Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Tigasus' movements made a slight noise, betraying his presence to the armored tyrant. As Malekith turned around, orange eyes burned through his helmet, filled with hatred and rage.

There was no dialogue, no shouting, Tigasus held the dimensional stone knife tightly and slashed at Malekith.

Maybe Malekith was too involved, or maybe he was too close. He couldn't dodge and was hit in the shoulder by the dimensional stone knife. Torn apart by the huge force, the ancient armor parts fell apart with the pull of the blade, falling continuously and rolling to the ground.

Just as Tigasus thought, the warpstone knife was useful. The blade did not stop after cutting through the tyrant's midnight armor, but continued to cut through the Witch King's body, tearing apart the Witch King's flesh and bones. Slit the Witch King's ribs and sternum one by one before his chest explodes.

Tigasus gasped for air, almost suffocating at this moment, his body shaking violently from what he had done. He killed Malekith! He killed the Witch King! He killed the tyrant! With his own hands, he became the master of the entire Nagaroth!

At this moment, grand pictures were swimming in his mind, and he thought of all the ways he would become the new king of Nagaros... However, after only one heartbeat, he realized how wrong what was happening in front of him was. .

Malekith, who was almost split in half by the dimensional stone knife, did not fall down. This terrifying figure still persisted, with the torn armor shaking at the wound. Tigasus noticed that no blood flowed from the wound, and there was no blood spattering on the blade of his knife.

Just as the Tyrant began to draw the Sun Sword, Tigasus struck again, pride driving him to attack Malekith, but the Tyrant's terrifying vitality sent fear racing down his spine. Panic drove him to renew his attack, the kind of panic only a soul condemned to death can feel. After attacking the Witch King, he knew he had only two choices: success or death.

Tigasus' attack arrived at the moment when the Sun Flame Sword was unsheathed. The dimensional stone knife was swung down, and a green steel blurred image cut through the air and bit the Witch King's hand. The blade penetrated Malekith's thick armor, split open the rune-engraved gloves, and the sharp edge shattered the hilt of the tyrant's weapon.

The Yang Yan Sword flew out of his hand and spun in the hall, making a blood-curdling scream that echoed along the dust-covered floor tiles. The Witch King's severed hand fell to the ground with a heavy muffled sound, then rolled on the ground and finally stopped at Tigasus' feet.

"It's fake! It's really fake. How about retrieving the Yang Yan Sword? What a ridiculous trick!"

He glanced at the Sun Flame Sword on the ground and mocked. Regarding the issue of the Sun Flame Sword, a large number of Naggaroth's dignitaries believed that this was a ridiculous political trick by Malekith and Darkus. In order to increase Male's Keith maintains the legitimacy of Naggaroth's rule.

After all, they have never seen or heard of Malekith slashing anyone with the Sun Flame Sword...

The real Sun Flame Sword has long been forgotten in a corner, and this so-called Sun Flame Sword recovered from the Lustria continent is undoubtedly a fake. He was the doubter, and he was convinced. The scene before him now confirmed his judgment. He saw the weakness of the Witch King, and such a tyrant was not worthy of ruling him.

However, when he looked up, he was shocked again by the lack of blood and the Witch King's lack of pain.

Malekith did not recoil from the pain, nor grasp the injured arm. Instead, like an enraged beast, he rushed forward and clawed at Tigasu with the claws of his remaining hand. Sri Lanka. Although his movements seemed hasty and awkward, the anger and unyielding will in his eyes remained unabated.

Tigasus took a step back, then roared angrily and swung the dimensional stone knife again. His eyes flashed with fanaticism, and every step he took was filled with determination and strength. He brandished the dimensional stone knife, and the blade drew green arcs of light in the air, constantly approaching Malekith. Every blow carries endless killing intent, striking at the tyrant mercilessly. The blade made a sharp whistling sound in the air, as if it was thirsting for more flesh and blood.

Malekith tried his best to dodge. Although he lost his right hand, his left hand was still strong. He swung his fists to fight off Tigasus' attacks one after another. However, Tigasus' attacks became more and more fierce, so fierce that his defense was gradually suppressed.

Tigasus, who had found the opportunity, leaned over suddenly, and the blade slashed towards Malekith's leg like lightning.

Malekith barely managed to dodge sideways, but the blade still cut through his leggings.

Before Malekith could launch a counterattack, Tigasus' offensive was like a violent storm, completely suppressing him to the ground.

The tyrant's breathing and Tigasus' wild laughter intertwined in the empty hall, forming a tragic picture of a life-and-death fight. Fear once again moved away from Tigasus. Every swing of his sword was carried with great determination and ferocity, and his eyes flashed with desire for victory and hatred for the Witch King.

Malekith crawled on the ground without a kingly image, trying to avoid Tigasus' attack. Without his hands and weapons, the Witch King is no longer the invincible myth, but a creature struggling to survive.

Tigasus' eyes were filled with enthusiasm, and he knew this was his only chance. His dimensional stone knife drew lines of cold light in the air and struck Malekith on the ground.

"You can't escape, Malekith!" Tigasus roared, his voice echoing in the empty hall. Each of his attacks was filled with anger, as if he wanted to pour all his resentment on this former tyrant.

Malekith's armor rubbed against the ground, making a harsh sound. He crawled with his remaining hands, trying to stay away from Tigasus's attack range, but every time he seemed to have just escaped danger, Tigasus's blade would slash at him mercilessly. Each of Tigasus's attacks carried a destructive force, as if to tear him into pieces.

"Your reign is over!" Tigasus' voice was full of the pleasure of victory, and his blade swung down again, this time hitting Malekith's back. The Witch King let out a painful howl, and the sound of tearing was clearly audible.

Tigasus kept attacking, almost losing his mind, and each of his attacks was filled with endless hatred and madness, as if he wanted to destroy the whole world. He slashed the blade at Malekith again and again until the Witch King could no longer resist and collapsed to the ground, bleeding like a river.

The blade penetrated the tyrant's heavy armor, splashing sparks on the armor. The blade slashed Malekith's shoulder and tore the tyrant's neck.

Malekith's helmet and horn crown were chopped into the air by this blow, and the helmet flew in the air like a black meteor. Tigasus followed closely, unable to believe what he saw. The helmet drew an arc in the air, and finally hit the wall with a dull sound, fell to the ground, and rolled to Tigasus's feet.

Tigasus's breathing was rapid, and his heart was beating wildly. He did it. He did what Druki had not done before. He killed Malekith. His hands trembled slightly, and he could hardly believe the scene in front of him, as if it was just an illusory dream. However, the helmet on the ground reminded him very realistically that all this was true.

He bent down and picked up the helmet that was chopped off, feeling its weight and coldness. The helmet still had the breath of Malekith, symbolizing the supreme authority and power of this tyrant. He held the helmet high, his eyes flashing with fanaticism, and he wanted to engrave this victory in his heart forever.

"I did it!" He shouted in triumph, and the sound echoed in the empty hall. It was a cry of ecstasy and relief, as if all the repression and anger accumulated in his body were released at this moment. His voice was full of power, with an incomparable pride and pride.

Tigasus enjoyed the pleasure of victory, and an unprecedented power surged in his chest. He was no longer the dread lord dominated by the Witch King before, but a hero who killed the Witch King, a legend who rose in the darkness. His eyes were shining, and at this moment, he finally defeated everything and became the real winner.

He held the helmet high, announcing his victory to the whole world. His laughter echoed in the hall, which was an endless ecstasy and satisfaction, as if he had conquered the whole world. He knew that this moment would be forever etched in his memory, the most glorious moment of his life.

However, just as he was about to turn, he caught something out of the corner of his eye, and his hair stood up. He didn't know when, the headless body actually crawled up from the ground and reached out to grab him. He felt the cold fear tightly grasp his heart, especially when he saw the headless tyrant stepping towards him, his heartbeat almost stopped.

The iron claws almost grabbed his throat, and at the last moment, it was reflex rather than conscious thinking that made him sidestep. He dropped his helmet and turned to thrust the blade into the attacker's body. This time, he aimed at the waist, and fear injected desperate strength into his arms. The sharp warpstone knife cut through the metal plate like butter, and the sound of metal shattering resounded throughout the hall.

When he ended his destructive spin, the headless tyrant hit the floor hard and broke in two. He gasped and looked at the pile of splintered armored wreckage, unable to believe that he had defeated this terrifying opponent again. His heart was pounding, his mind was filled with chaotic thoughts, but he knew he had to stay alert and make sure the tyrant was completely incapacitated.

Tigasus watched in shock as Malekith's limp legs tumbled on the ground, the torso, with only one hand, still struggling to turn over and climb up. Despite the continued damage he had caused to the body, there was still no trace of blood, and there was no smell of blood in the air. At this moment, he understood why, as the body that had been split in two struggled on the ground, he could see that there was no flesh inside, just a suit of armor, given a false vitality through some blasphemous sorcery.

At this thought, Tigasus's various emotions were gradually replaced by astonishment, like a basin of icy cold water being poured over his head. He had been deceived, and his efforts were just against a false puppet. His teeth clenched, and his eyes became sharp and cold. He began to understand that the real Malekith might be watching this from somewhere, laughing at his futility.

He held the knife across his chest, and he had to re-evaluate his situation. If the headless armor was only a cover, the real threat still lurked in the shadows, his shaking hands gripping the warpstone knife, ready for any possible attack. His senses were on high alert, tensing up at every tiny sound.

Just as he was concentrating on listening to the movements around him, suddenly, a cold laugh sounded in the darkness, echoing in the silent hall. His heartbeat began to speed up, and he knew that this time the enemy would no longer be a simple puppet. He took a deep breath, stared at the direction where the sound came from, and prepared to meet a new challenge.

This time, he vowed not to be deceived again. The real Malekith would face all his anger and power. No matter how cunning the enemy in front of him was, he would fight unswervingly until the final victory or destruction, because he knew that he had delayed too long and he had no way out.

"Ah~ It seems that you will not add the name of regicide to your achievements. In addition... your performance, tut tut tut..."

Tigasus held the blade tightly and looked warily in the direction of the sound. The loud applause made him turn around quickly.

The hall was suddenly illuminated by several crystal lamps, and he saw several figures emerging from the darkness. These figures were wearing armor from head to toe. There was no doubt that only the black guards were qualified to wear this set of armor. He was sure that these figures were the Black Guard, Malekith's private army, and the one walking in front was Koran Blackhand, the Witch King's most loyal lackey, clapping his hands and mocking.

"The Dread Lord of Naggarond, Tigarthus Thornblood, you are so great that you actually sneaked into your master's tower with the intention of murder." Koran's tone was full of malicious pleasure.

Tigarthus's anger almost swallowed him up. When he stared at Koran, his heart was full of contempt and hatred for the captain of the Black Guard who was born a civilian. He knew that he was played by a puppet, and the feeling of being manipulated made him extremely angry. After seeing that the Midnight Armor was supported by the false vitality given by witchcraft, he knew that he had fallen into a trap, but what he couldn't stand was that this trap was set by a dog like Koran who was born a civilian.

His thoughts were running fast, thinking about how to turn the tables. The other Black Guards were armed, but Kolan was unarmed. This was a mistake. This was his best chance to fight back. He wanted to make sure the dog would regret it in a few seconds.

However, when his peripheral vision swept to the ground, he was stunned.

Tigasus turned his stiff neck to look at the ground. The headless tyrant who was lying there disappeared, and the metal fragments scattered on the ground also disappeared without a trace. The objects that were in front of him a few seconds ago disappeared completely in an instant, as if someone appeared unnoticed and cleaned up the traces of the scene in the few seconds when he and Kolan looked at each other.

He turned his neck again to confirm, his eyes widened, full of disbelief and confusion. The headless tyrant and the metal fragments were indeed gone, and there were only traces left on the floor tiles when he chopped. As his head turned, his peripheral vision caught some existence again, and three figures emerged from the darkness.

These figures were not Black Guards. He had seen these three figures before. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind, each one more terrifying than the last. His heart was beating wildly, his breathing was short, his thoughts were confused but clear.

These three figures were the most powerful beings in Nagaros, of course one of them...

Standing on the left was Kira, the Night Lord of Karonde Karl. She was wearing an eye mask and twisted her mouth, trying to control her twisted expression to avoid laughing suddenly. The scenes that happened just now were too funny and too unbelievable. After entering the hall, Tigasus was like a madman, performing some kind of clown-like performance, a kind of sound comedy, slashing at the air, yelling, and roaring.

Standing in the middle was also the loyal lackey of the Witch King, Hirsis, who was barely a friend of Tigasus. He had participated in the midnight conspiracy more than once, and he and Tigasus belonged to the same circle.

However, Nagaros had no weak people and no friends. Strictly speaking, his only real friend was Dacus, at least he thought so. As for what Dacus thought, he didn't know. He was extremely glad that he did not expand the conflict at that time, but instead made the decision to surrender to Dacus. That decision brought him and his family today and tomorrow.

Now, he was looking at the bewildered Tigasus with a look of disappointment, pity and anger.

Standing on the left was Hag Graves's Night Warden Draka. He was not wearing the armor that could pour out steam, but this did not prevent him from crossing his hands in front of his chest, showing a compelling momentum. His cold eyes stared at Tigasus, as if he was examining an incompetent weakling. At the same time, he had no intention of making a move, because he knew that Tigasus had fallen into despair and did not need to spend any more effort.

"If you want to do things well, you have to do it yourself. You really came. I admire your courage, or... recklessness?"

A voice came from behind Tigasus. This voice made him feel like he was falling into an ice cave. He knew that this voice was made by Malekith. He turned his neck stiffly to find the location where the voice came from.

He is tall and wears armor from head to toe. The metal with runes on it exudes an air of arrogance and contempt. The evil black armor, the tall helmet supporting the horned iron crown, the Yangyan sword hanging at his waist, everything is so recognizable.

Malekith, the Witch King of Naggaroth.

At this time, Malekith was just like Tigasus had just seen, looking intently at the portrait hanging on the wall. In the portrait, Aenarion roared in front of the sacred fire of Asuryan. He didn't even turn his head to look at Tigasus. It seemed that the scene in the painting was more interesting than Tigasus' situation at the moment.

Tigasus reacted completely. From the moment he chose to meet Hermara, he had already fallen into the trap woven for him. This was a land full of chaos, with rumors of betrayal everywhere, and nobles attacking each other. , a strong arm is needed here to bind them again to serve their country.

That the sentries patrolling the hanging bridge between Hemara's own tower and the outer ring surrounding Malekith's black tower were loopholes, these were all lies, all traps. He had been lucky enough to escape the trap Hemara set for him. He had been lucky enough to avoid mistakes through shrewd betrayal, but he knew he could not escape this time, and despair enveloped him.

Malekith knew he would come from the beginning, or Hemara's meeting with him was ordered by Malekith to lure him out. After he entered the Black Tower, Malekith discovered his whereabouts and unknowingly planted an illusion in his mind. The metal fragments scattered on the ground did not exist from the beginning. The moment he launched the attack Already...

However, before Tigasus could think about it, Coran's attack arrived. Hearing the movement, he roared and rushed towards Coran, swinging the blade downwards and shining in the light of the crystal lamp.

There was no wailing sound as the blade penetrated the target, no shattering sound as the armor was torn apart. The unarmed Coran deftly dodged his attack and slammed his fist into his face.

Blood flowed from Tigasus's broken nose. He staggered back. Before he could react, Coran, who rushed towards him again, slammed his fist into his face. With blood and curses, he was beaten hard. Back away. The huge force tore his face apart. The previous fight in the void and the current despair drained his strength. When he staggered back, he instinctively swung the blade upward.

The blade slashed across Coran's abdomen, making a screech of metal friction along the black armor. The blade strengthened by the warpstone only scratched the ancient armor, and the armor's properties were extremely effective, reflecting part of Tigasus' attack. Tigasus screamed after feeling severe pain, and every nerve in him seemed to be burned by candlelight.

"This is the Armor of Sorrow. The magic in it is very keen on punishing those who dare to attack its wearer, you idiot, idiot!" Coran laughed and slapped the breastplate with his hand, but he did not slap Tigasu. He was not stupid when it came to the part where Si chopped off.

The armor's counterattack was shocking, and the warpstone knife slipped from Tigasus's weak hands. He staggered back with his strength drained away, but he was still trying to regain control of his tortured body.

"Catch him." A cold smile appeared on Coran's face again. As the captain of the Black Guard, he ordered his soldiers and waved the Black Guard forward.

The Black Guards, who had been preparing to attack, swarmed forward and knocked Tigasus to the ground with their halberd handles. He felt a sharp pain in his skull when one of the Black Guard's weapons struck him in the head, and he fell unconscious when his head hit the dusty floor tiles.

"Now, I am the tour guide, and I will take you to visit my black tower." (End of this chapter)