Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Tularis the Fear-Bearer brandished his cleaver, and the blade cut through the air, accompanied by a chilling scream, and easily tore the chest of a tattooed barbarian. Blood spurted out, splattering on the ground like a sacrifice, dyeing the soil underfoot red. After the blow was completed, he recited an ancient prayer in a low voice, his voice low but full of cold piety.

Not for himself, nor for his fallen foes, but as an offering to Kaine, the God of Murder. Countless killings are not for glory, but to satisfy the gods so that his life in the name of killing will never run out. Kane's whisper echoed in his mind, the sound thundering to his soul like recognition.

After the prayer, he turned around and swung the knife. Without any extra movement, the execution knife accurately pierced the throat of another human warrior wearing thick black iron armor. The blade penetrated from the neck, and the gushing blood drew an arc in the air.

The barbarian fell weakly, and behind his body, two beastmen with deformed sheep heads took his place. The two monsters were covered in dirty fur, wielding rough and cruel double-edged axes, and roared at the fear-sower.

One of the beastmen jumped up suddenly, raised the ax in his hand high, and struck at Tularis with a whistling sound that ripped through the air.

Faced with this rude and brutal attack, Turalis' movements were calm and precise. He easily swung the executioner's knife and cut off the beastman's ax handle with one blow, then cut off both of the beastman's wrists in the subsequent stabbing motion.

The monster that lost its hands let out a painful cry, and its body continued to retreat due to the severe pain. Blood spurted out from the fracture like a fountain, spreading all over the ground.

Another beastman launched a sneak attack from the side. Its movements were much more agile than Turaris expected. Under its bulky appearance, there was actually a speed that could not be ignored. It wielded a rusty double-edged ax, pointed directly at Tularis's neck.

"Interesting, for a beast, not bad!" Turaris whispered, with a hint of mockery in his tone.

He quickly lowered his head to avoid the blow, and at the same time turned around and slammed his elbow into the monster's throat, crushing the monster's windpipe with an extremely precise blow. The beastman let out a twisted grunt, dropped to his knees with his hands clutching his throat, and then collapsed like a pile of rags.

He stared at the monster coldly. He did not end the beastman's pain immediately, but slowly inserted the tip of the execution knife into the blood-soaked soil. Then, he pulled out the blood-stained dagger from his waist.

When the beastman struggled to raise its head due to suffocation, Tularis slowly approached and slowly carved Khaine's runes on its chest with a dagger. Every stroke is full of a cold sense of ritual, and every scratch is extremely precise, like some kind of solemn sacrificial ceremony.

Blood gurgled from the wound, dyeing Kane's runes crimson. There was fear and despair in the twisted face of the beastman, and his cloudy eyes stared at Turalis.

"You want to know why I did this, beast?"

Turaris bent down and looked at the monster, his tone cold and solemn.

His voice was low, with a power that penetrated directly into the soul. He knew that the beast could not understand his words at all, but he still maintained the arrogance and etiquette of the elf. Everything must conform to the sense of ritual. This was one of the principles for his sacrifice for Kane.

"If you were an elf, I would use this beheading knife to complete this ritual. But you are not an elf, so you are not worthy!" His tone was cold, with undisguised contempt in his voice. He stroked the blade lightly with his hand, as if the execution knife was some kind of sacred object, and then continued, "This knife is a weapon blessed by Kane himself. It is a symbol given by the God of Murder when the order was first established. Only the true Only worthy people are qualified to die under its edge, and you... are just a filthy beast."

Turaris completed the final touch, carving the runes to perfection. He straightened up and stared at the blood that gradually seeped out from the beastman's chest. The bright red liquid slowly gathered to form Kane's sacred mark. That symbol exudes a strange and oppressive power, like an invisible altar, completely locking the fate of the beastman.

"You don't deserve it, you filthy thing. But it makes me happy to deprive your humble soul of its belongings and refuse to let it return to the arms of those fallen gods." He raised his hand and pressed the bloody dagger into the beastman's filthy body. He slowly wiped the fur clean, and then put the dagger back into the sheath on his waist. He bent down and approached the dying monster, his voice was low and solemn, with unquestionable majesty.

He paused, staring coldly at the beastman's dying struggle, and continued.

"Through this mark, your soul has been marked by Khaine. From this moment on, you no longer belong to those corrupt and evil gods of Chaos. When you die, you will belong to Him, Khaine, the God of Murder. . Do you understand? This is an honor you will never understand, and it is also the gift you least deserve!”

The dying beastman frantically clawed at Tularis' breastplate, trying to struggle out some resistance at the last moment of his life.

However, Tularis only watched these powerless actions coldly and did not stop them at all. To him, this death struggle was nothing more than a futile show. He stared into the beastman's eyes until the light in the monster's eyes completely went out and the life completely disappeared.

"Kane, I offer you this insignificant sacrifice." He prayed in a low voice, with piety and coldness in his voice. "This is one of the many sacrifices tonight. May the blood at this moment become a symbol of our contract, Give me your power, and let every murder I commit tonight be for you and add to your glory.”

His faith in Kane is unquestionable, and he enjoys rituals, both in life and in battle, which he sees as an emotional display that makes him feel proud rather than a sign of weakness.

After finishing the prayer, he slowly stood up and pulled the execution knife from the ground. The blood on the blade gave off a scary light under the firelight. He looked around as if looking for the next sacrifice. His gaze was as sharp as a knife, and his murderous intent spread like a tide. Wherever he passed, there was a river of blood.

At this time, the streets were filled with fire and blood. Human barbarians and beastmen raged among the ruins, destroying and killing crazily. There were screams, roars, and the crisp sound of metal hitting everywhere. Scattered followers of Khaine engaged the enemy in twos and threes, shadows of fire reflecting on their blood-stained armor.

What was originally a large-scale battle has already evolved into countless small-scale tragic battles.

Those crazy marauders and beastmen hide among the ruins and blazing flames, waiting for opportunities like a pack of wolves to launch guerrilla warfare. The witch spirits of Kane's sect shine in these small-scale battles. Each of their strikes is full of precision and fatality. Their murderous nature makes them able to survive in this environment.

In contrast, the executioners of Tularis, while equally adept at killing, find it difficult to adapt to this style of fighting. For these executioners who were accustomed to fighting in formation, this fragmented fighting style was a challenge. They were trained by Tularis into sophisticated fighting machines. They relied on deadly coordination in the array to achieve victory. However, this collective fighting method made it difficult for them to quickly adapt to guerrilla warfare.

Turalis himself, however, is an exception.

He couldn't fight alongside his comrades in line like Coran Blackhand. He always walked alone, never truly trusting any of his companions, not even his executioners. His high-level status and Kane's favor destined him to be a lonely killer. His figure walked between the flames and corpses, and every step was as silent and deadly as Kane's arrival.

Killing is his belief and the meaning of his existence. His execution knife is not only a weapon, but also the embodiment of Kane's will. Everyone who stands in front of him, regardless of strength or race, will only turn into a pool of blood and become a sacrifice to Kane.

For thousands of years, he has faced enemies countless times, heard Kane's whispers countless times, and he can't even truly trust her, the most important woman in his life.

Heliben.

He has been loyal to Heliben for so long that time has blurred. From the first midnight of death he experienced, from the first time Kane whispered in his ear, from the moment he took the first life with his executioner's knife, Heliben became everything to him. .

Heliben was his master, his lover, his queen.

"Is she watching?"

This thought flashed through Turaris's mind. Even in the burning ruins and bloody streets, he could still feel those eyes, as if Heliben was always watching him, observing his every move. Every battle, every sacrifice, enjoying the glory he brought to Kane and the cult.

Although he has never found any trace of Heliben, this does not prevent him from imagining: Is she standing on a tall tower at this moment, overlooking his battlefield? Was she feeling satisfied with his killing tonight? Or was she immersed in her own ritual and had no time to pay attention to him?

There were no answers to these questions, and he didn't need answers.

After a moment, he turned the corner and entered a wide but rubble-strewn avenue. Kane's whisper seemed to guide him, leading him through the streets where ruins and corpses were piled up. Doors were violently opened, and corpses were scattered in the house. Some were Druchi who had not had time to escape from Grond, and more were barbarians from the north.

Turaris's eyes swept over these corpses without mercy.

"Too weak, too dead to be worth mentioning."

As he walked out of the narrow alley, the scene before him suddenly opened up. It was a road stained red by the war. The corpses were piled up into several huge pyres. The flames burned brightly, reflecting the surrounding streets in red.

Beside the fire was a circle of humans wearing heavy armor, holding weapons and surrounding a huge figure. The figure was a head taller than any other barbarian, like a moving iron tower. His red-gold armor shone dazzlingly in the firelight, exuding an oppressive aura.

Turaris's eyes were firmly attracted by the tall Chaos Champion, who was a truly strong man.

The champion holds in his hands a helmet with a skull as its face and an angular crest that resembles the runes of the gods. His face was covered with cuts and bruises, and the runes were drawn with dried blood, giving off an aura of evil and madness.

Apparently, this was a powerful champion of Chaos, a favored sacrifice to the God of Murder.

"Kane led me here so that I could complete a grand sacrifice." Turalis sneered under the cover of the skull helmet and thought silently in his heart.

"In the name of Kane, face me, the devil's lackey!" He raised his execution knife and shouted in a deep voice.

Upon hearing the challenge, the Chaos Champion turned around with a ferocious smile on his face. There was still blood on the corner of his grinning mouth, and his scarred face made people feel a chilling intimidation.

He raised his hand and waved his soldiers to step back and make room for him. He threw the helmet in his hand to the ground and grabbed a huge double-edged battle ax next to him. The battle ax shone strangely in the firelight, and the runes on the blade seemed to come alive, twisting on the metal surface, as if cheering for the upcoming battle.

He strode towards Turalis, roaring like a roar from his throat, shouting some rude words in the language of barbarians, his voice full of fighting intent.

"I don't understand you, scumbag, but I'll take it as your promise."

Turaris mocked in a cold tone, with disdain and determination in his tone. He held the execution knife tightly with both hands, and the blade was slightly raised, exuding a sharp killing intent. When the battle ax struck with a heavy roar, he calmly ducked sideways, and the execution knife in his hand easily drew an elegant arc.

The blade cut into the bloody armor of the Chaos Champion without hesitation, but unexpectedly, the armor did not break like ordinary metal, but seemed to have life, tightly sucking his blade, as if Trying to swallow the execution knife. He tried to pull out the execution knife with force, but found that the knife was firmly stuck and motionless.

The Chaos Champion let out an ear-splitting laugh and backed away violently. The powerful force knocked Turalis violently onto the muddy ground.

Tularis rolled around on the ground, avoiding another fatal blow from the battle axe. Then, he kicked out fiercely, hitting the champion's thick armor-covered shin. However, the next second, a sharp pain came from his leg, as if what he kicked was not armor, but an unshakable rock.

"Mother of the Night!"

He cursed under his breath and struggled to stand up despite the pain. He lowered his head to dodge a sweeping attack from the Chaos Champion and gritted his teeth. He tried his best to grab the guillotine stuck in the armor and pulled hard, but the armor tightly wrapped around the blade like a curse, leaving him unable to do anything.

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Another slash roared towards him, and he had to jump back suddenly, barely avoiding it again. The ax blade almost grazed his throat, and he could even feel the dangerous breath. His elegance was no longer replaced by a fighting instinct, and his eyes began to scan the surroundings quickly, looking for weapons that could be used to fight.

However, the only visible weapons around were firmly held in the hands of eight Chaos Warriors. These warriors have surrounded him and the Chaos Champion in the center, their eyes cold and cruel.

At this moment, the Chaos Warriors seemed to have some evil interest in this battle and were just watching from the sidelines.

Turalis knew that if he tried to seize weapons from the Chaos Warriors, they would not stand by and watch.

But, for him, it made the situation more interesting.

After a smooth movement, the dagger at his waist appeared in his hand, and then appeared in the throat of a Chaos Warrior.

The moment the dagger pierced the corrupted flesh, he had already rushed out like a beast. As the Chaos Warrior collapsed to the ground, he drew a heavy sword from the fur scabbard at the warrior's waist.

He turned and swung his sword, blocking a blow from the Chaos Champion's axe. With a sharp metal collision, he swung his sword again, and the jagged sword cut hard into the handle of the battle axe, splitting the huge weapon into two pieces. The Chaos Champion stumbled back, but he pursued relentlessly. At this moment, he caught a hint of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned around quickly and blocked the attack of a Chaos Warrior with a third eye on his forehead with his long sword.

"Sacrifice for Kane!"

He let out a roar full of bloody ecstasy, suppressed his desire to pierce the opponent's third eye with the sword, thrust the sword forcefully into the opponent's throat, and tore it sideways, blood gushing out from the wound like a fountain. The three eyes stood blankly for a moment, and then fell down silently, facing the mud.

Without hesitation, he threw aside the long sword in his hand and picked up the long-handled halberd of the fallen warrior. He quickly dodged to the left to avoid the long sword slashed by another Chaos Warrior, then jumped high and raised the halberd above his head.

"Fight for Kane!"

His voice was like thunder, and the halberd struck with devastating power towards the Chaos Champion. The halberd hit the opponent's head without a helmet hard, splitting the skull in half.

The Chaos Champion fell to the ground, the once shining armor began to rot and shrink rapidly, and the execution knife also slipped from the twisted body and fell into the mud.

Turaris picked up the execution knife and held the familiar weight in his hand again. He turned around and stared coldly at the remaining six Chaos Warriors. One of the barbarians armed with two hammers roared towards him, and the rest of his companions followed closely, holding weapons and shields high, with a desperate and violent momentum.

However, to him, all this is just an ordinary killing, a feast of sacrifice to Kane.

After a fierce and bloody battle, the six Chaos Warriors fell one by one, their blood staining the mud.

Turalis stood among the corpses, blood dripping from the edges of his armor and pooling into the mud on the ground. His breathing was still steady, like the brief silence after a hearty hunt.

The executioner in his hand was still extremely sharp, and the blade flashed with a cold light, as if eager for the next kill. The mottled blood on his armor proved the fierce battle he had just experienced, and the only damage was just a slight dent caused by a barbarian holding a giant hammer. This needed to be repaired, but it did not prevent him from continuing to pursue Cain's glory.

As he slowly stepped out of the pile of corpses and walked along the rubble-covered streets, he found that the city in front of him became surprisingly quiet. There were no enemies, no battles, only empty streets and deepening darkness, shrouding this city engulfed by war. The air was filled with the smell of blood and fire, and the battle cry that originally belonged to the enemy seemed to be swallowed by the shadow, leaving only a silent sense of oppression.

He raised his head, his eyes passed through the ruins and fixed on the towering Tower of Prophecy in the distance.

In any corner of Gorond, you can see this tower symbolizing power and destiny, just like in Nagarond, like in Clarkarond, and like in Har Gansi.

No matter where in Har Gansi, Hellebron's tower is always watching every elf.

The tower is the symbol of Hellebron, the symbol of the Cult of Khaine, and the place where the queen he has been loyal to all his life is.

He sighed, and the cold air turned into a biting chill in his chest. He knew that he should be by Hellebron's side, just like the past thousands of years, guarding her, witnessing her revival, and offering new sacrifices for her. Her figure always lingered in his mind, making him restless.

Hellebron's anger was so spectacular that it seemed to burn everything. Her oath of revenge was as shocking as thunder, but at the same time it made Tularis feel deeply sad. Her body was overwhelmed, her cough was weak, and her shaky body, even if covered with gorgeous robes, could not hide her weakness when she almost knelt on the ground when facing the enemy.

All this made Tularis feel complicated. He loved her deeply, but he could not ignore her fragility.

Every time he saw her, Tularis was reminded that she was both powerful and fragile. Her will was as strong as steel, her anger was as hot as fire, but her body could be easily destroyed by him.

He knew that with just one blow of the slasher, he could end her and destroy the shackles that had bound him for thousands of years, and if he wanted, as long as he reached out, the leadership of the entire Cain Cult would belong to him.

However, he never did it, and he didn't even know why he didn't do it. Was it loyalty? Was it awe? Or some more complicated emotion? These questions lingered in his mind, and there was no answer.

As he was thinking, a strange chill suddenly sobered him up. His intuition caught the danger, and it seemed that something was peeking at him in the shadows. He turned quickly, raised the slasher, took a defensive posture, and scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes.

However, there was nothing.

Only endless shadows surged among the rubble, and those shadows seemed to have life, swaying gently with his breathing.

Suddenly, another glimmer of light passed by.

He turned around again, and this time, he saw it. In the deep darkness, something was condensing, and the shadows surged like flowing water, swirling like ribbons, gradually forming a human figure.

He did not retreat, he held the executioner tightly, his eyes cold and alert. This power, this breath born from the shadows, made him realize that this would be a powerful and dangerous opponent. But at the same time, his will to fight was also ignited. This is the meaning of his loyalty to Kane, facing all challenges, fighting for Kane's glory, no matter where the enemy comes from, no matter how strong or not.

"I don't care who you are or where you come from, but tonight, you will be a sacrifice to Kane!" Tularis whispered, his voice full of cold determination. (End of this chapter)