Just being a dark elf in Warhammer
Chapter 764 615 Everyone plays their own game
Time goes back to an hour before Daquus blew the attack horn.
Naga Ros'er, Nagarond.
After taking a short nap in the Hell's Disaster Mansion, Hirsis climbed out of bed, tidied his clothes, and quietly left through the deep underground passage. His steps were steady, but there was a trace of calmness and vigilance in his eyes. 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 polished black marble slabs, 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, and its sharp silhouette seemed to have cut several cold traces in the air.
Around, the black guards in heavy armor stood like statues, their eyes cold and scrutinizing, exuding an oppressive feeling that could not be ignored. Their presence casts all eyes and shadows over the courtyard, and every move of the dignitaries seems to be under their scrutiny.
Standing in the center of the courtyard, Hirsis recalls the scene when he first met Dacus. Time goes back, and his figure is reflected on the black stone slab, like a silent sculpture.
He is tall and strong, wearing Kis steel plate armor with golden etched patterns and powerful protective runes. The heavy and complex beauty of the armor shows 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 around 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 shines with low-key splendor, revealing the past of battle and the glory of the family. His face was thin and grim, with a few strands of gray in his black hair, neatly combed back and tied with a gold 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 steel-like will that made people dare not look at him 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 fire starter, he did not rush to take a deep breath, but raised the pipe and slightly signaled 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 reproduced again, but the reproduction was not so perfect.
Anasara did not glare at her son fiercely as she did at the beginning when Newker was amused by Hirsis's exaggerated performance and put his pipe in 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 the venue slightly side-glanced in the cold wind, trying to catch the deep meaning in Anasara's eyes, but they never got anything.
Hirsis, who stopped performing, looked at Anasara and Newker, and seemed to understand something, but did not say it out loud. He just thought secretly in his heart, waiting for the moment to come.
In this world, there is no place more evil and malicious than the gathering of the Dark Council.
In every shadowy corner of Naggaroth, the Dread Lords responded to the call of the Witch King Malekith. Whether they were butchers who lived only for killing, tyrants who trampled countless lives, or villains who indulged in depravity and madness unimaginable to mortals, none of them dared to disobey this order. The majesty of the Witch King was enough to dispel any thought of daring to refuse.
The Black Tower of Malekith soared into the sky, overlooking the streets and spires of Naggarond. The Council Hall was vast and boundless, and the dome was hidden in the 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 complex and strange patterns, standing like silent ghosts. The stone gods on the buttresses looked down coldly at everything in the hall. Each god's eyes were inlaid with huge gems, which became more gloomy under the effect of magic, exuding a fiery and evil breath.
The walls between the buttresses were almost completely covered with bloody tapestries, woven from bloodstained scalps, each of which silently told the fate of those who dared to challenge the authority of the Witch King 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, with a smooth surface like a mirror, but full of shuddering symbols and emblems.
These emblems represented the noble families who could sit here, but next to some emblems, you could see the dim outlines of ruby shards, symbolizing that these families had been completely eliminated from the Dark Council by Malekith and completely erased from the world of the living. And next to these abolished emblems, new emblems were engraved, and new noble families inherited these seats.
As Malekith often said: The past is returning, and life is constantly reincarnated, life, death, rebirth, and repetition.
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 repair work, 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 have been retained in their original appearance out of respect for the dead. Those seats that have not been replaced are occupied by the Duruchi nobles who are "eternal" in a special way.
Some of these nobles who sleep here have bodies that are so fresh that they exude the stench of decay, while others have dried up into empty shells covered with dust and cobwebs as time passes. Although they were killed for angering the Witch King at some point in the past, the special status of them allowed them to stay in this grand event forever. Of course, they can only participate in a broken form.
These seats are exclusive to them and never need to be replaced, because they are the core of this dark council, both in life and after death.
Morathi sat on 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. The two sorceress maids behind her stood silently, like silent statues.
Unlike the maids that Dakwus saw when he first attended the Dark Council, these two were strangers. At that time, one of the maids later became his lover for some reason, and the other disappeared without a trace. As for the ending of the other, whether she was hiding in a corner or had been lost in the endless river of history, perhaps only Morathi knew.
Malekith sat quietly on the throne, playing with the Yangyan Sword in his hand. The sword exuded a faint golden glow, which formed a sharp contrast with the cold black of the throne. He lowered his head and stared at the sword edge, and 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 did not know what to say to Morathi, and he did not want to say anything. 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 slightly raised a sneer, which was a manifestation 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 was no whispering in the council hall, no echo, only a strange silence.
As time slowly arrived, the breath of time seemed to solidify in the conference hall. When Malekith sheathed the golden-glowing Yangyan Sword, the atmosphere of 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 wide throne hall, like a prelude to a command. A cold wind blew into the hall with the call of the Dark Council, bringing a cold breath, as well as the noise and whispers outside the door.
Malekith's gaze did not shift as the door opened. He tilted 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 the years 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 came in one after another.
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. His brows furrowed slightly, and he 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 low or excited footsteps, and entered this area shrouded in darkness.
Every meeting, the order is always so strict and unshakable. The first to enter are always those dignitaries who control a city or a place, and the first to arrive are always Annasara and Newkel.
The mother and son walked without hesitation. Anasara 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. And Newkle, wearing a black robe with gold threads, was as unpleasant as ever, maintaining a kind of elegance that was lacking in the Duruchi society.
Behind the mother and son was Yegelmai, a high-level animal trainer of the Hell Disaster Family. He walked in with a steady and powerful step. 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 Newkle.
There was an undisguised silence in the air. Although there were many nobles, they seemed particularly 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 changes.
The nobles from Karonde Kar followed closely and began to enter the venue under the leadership of the female Night Lord Kira. Their dress was extremely exaggerated, revealing a sense of reckless exaggeration. They wore Kaitan made of manticore or hydra scales, with dragon tendon 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 further highlighted their arrogance and pride. There was an obvious pride in everyone's eyes, as if every breath they took was proving how invincible they were.
However, unlike before, this time, their eyes did not stare at the opposite delegation of Clarkarond fiercely with hostility and anger as usual. Although the history between them was still full of hatred, at this moment, they lacked the fierce killing intent and bloody provocation in their eyes.
Perhaps it was because they realized the majesty of the Witch King, perhaps it was because Daquus suddenly appeared, perhaps they had something to ask of Clarkarond, or perhaps they felt the coming of the storm, the hatred and hostility that once permeated were replaced by a more complex emotion.
The next dignitaries to enter were the Dread Lords from Nagarond. The first to enter was Agileth, the second was Hirsis, and then Tigasuth Thornblood, Korem Trembling Sword and other Dread Lords entered one after another.
Then came the delegation of Hag Graves led by Night Warden Draka and Valahar Chagorosh. The number of people in this delegation was also bleak. As Valahal, Lehan, the Fallen Blade, has long become the dust of history, a legend of the Duruchi society, and a joke among the dignitaries.
As time goes by, a new joke has appeared in Naggaroth: "If you have a son, you should have Malus." This is a beautiful blessing, but also a vicious curse.
When cypress is used as a name, it has a good meaning, toughness, beauty, and longevity. But... since that person, taking cypress as a name seems 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 were left, and the main one was sparsely populated and could not be filled. Those small families that are still developing are not qualified to enter the venue at present.
Then, the patriarchs of the Shadow Clan, Gorond, Hal Gansi, and the dread lords stationed in various strongholds in the north entered one after another.
Captain Corran Blackhand of the Black Guard entered and sat at the entrance. As usual, his scarlet halberd stood beside him, but unlike usual, his eyes behind the slit of his helmet did not move from one participant to the next.
This time, the Dark Council was not convened at the right time, but it was the right time. At this time, the greatest bride of Cain was in a semi-aging stage, just like the battery of a mobile phone, which was maintained at 60% of the battery.
Hellebron stepped into the council hall with an elegant pace. Her movements were still smooth and steady, and every step was noble and majestic. Although the years left traces on her, she still maintained a breathtaking aura.
Her white hair, which was almost dragged to the floor, glowed with a soft silver light under the weak light. Although her face was no longer as young as it was at the beginning, her former peerless 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 out of this world. The corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a faint smile, which was cold but irresistible.
She wore a finely cut dark red robe, with the opening on the chest interlaced with fine black and gold chains, and the embroidered Kane emblem 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 restless power. Her nails were dyed crimson, and her slender fingers were full of various rings, each of which was inlaid with shining gems, as if condensing the essence of countless souls.
Her eyes flashed with fanaticism and danger, and when she walked into the parliament hall, the air seemed to stagnate for a moment. Some of the dignitaries who looked at her quickly lowered their heads to express 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 Cain.
The Dark Council officially began.
As the heavy door slowly closed, the clicks echoing 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 did not speak, still sitting on the throne, without any intention of getting up. His orange-red eyes flickered in the dark council hall, and his eyes swept across every participant sharply, like an invisible sharp blade, piercing the hearts of the participants and understanding every tiny detail of the participants.
He could almost smell the uneasiness and fear emanating from the attendees, and that anxious atmosphere filled the entire venue. He could feel the wandering eyes of some of the participants, and it was difficult to hide their thoughts.
Some people crossed their hands on their chests, trying to stay calm, but the hesitation and uncertainty in their eyes could not be concealed; some people even glanced around subconsciously, as if looking for an escape route; while some people pretended to show a kind of A look of contemptuous confidence and pride.
At this moment, a deep sense of frustration surged in his heart. His mother had been controlling him behind the scenes and no longer even 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 pawn on the chessboard.
What makes Malekith feel even more sad and angry is that many of the fear lords he was originally proud of have begun to waver. Betrayal and conspiracy spread like a plague, taking root in some hearts. Some of the fear lords were no longer loyal to him, and some even made some deals and agreements behind his back that were unknown to him.
In the words of Darkus: everyone plays his own game.
Yet despite the frustration, he clung to a resilient hope. He knew that even though the situation was so complicated and there were many undercurrents behind it, there were still some fear lords who were loyal to him and stood firmly on his side. These allies who had fought side by side and experienced life and death still regarded him as the Witch King and placed their faith in him. What he can see in the eyes of these supporters is not only dependence on power, but also support and expectations for his future plans.
Due to the Witch King's silence, the atmosphere in the venue became suffocating, and the participants could almost hear every tiny tremor in the air. The tense atmosphere made some participants' hearts beat violently, as if a storm was about to break out at the next moment.
"Before the meeting is held, can you explain why! Grond has a large number of Chaos believers?"
Just when the attendees thought that Malekith was still prepared to remain silent, he stood up suddenly, holding the scabbard of the Sun Flame Sword tightly in his hand, and the hilt made a faint metallic friction sound in his hand. He didn't take a step, but with unfathomable momentum, he sent a question like ice to Morathi.
His voice was as biting as ice and snow, penetrating the eardrums of every participant, carrying an irrefutable pressure. Every word he spoke seemed to explode in the air, bringing up a cold wind and almost making the hearts of everyone in the hall sink.
Morathi's expression changed drastically at this moment. Her originally confident and calm face was instantly replaced by a look of astonishment and disbelief. Her eyes were wide open, with a look of surprise and uneasiness that could not be concealed. Her body trembled slightly. She did not expect that her son would ask such a question at this time.
"You! You broke the law! You! You brought shame on my father!"
However, Malekith did not give his mother time to react. With his angry roar, he suddenly pulled out the Sun Flame Sword. The blade of the sword made a sharp buzzing sound and drew a bright light in the air. The moment the sword blade pointed at Morathi, his voice sounded again, as cold as ice, full of murderous intent and unquestionable threat.
Each word condenses in the air like ice, carrying an irresistible awe.
The atmosphere in the council chamber suddenly became extremely depressing. Most of the people present were shocked and overwhelmed by the 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 mixture of complex emotions. She knew that every word Malekith said represented the harshest accusation against her, and she always thought she could control everything from behind. But now, her son stood in front of her and became the one to challenge her. She knew the meaning behind it. She had been tricked by Malekith.
"you……"
She forced herself to regain her composure, took a deep breath, and tried her best to suppress the fluctuations in her heart. However, her voice still had a tremor, and her voice was not as calm as before. All this far exceeded her expectations. I never thought something like this would happen.
"In Nagaros, the law cannot be touched! Where have you put my father? You are trampling on my father's honor! I don't want to hear any more sophistry!"
However, Malekith's eyes still did not soften at all, the edge of the Sun Flame Sword was still pointed at Morathi, and his voice sounded again, as cold as ice.
At this moment, he was no longer the young prince who once relied on his mother. His eyes were burning with the anger and determination that belonged to the Witch King. This tearing of family ties will be the beginning of his final rise!
"Ah! Ah! Ah!!!"
Heliben suddenly let out a sharp scream. She, who was sitting at the round table, suddenly jumped up from her seat like a falcon in the storm and rushed straight towards Morathi. At this moment, her eyes were burning with uncontrollable wantonness and murderous intent. Her body seemed to be possessed by an ancient and violent light, like the God of Blood Hand, and she rushed towards Morathi with the aura of Kane.
Her movements were fast and sharp, each step was as fast as lightning, and the round table seemed to tremble under her footsteps. The first step, the second step, and the third step, her figure shuttled through the air like a ghost, opening her hands, revealing sharp nails, like a hunting beast, trying to tear everything apart. With her extremely fast speed, her figure disappeared from everyone's eyes almost instantly, making it difficult to capture, leaving only the pressing feeling in the air.
Morathi's words that she was about to fight back were choked instantly. Her heart sank suddenly. The shadow of death had already enveloped her body. Helliben's anger was like an unstoppable torrent, swallowing her up in an instant. She knew that old and new hatreds were compounded, and Hurley, who wished she was dead, would kill her without hesitation.
A strong fear surged in her heart, and only one thought flashed through her mind - escape! She almost didn't think about it, almost driven by instinct, and immediately activated the emergency spell. Her spells reacted as quickly as thunder and lightning. The moment Heliben almost touched her, the brilliance of magic suddenly burst out, and a strong flash of light exploded in the air.
Caught off guard, Helene was stunned for a moment, but it was only for a moment. She knew that Morathi was going to escape, and she also knew that this was her last chance. She must seize this precious opportunity. There was a conflict between her and Morathi. There is an account to be settled that has lasted for five thousand years. The moment she touched Morathi, a sudden energy shock swept through the entire conference hall. The distortion of the space caused her figure to be swallowed up immediately, and then disappeared into the air.
Along with her, Morathi's sharp cry and twisted figure disappeared. All that was left in the air was the sudden silence.
The scene fell into a deathly silence for a time, and the two maids present did not react at all. They stood there stunned, as if the whole world suddenly became unreal. Their eyes were panicked and confused, and they looked around. By the time they realized what had happened, Heliben and Morathi had completely disappeared.
The atmosphere in the conference hall suddenly became extremely tense. Everyone felt the unspeakable oppression, and their hearts seemed to be hit by a heavy hammer and torn apart silently. No one dared to speak, and no one dared to move. Everyone was shrouded in an invisible fear at this moment.
Malekith did not give anyone a chance to breathe. Without any warning, he suddenly inserted the Sun Flame Sword back into its scabbard, and then pulled out another sword from his waist, the Destroyer that exuded the aura of death.
The black luster of the sword's blade flashed in the dim light, and his movements were crisp and neat, with almost no hesitation. At that moment, his sword swing was like a flood that burst a dam, sweeping out instantly. 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 full of confusion and panic, and she had no time to react.
"Bang!"
Blood spattered, and with a sweep of the sword, the bodies of the two maids were instantly cut in half, and they fell to the ground instantly. The sight of blood flowing was particularly dazzling in this heavy atmosphere. They died without any struggle, not even a cry of pain. He died so quickly and cleanly, as if even his soul was harvested instantly.
This fatal blow was perfect and decisive. Malekith showed no fluctuations, as if he was ready to face it all. He did not stop, nor did he lower his head to look at the maid who had fallen to the ground. His eyes were fixed on Tigasus, who was sitting on the round table 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 could not make him calm down and think.
Malekith's eyes ignited with blazing fire, almost lighting up the entire venue. The hilt of the Destroyer sword he held tightly in his hand exuded a terrifying aura. He did not hesitate at all. There was only firm determination and unshakability in his eyes. of majesty. He stared at Tigasus, as if he wanted to tear Tigasus apart completely, crushing away any arrogance and resistance in Tigasus inch by inch with his eyes.
Tigasus let out a low cough in his throat, and seemed to want to say something, but was tightly bound by the sudden fear and absolute oppression, and could not even utter a word. At this time, there was only fear and panic in his eyes. He knew that he was ridiculous. Every move he made was under the control of Malekith, and Malekith's eyes at this moment were like invisible blades. Cut open his heart.
"Do you want me to read it again and call the names one by one, or now, do you want to take the initiative to stand up?"
Malekith's voice was low and cold. He flipped his hand gently and grasped the list written by Silsis in his hand like a magic trick. In this suffocatingly quiet atmosphere, his eyes scanned the participants on the list without a trace of pity in his eyes. The list in his hand was flipped gently on his fingertips, and the tension in the air became thicker. Everyone's heartbeat seemed to accelerate with the appearance of that list.
Koulan, who was sitting quietly, finally moved, and his movements seemed to indicate some kind of extreme explosion. He was tall and holding a scarlet halberd in his hand. The blade of the halberd shone with blood-colored brilliance under the light, giving people a sense of oppression coming towards his face.
His standing posture is as stable as a rock, and his whole body is tight and full of fighting tension. This is the posture of a true warrior, a terrifying existence that has been on the battlefield for a long time!
In the dark corner of the venue, the figures of the black guards surged like a tide, gathering silently and quickly, like countless ghosts in the darkness, suddenly exuding an oppressive aura.
These black guards were all wearing pitch black armor, and even the air seemed to become heavy with their footsteps. Each Black Guard is like a cursed dead soldier. Their eyes have no emotion, only absolute loyalty to their orders. Their steps were almost silent, but each step brought with them the steps of death.
The sounds of killing and wailing intertwined, echoing between the four walls of the conference hall, as if an endless nightmare crawled out from the depths of the underworld.
The air was filled with the smell of blood, and the sounds of cracking flesh and breaking bones alternated. Those Druchi dignitaries and fear lords who dared to resist, as well as the enemies who dared to stand in front of Malekith, fell one after another, screaming and groaning, and the sounds were heard.
After a while, the door of the conference hall was slowly opened, and the light came in through the crack in the door, making it particularly dazzling.
Outside the door, there was a cool breeze, bringing with it 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 the two worlds were intertwined and collided.
Malekith waved his hand gently, his movements were elegant but full of majesty, as if he had an order that could not be disobeyed. All the noise suddenly stopped, and all the black guards stopped their movements, as if waiting for his instructions.
"Clean it up. You may not know that our dear Darkus doesn't like to see this, and... don't let the upcoming guests see the joke." (End of Chapter)
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