Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

"Have you two decided to stay here?" Aris asked, with a bit of helplessness and confusion in his tone.

Facing this uninvited guest, Isharion and Bel-Ahor did not show too much enthusiasm, but they did not treat him coldly. Their reaction was just flat, as if this was just an ordinary conversation.

"Of course." Bel-Ahor responded briefly, his voice was calm and low, but there was a hint of firmness in his tone that could not be ignored. He answered without hesitation. He made this decision before coming to Naggaroth, and there was no need to discuss it.

And Isharion expressed his attitude in a more direct way. While he slowly tore off a small piece of bread, he shrugged and said vaguely, "Where else can we go?"

Aris looked at the two of them and sighed. He wanted to say something, but found himself speechless for a while. He looked down at the carpet under his feet, and at this moment, his thoughts were in a mess. The scenes that happened in the past few days emerged in his mind, and the overlapping events made him feel dizzy.

He had experienced so much in the past few days. Morathi died, and Helleben died too. This should have been a good thing, a victory worth celebrating. He thought he would feel a sense of relief, even comfort. However, the reality was not like that, and his heart was shrouded in a lingering uneasiness.

This abnormality had nothing to do with his personal safety, and he knew very well that he was safe at the moment. His intuition told him that the source of this uneasiness was closely related to the future of the elves. He could vaguely feel that the Duruchi, a group intertwined with blood and conspiracy, was undergoing some profound changes, and this change might make them stronger, more cruel, and more difficult to deal with.

"Druchi will be stronger." Aris whispered to himself, looking past Bel-Aihor and Issarion, looking at the inner tent not far away, looking at a more distant place.

Bel-Aihor noticed the change in Aris's expression, but did not ask much. He just watched quietly, waiting for Aris to speak out his inner confusion.

Eltharion continued to eat his bread, as if everything had nothing to do with him. But in fact, he kept looking at Aris from the corner of his eyes, not really indifferent. He swallowed a mouthful of bread and finally asked.

"So, what is your plan for coming to us? Or... do you just want to talk to someone?"

Aris came back to his senses, his eyes wandering between Eltharion and Bel-Ahor. He opened his mouth, wanting to answer, but in the end he just shook his head and sighed deeply.

When he was young, he spent time with the crow messengers of Molaig. The messengers were believers of the goddess of fate, named after the symbol of black feathers, and dedicated their lives to weaving a web for fate.

During those times, he saw the subtle arrangements of fate and experienced the incredible miracles of the interweaving of the threads of fate. Therefore, many people suspected that he himself was the incarnation of fate, or at least the embodiment of the Queen of Vengeance, Dracoola.

But he knew his own affairs clearly, and he knew that he was not the incarnation of fate, nor the messenger of revenge. He is the chosen one of Kunos and Lilith, a chess piece on the line of fate.

He cannot dominate the overall situation, let alone reverse the fate of the future. The only thing he can do is to accept the fate, just like everything he was forced to accept when he was young.

His eyes gradually dimmed, and a sense of powerlessness rose in his heart. He is indeed here, but his existence is due to Lilith's revelation, not his own choice. Lilith asked him to come to this place, just to come here, but never gave clear guidance. He had no idea about what happened next, and he could not dominate it, so he could only watch.

"Perhaps, the only thing I can do is to fight for a glimmer of life for our people at the critical moment." Aris whispered to himself, with complex emotions in his tone, both helpless and relieved.

The atmosphere in the tent was silent. Aris sat in a chair and fell into thought, Bel-Ahor was in a daze in silence, and Issarion continued to gnaw the damn bread one bite after another as if nothing had happened, as if that piece of bread was the most delicious thing in the world.

After a long time, the curtain of the tent was lifted.

Dacus walked in, exuding his calmness and pressure. Isharion and Bel-Ahor immediately stood up and bowed to him. He waved his hand, indicating that the two did not need to be polite. His eyes swept across the tent and finally fell on Aris, who had his back to him. Seeing Aris turned his head, he nodded slightly, as a greeting.

Then, he walked to Aris, pulled out a chair and sat down, picked up a piece of bread on the table and started eating.

"What happened last night?" He took a bite of the bread and asked casually.

"That barbarian... he is very strange. He should be a deformer? But there is a demon in his body, a very powerful demon." Isharion put down the bread in his hand, hesitated for a moment, and answered.

At the end, Isharion's face showed a trace of lingering fear. His memory resurfaced, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong. The power and presence of the demon were too terrifying.

“Zakhan.” Daxus nodded and said firmly, “I fought it a long time ago. It was the turning point of your fate, but you defeated it. Otherwise, maybe what I saw today would be another Malus, tsk…”

He took a sip of the grape juice he brought with him, moistened his throat, and began to talk about Little Mako... No, not Little Mako, his Little Mako is his cousin Malanul, the middle Mako is Malekith, the old Mako is his beloved Mazdamuddi, Malus... No Mako?

"It was in Gorond, I held the Scarlet Sword and the Khaine Dimension Sword and exiled Zarkan." After saying that, he sighed, "The Scarlet Sword..."

The Scarlet Sword had accompanied him for a long time, and was eventually damaged in a shocking battle, but it was not a loss. The Khaine Dimension Sword was sealed up, and perhaps it will be exhibited in the Cathedral of Edraze in the future to show its glory?

"Do you feel anything special?" Dakwus paused and looked up and asked.

"I can't tell what it feels like, but I can feel... I seem to have become stronger?" After listening to the story, Eltharion's face turned pale. He would rather die than be possessed by the devil, and he also understood why the devil chose him. He thought for a moment and answered.

"Should I congratulate you? You have already achieved two victories in killing demons, far exceeding your peers." Dacus smiled, with a hint of teasing on his lips.

"Are you in the same age group?" Isharion glanced at Dacus with a strange look, obviously dissatisfied with Dacus's tone of elder.

He had never really adapted to Dacus's attitude. He was only ten years younger than Dacus and was considered the same age as Dacus. But Dacus's unparalleled achievements and personal charm convinced him, and even made him admire him.

He was now used to Dacus's way of speaking.

"No, I'm not in this age range. You know," Dacus said after swallowing the last bite of bread, with a meaningful smile on his face, "You've seen me at that meeting. I'm the chosen one of Molaig, and I'm the incarnation of fate itself! I come, I see, I dominate!" His laughter echoed in the tent, with a firm and confident momentum, as if the whole land was under his control.

After hearing this, Isharion and Bel-Ahor did not refute, but just nodded. They knew in their hearts that this was not an exaggeration of Dacus, but an undeniable fact. They had witnessed with their own eyes how Dacus dominated the situation and how he single-handedly forced those forces that had never met to the same table.

It was Dacus's existence and actions that put them in this land they had never set foot on, and they had to admit that fate showed its most unfathomable side in this person.

"What meeting?" Aris, who had been listening silently, suddenly spoke up, breaking the brief silence.

Eltharion and Bel-Ahor looked at each other, weighing whether to reveal more. Finally, they turned to look at Dacreus, waiting for his answer.

"There is nothing that cannot be said." Dacreus waved his hand, not seeming to mind sharing, "Although you are excluded by the mainstream of Ulthuan, you should know that Finnubar led a delegation to Elsin Arwen, and I also led a delegation. We finally met in a special place, the garden of the ancient saints, that is, Athel Loren."

Aris raised his eyebrows, puzzled by this unfamiliar place.

"That place was originally dominated by the Chosen of Kunos and the incarnation of Aisha." Dacreus paused, and a slightly sarcastic smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, "But with my appearance, everything changed. I come, I see, I lead!"

"Druchi, Asur, Asrai, and Enil sat together for a meeting to talk about the past, present and future." He said, but his eyes seemed to return to that historic moment.

Aris frowned slightly, he was dissatisfied with this ambiguous description. He opened his mouth and wanted to ask more questions, but soon closed it again. He knew that Dacus paused at the critical moment to attract him, but in the end, he couldn't help asking, "What are the specific contents?"

"The meeting didn't last too long, but there were a lot of contents, and it would take more than a day to tell. However, I can tell you some important fragments." Dacus showed an expression that he knew it would happen, smiled, and continued.

His tone was deliberately slow, whetting Aris's appetite.

"Sariel first talked about the past. He talked about the origin of the elves, how they were born from the creations of the ancient saints, and how they blended with nature..."

"You want to ask who Salir is? He is the incarnation of Hos." After saying that, he added another sentence.

Aris opened his mouth to speak, but finally closed his mouth. He wanted to say that he didn't ask at all, but seeing Dacus's smug expression with a bit of "I know you want to ask", he simply chose to remain silent.

"It was peaceful at first." Dacus continued, "but as the story progressed, the conflict between Duruchi and Asur began to intensify. In the end, the two sides quarreled over who was responsible for the division and who should pay for the war." His tone was calm, but every word seemed to reveal an unbearable past.

"Malekis? Barshana?" Aris asked tentatively.

"Yes, when the quarrel escalated to the point of being irreconcilable, I had to intervene." Dacus nodded, and as he spoke, his eyes swept to Isharion and Bel-Ahor. He paused and did not continue to describe in detail, "There are some details that I will not mention." He sighed, he did not want to open the scars again, it was meaningless.

He turned to Arms, and there was a trace of complicated emotions in his tone. "Fate is cruel, Arist, especially for you. Your life is being wrapped in the waves of fate. This is why I let Lilith contact you The reason.

Aris did not respond, but just lowered his eyes and thought about every word of Dakius. The two secondary sons in the tent remained silent and thought of each other. They know that the truth of that meeting is much more complicated than Dadicus, and the trend of fate is far more unpredictable than the surface seeing.

Soon, Aris's thoughts became erratic, and gradually, his thoughts returned.

He stood side by side with his companion and looked at the west quietly. Soon after, Truch's army appeared in the sight, and from the road in the northwest direction, it seemed like a black ribbon cut into the hills.

He glanced at the sky and looked for the dragon knight or lion tail, but found nothing. This seems to show that his plan is successful: the witch will come to confront him in person.

Despite countless hardships, when he saw the scene where the Trucci army covered the hills, he still felt a little uneasy. The number of Trucci is unimaginable, and roughly estimates more than 100,000. Where did these soldiers come from? He has no clue. Perhaps Morass has been secretly hoarding these troops for many years, waiting for a suitable leader?

In the distance, the Trucci army stopped outside the range of the crossbow, and the intention was clear: he would not face direct threats and would stay in place.

The whispering whisper and the vigilance shouted caught his attention. The shadow soldiers pointed at the sky, and a dragon slowly descended from the clouds. This is the biggest dragon he has ever seen. When he was about to order the troops to retreat to the forest, he saw the dragon headed back and flew back to the Trucci army and landed in front of the army.

A tall figure jumped down from the back of the dragon and landed beside the dragon. The air was twisted around him, and the black mist intertwined with the heat wave.

Aris stared at the witch king slowly.

There is no mistake, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one 619, one book, one, one, one, one, one, one, a book!

The witch king is taller than any elves, and the whole body is wrapped in black armor. Holding a shield with a burning golden rune on it, it stabbed Aris's eyes. He held the sword in his right hand, burning the faint blue flame from the horn handle to the tip of the sword, and cast a swaying shadow on the snow.

However, what attracts Aris the most attention is the king's armor. When the witch king approached less than a hundred steps, he saw that the armor was not pure black, and it exudes a dark red light. The rivets and seams on the armor seem to be just taken out of the furnace, and the heat is still exuding, and the steam rotates around the witch king.

Every time the witch king took the snow, the snow was melted, the ground was burned, and the air retreated because of his existence.

The shadow soldiers watched the Witch King vigilantly and put the bow in their hands on the arrow, but Aris ordered them not to attack.

Aris wants to figure out who is the person who claims to be Nagaris.

Soon, his eyes were attracted by the witch's eyes. It was a pair of eyes burning with black flames, but the empty hole was full of energy. In addition to the horrible eyes, the face of the witch is completely covered by the helmet. The helmet is made of black gold and a kind of silver -gray metal that is not reflective.

Aris took out the dagger from his waist and cut the racks with a spear with a spear. He trembled his spear, the canvas fell with the wind, showing the flag on the spear, and the banner tied to the golden wire rope began with the wind.

This is a dilapidated flag. The edges are full of holes and worn stitches. The white flag should now become dirty brown gray. Although the pattern was blurred, he still recognized that the pattern was the coat of golden griffin wings, which was a symbol of the Annar family.

A courage was poured into Aris's heart, dispersing the fear shrouded around the witch. This battle flag fluttered since the Eunarion era. He learned the power of the flag. It was the power of even the blood of the Annar family. With firmness, he looked directly at his enemy.

"Why did you step into this land without the permission of the Lord of the Annar family and the king of Nagaris Shadow, Aris Analle? If you are here to negotiate with me, then hear my vows ! No forgotten, no forgiveness! "

Arist held a dilapidated banner and asked.

The witch king stopped six steps away from Aris, and his hot breath burned Aris's skin. His eyes like hell moved to the flag. He pointed at him, and the flag immediately burned black flames and turned into a scorching fragment, floating in the wind, leaving only a smoke flagpole.

"The Anal family has been destroyed." The Witch whispered, his voice was low and echoed, as if from a distant temple. "Now only I rule Nagaris, swore to me, and your past will be forgotten. Your betrayal will be forgiven.

"You make me a king of grave, a nihilistic guardian." Aris laughed, he was laughed, and then his look became serious and his eyes were sharp. "Why do you ask such loyalty?"

The witch king took a step forward, and Aris almost exhausted all the courage to shrink back. The hot was almost unbearable, making his eyes red and his skin cracking. He licked his lips, but found that his mouth was dry and dry. What made him most unbearable was the cold and dirty black magic feeling, as if he was drawing away from his blood and frozen his heart.

"Don't you recognize me, Aris?" The Witch whispered, his tone was indifferent, he lowered his head, approaching Aris, "Are you unwilling to be loyal to me again?"

The sound of the creature in front of him was dumb and broken, but Aris still recognized it. A long time ago, he kept all his hopes and dreams on the promise of this sound. The sound had vowed to liberate Nagaris from Morah's tyranny. He once believed that now, the voice asked him to surrender.

That was Malekis's voice.

"Hey, what do you think?" The bread in Dak Us's hand seemed to be given life. He patted it on the table, and the dry sound echoed in the tent, as if a shocking wood.

Aris looked back and looked at Dakius complicatedly without answering.

"Now, things are over." Dakius led the first, with a flat tone, as if stating a established fact.

"So, should I leave? Will you let me go?" Aris's voice couldn't hear emotions, neither like a question nor doubt.

"Otherwise?" Dakius raised his eyebrows, "I promised Lilith, I won't make you. Although the relationship with her ... that's it, but I made a promise, and I promised My person, pay attention to promise. "

"Just like you to Herburn?" Aris asked coldly, he witnessed Herburn's death, he didn't know all of them, but he knew that Herbin appeared in Goronde Sri Lanka.

"Hahahaha." Dakius laughed, with a hint of unknown emotions in the laughter, as if ridiculed, and like a joke.

Aris' response was just indifferent gaze.

"Rest assured." After the laughter stopped, Dakius said, "There will be a raid ship to leave you after a while. By the way, I also prepared some specialties from Elisrel, which is absolutely safe. After all, doing so is meaningless. Isn't it? "

"Should I say thank you?" Aris was depressed, with irony in his eyes.

"Don't thank you." Dakius shook his head, with a smile on his face, "This is my responsibility as the master. After returning, don't come. Alis, I am a voter of Moragi, For me, fate is like a scroll, I can feel its lines and trends. "To put it bluntly, don't have the idea of ​​sneaking into Nagaros. You know better than anyone, what will happen once you do so."

Aris didn't speak, just staring straight at Dakius, as if looking at the depths of the soul through Dakius's smile.

"You and Malekis will have a day of solution, but not now. In the future, in Osu'an. You will meet there to solve the grievances that belong to you." Dakius's tone of tone After returning to peace, he looked at Aris, and his eyes had a trace of complicated emotions. "Rest assured, I won't intervene, that is something between you, I will not interfere."

"So, in your fate, my future ... what does it look like?" Aris was silent for a moment.

"Elsin Alvin." Dakius smiled and looked deep, as if looking straight at the context of destiny. His voice was low but firm. And finally stay there. "

When Aris heard this, he smiled, but the smile was full of desolation and irony. He seemed to be laughing at his destiny, and he was mocking his destiny itself.

After laughing, he glanced at Esarine and Bell Avohol. The two Azer didn't speak, but lowered their heads and looked complicated. He took a deep breath, stood up, sorted out the cloak, and then turned to leave the tent.

Dak Uesmu gave Aris away, and his fingers stunned the table gently, as if thinking about something.

"Will he come back?" Alzarion asked in the end.

"No, he won't." Dacus replied lightly, with a kind of calmness in his eyes, "but he will leave his mark elsewhere elsewhere."

After speaking, he picked up the grape juice at hand, took a sip, then leaned back to the chair, closed his eyes, as if to feel the upcoming future. (This chapter is finished)