a taboo.

The same is true for the Black Blade.

After two rounds of cleansing, only two of the eight famous Hag Graves families remained, and the main one was sparsely populated and could not be fully occupied. Those small families that were still making a fortune were not qualified to enter the venue at present.

Then, the leaders of the Shadow Clan, Gorond and Har Gansi, and the dread lords stationed in various strongholds in the north entered one after another.

Captain Corran Blackhand of the Black Guard entered next and took his seat at the entrance, his scarlet halberd standing beside him as usual, but unlike usual, his eyes behind the slit in his helmet did not move from one attendee to the next.

This time, the Dark Council was not convened at the right time, but it was also the right time. At this time, the greatest bride of Cain was in a semi-aging stage, just like the battery level of a mobile phone, at this time, she maintained 60% of the battery.

Hellebron entered the parliament hall with an elegant pace. Her movements were still smooth and steady, and every step was full of noble dignity. Although the years had left their marks on her, she still maintained an aura that was breathtaking.

Her white hair, which almost dragged to the floor, shone with a soft silver light under the dim light. Although her face was no longer as young as it was at the beginning, her former beauty could still be seen. Her high cheekbones and deep eye sockets gave her a unique coldness and determination.

Although her skin was slightly pale, it was still smooth and delicate, exuding a texture that seemed to be otherworldly. The corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a faint smile, which was cold but had an irresistible charm.

She was wearing a finely cut dark red robe, with the opening on her chest interlaced with fine black and gold chains, and the embroidered emblem of Cain could be vaguely seen on the dark red fabric. The edge of the robe was decorated with black feathers, which swayed slightly with her steps, as if surging with some kind of restless power. Her nails were dyed crimson, and her slender fingers were covered with various rings, each of which was inlaid with shining gems, as if condensing the essence of countless souls.

There was a fervent and dangerous light in her eyes. When she walked into the council hall, the air seemed to freeze for a moment. Some of the dignitaries who looked at her quickly lowered their heads to show their awe, while others raised their eyebrows slightly to hide their inner trembling and uneasiness. Her smile widened a little, and she gently raised her hand, as if silently telling everyone: She is still the awe-inspiring and irresistible bride of Kane.

The Dark Council officially began.

As the heavy door slowly closed, the click sound that echoed all around carried a hint of heaviness and oppression, and the hearts of some of the dignitaries present seemed to tremble slightly with the sound of the door.

Malekith said nothing, still sitting on the throne, with no intention of getting up. His orange eyes flickered in the dark council hall, and his eyes swept across every participant sharply, like an invisible blade, piercing through the hearts of the participants and understanding every tiny detail of the participants.

He could almost smell the uneasiness and fear emanating from the participants, the aura of anxiety filling the entire venue. He could feel the wandering gazes of some of the participants, their thoughts difficult to conceal.

Some people crossed their arms over their chests, trying to remain calm, but the hesitation and uncertainty in their eyes could still be concealed; some people even subconsciously looked around, as if looking for a way to escape; while some people pretended to be confident and proud with a look of contempt.

At this moment, he felt a deep sense of frustration. His mother had been manipulating him behind the scenes, and she no longer concealed her intentions. His mother's cold eyes and cold smile seemed to declare that she had seen through it all and regarded him as a chess piece on the chessboard.

What made Malekith even more angry was that many of the Dread Lords he was once so proud of had begun to waver. Betrayal and conspiracy spread like a plague, taking root in the hearts of some people. Some Dread Lords were no longer loyal to him, and some even made deals and agreements behind his back without his knowledge.

In the words of Dacus: everyone plays their own game.

However, despite his frustration, he still holds on to a tenacious hope. He knows that despite the complicated situation and the many undercurrents behind it, there are still some loyal dread lords who stand firmly on his side. These allies who have fought side by side and experienced life and death still regard him as the Witch King and place their faith in him. What he can see in the eyes of these supporters is not only their dependence on power, but also their support and expectations for his future plans.

Due to the silence of the Witch King, the atmosphere in the meeting hall became suffocating, and the participants could almost hear every tiny vibration in the air. The tense atmosphere made the hearts of some participants beat violently, as if a storm was about to break out in the next moment.

"Before the meeting, can you explain why there are so many Chaos followers in Gorond?"

Just when the participants thought that Malekith was still going to remain silent, he suddenly stood up, holding the scabbard of the Sun Blade tightly in his hand, and the hilt made a faint metallic friction sound in his hand. He did not take a step forward, but with unfathomable momentum, he asked Morathi a question as cold as ice.

His voice was as piercing as ice and snow, piercing the eardrums of every participant, carrying an irrefutable pressure. Every word he uttered seemed to explode in the air, bringing with it a chill wind that almost made everyone in the hall feel depressed.

Morathi's expression changed dramatically at this moment. Her confident and calm face was instantly replaced by a look of astonishment and disbelief. Her eyes widened with an undisguised look of astonishment and uneasiness. Her body trembled slightly. She had never expected her son to ask such a question at this time.

"You! You broke the law! You! You brought shame upon my father!"

However, Malekith did not give his mother time to react. With his angry roar, he suddenly pulled out the Sun Blade, and the blade made a sharp humming sound, drawing a bright light in the air. The moment the blade pointed at Morathi, his voice rang out again, cold as ice, full of murderous intent and unquestionable threats.

Each word condensed in the air like frost, carrying an irresistible deterrent force.

The atmosphere in the parliament hall suddenly became extremely depressing. Most of the people present were shocked and overwhelmed by this sudden anger. They couldn't help but feel fear, knowing that this conversation would change everything.

Morathi's hands trembled slightly, her face turned pale, and her eyes gradually changed from shock to a complex mixture of emotions. She knew that every word Malekith said represented the most severe accusation against her. She always thought that she could control everything behind the scenes. But now, her son stood in front of her and became the one who challenged her. She knew the meaning behind it. She was fooled by Malekith.

"you……"

She forced herself to calm down, took a deep breath, and tried her best to suppress the fluctuations in her heart. However, her voice still trembled a little, and her voice was not as calm as before. All this was far beyond her expectations. She had never thought that something like this would happen.

"In Naggaroth, the law cannot be violated! Where do you put my father? You are trampling on my father's glory! I don't want to hear any more sophistry!"

However, Malekith's gaze remained unchanged, the tip of the Sunblade still pointed at Morathi, and his voice rang out again, as cold as ice.

At this moment, he is no longer the young prince who once depended on his mother. His eyes are burning with the anger and determination of the Witch King. This tearing of family affection will be the beginning of his ultimate rise!
"Ah! Ah! Ah!!!"

Hellebron suddenly let out a sharp shout, and she, who was originally sitting at the round table, suddenly jumped up from her seat like a falcon in a storm, and rushed straight towards Morathi. At this moment, her eyes burned with uncontrollable willfulness and murderous intent, and her body seemed to be possessed by an ancient and violent light, like the bloody hand god, and rushed towards Morathi with the breath of Cain.

Her movements were swift and fierce, each step was as fast as lightning, and the round table seemed to tremble under her footsteps. First step, second step, third step, her figure shuttled through the air like a ghost, opening her hands, revealing sharp nails, like a hunting beast, wanting to tear everything apart. With her extremely fast speed, her figure almost disappeared from everyone's sight in an instant, making it difficult to catch, leaving only the oppressive feeling in the air.

Morathi was about to retaliate, but her words were choked up in an instant. Her heart suddenly sank, and the shadow of death had already enveloped her. Hellebron's rage was like an unstoppable torrent, swallowing her up in an instant. She knew that with new and old hatreds piled up together, Hellebron, who wished her dead, would kill her without hesitation.

A strong fear surged in her heart, and the only thought that flashed through her mind was to escape! She almost didn't think about it, and almost instinctively activated the emergency spell. Her spell reacted as quickly as lightning, and the moment Hellebron almost touched her, the brilliance of magic suddenly burst out, and a strong flash of light instantly exploded in the air.

Hellebron was caught off guard and was stunned, but only for a moment. She knew that Morathi was going to escape, and she also knew that this was her last chance. She had to seize this precious opportunity. She and Morathi had a five-thousand-year-old account to settle. The moment she touched Morathi, a sudden energy shock swept through the entire conference hall, and the distortion of space swallowed her figure and she disappeared into the air.

Disappearing along with her was Morathi's sharp cry and distorted figure, and all that remained in the air was the sudden silence.

The scene fell into a deathly silence. The two maids present did not react at all. They stood there in shock, as if the whole world had suddenly become unreal. Their eyes were flustered and confused, and they looked around. By the time they realized what had happened, Hellebron and Morathi had completely disappeared.

The atmosphere in the conference hall suddenly became extremely tense. Everyone felt the indescribable oppression, as if their hearts were hit by a heavy hammer and torn apart silently. No one dared to speak or move. Everyone was shrouded in an invisible fear at this moment.

Malekith did not give anyone a chance to breathe. Without any warning, he slammed the Yangyan Sword back into its scabbard, and then drew another sword from his waist, the Destroyer that exuded the breath of death.

The black sheen of the sword blade flickered in the dim light. His movements were crisp and clear, with almost no hesitation. At that moment, he swung the sword like a flood that broke through a dam, sweeping out in an instant. The shadow broke away from the sword blade and turned into a substantial black mist, rushing towards the two maids who were still confused as fast as lightning.

The maid's eyes were filled with confusion and fear, and she had no time to react.

"Oh!"

Blood splattered, and with a swipe of the sword, the bodies of the two maids were instantly cut in half and fell to the ground. The sight of blood gushing out was particularly glaring in this heavy atmosphere. They died without a single struggle, and even without a cry of pain. They died so quickly and cleanly, as if even their souls were harvested in an instant.

This fatal blow was perfect and decisive, and Malekith did not waver at all, as if he had been prepared for it. He did not stop, nor did he look down at the maid who had fallen to the ground. His eyes were fixed on Tigasus, who was sitting at the round table, still with his eyes wide open and a look of horror.

Tigasus was obviously completely shocked by this scene. His face turned pale and his eyes were full of disbelief. What happened one after another did not allow him to calm down and think.

Malekith's eyes were ablaze with fire, almost illuminating the entire venue. The hilt of the Destroyer in his hand exuded a terrifying aura. He did not hesitate at all, and his eyes were filled with firm determination and unshakable majesty. He stared at Tigasus, as if he wanted to tear Tigasus apart completely, and crushed any arrogance and resistance in Tigasus inch by inch with his eyes.

Tigasus coughed in his throat, as if he wanted to say something, but he was tightly bound by the sudden fear and absolute oppression, and couldn't utter a word. At this moment, his eyes were full of fear and panic. He knew that he was ridiculous. His every move was under the control of Malekith, and Malekith's eyes at this moment were like an invisible blade that had cut open his heart.

"Do you need me to read it out and call out the names one by one, or do you want to step forward on your own initiative now?"

Malekith's voice was low and cold. He flipped his hand lightly and grabbed the list written by Hirsis in his hand like a magic trick. In this suffocatingly quiet atmosphere, his eyes swept over the participants on the list without a trace of pity in his eyes. The list in his hand was gently flipped at his fingertips, and the tension in the air became thicker. Everyone's heartbeat seemed to accelerate with the appearance of the list.

Koulan, who had been sitting quietly, finally moved. His movements seemed to indicate some kind of extreme explosion. He was tall and held a scarlet halberd in his hand. The sharp edge of the halberd shone with blood-red brilliance under the light, giving people a sense of oppression.

The posture he stood in was as steady as a rock, his whole body was tense and full of fighting tension. This was the posture of a true warrior, a terrifying existence who had been on the battlefield for a long time!
In the dark corners of the venue, the figures of the Black Guards surged like a tide, gathering silently and quickly, like countless ghosts in the darkness, suddenly emitting an oppressive atmosphere.

These Black Guards were all wearing pitch-black armor, and it seemed that even the air became heavy with their footsteps. Each Black Guard was like a cursed dead soldier, with no emotion in their eyes, only absolute loyalty to orders. Their steps were almost silent, but every step brought the footsteps of death.

The sounds of killing and wailing intertwined, echoing between the walls of the conference hall, as if an endless nightmare was crawling out from the depths of Minglai.

The air was filled with the smell of blood, and the sounds of flesh cracking and bones breaking alternated. Those Duruchi nobles, dread lords, and enemies who dared to stand before Malekith fell one after another, screaming and groaning.

After a moment, the door of the conference hall was slowly opened, and the light shining in from the gap between the doors was particularly dazzling.

Outside the door, there was a cool breeze, bringing a bit of coolness and fresh air, but this did not relieve the heavy atmosphere in the hall at all. The scene outside the door was in sharp contrast to the bloody scene in the hall, as if two worlds intersected and collided.

Malekith waved his hand gently, his movement was elegant but full of majesty, as if carrying an order that could not be disobeyed. All the noise suddenly stopped, and all the black guards stopped what they were doing, as if waiting for his instructions.

"Clean it up. You may not know that our dear Dacus doesn't like to see this. Also... don't let the upcoming guests laugh at you." (End of this chapter)