Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

A group of Duruchi lined up in full gear and rushed into the barracks. The leader was Hadris, the admiral of the Fortress of Eternal Terror. His sea dragon cape and octopus-style armor were particularly conspicuous among the followers.

When Hadris saw the mercenaries in turmoil, he shouted with hatred. He was very angry. He knew that this group of mercenaries was unreliable, but he didn't expect that the camp bombing would really happen as Dorien predicted, and it happened first in his jurisdiction. How could he report to the emperor?

With the arrival of the army, the barracks suddenly fell into a more terrifying chaos and disorder. Hadris's roar was like a spark that ignited the gunpowder barrel, instantly detonating the entire camp. The mercenaries were already on the verge of riots, and now their sanity completely collapsed. The flames of the camp bombing spread rapidly, attacking every corner like a plague.

"Kill them! Kill them!" Hadris's order was like thunder, deafening, and set off a bloody storm.

His followers and family guards were like ferocious beasts, their weapons flashing with deadly cold light. Their charge swept through like a tide, dragging countless mercenaries into the vortex of death.

The elite garrisons of Chapeyuto and the southern outposts also quickly joined the crazy massacre. Their armor flashed in the chaotic light. These veterans from Nagarond and Nagor did not hesitate to swing their weapons at anyone who stood in their way.

The scattered lines of the mercenaries were broken in an instant, and the camp was filled with screams of terror, roars and the sound of metal collision. Blood gushed out from pierced chests and broken limbs like a fountain, dyeing the ground of the camp dark red.

Crazy, everyone was crazy.

The mercenaries fled in all directions, some trying to find a safe exit, and some desperately resisting, but in the face of the tide of attacks, their resistance seemed so fragile. Blades and arrows crossed in the air, blood was splashed in the fierce battle, and screams came one after another, like a scene of purgatory.

The flames spread, and the tents and wooden barracks turned to ashes in the flames. Smoke filled the air, and the pungent smell almost suffocated all the Duruchi. The battlefield was filled with despair and fear. Hadris's eyes became colder and more ruthless in the chaos. His anger burned like a flame, and he would not allow anyone to escape. He wanted to cleanse this camp with blood, wash away his shame, and he would make all those who dared to disobey him pay the price.

An old soldier who had served in the Black Guard roared and waved his halberd to stab the mad mercenary. The mercenary's fighting skills were worthy of ridicule in his eyes. The halberd split the mercenary's weapon handle and cut the mercenary's iconic Karonde Karl costume.

The injured mercenary screamed, and blood gushed out from the wound of the broken arm. The old soldier who fought with the Black Guard roared, and he from the Nagor kicked the crippled mercenary who could no longer hold a weapon to the ground.

The fallen mercenary tripped the mercenary who was about to rush up behind him. The small assault formation composed of the Black Guard and the Dread Spearman bypassed the two fallen mercenaries and continued to fight. The Black Sharp Crossbowman following behind them approached the crossbow and shot, first killing the fallen mercenary, and then the disabled mercenary.

The Black Sharp Crossbowman who finished shooting laughed wildly. He was from Nagarond and had all five fingers on his right hand broken. He could no longer pick up a weapon. Now...

The crazy Hadris fought and showed deadly swordsmanship. His blade crippled the mercenary, who screamed and fell to the ground. With bloodshot eyes, he roared and roared, executing his terrible art with mechanical ruthlessness and precision. Even if a mercenary luckily cut his leg, he did not cry out in pain, but directly slashed the attacker's throat with a backhand swing.

Suddenly, the whole earth shook, and a strong tremor appeared under the feet of the Duruchi. A large number of Duruchi in battle fell to the ground due to the sudden tremor.

A bright light flashed in the sky, blinding him and causing him to stumble back. Just as he was backing away, a mercenary in the backlight flew over and raised his double blades high. He raised his long sword high to block the enemy who was flying towards him. The magic long sword pierced the mercenary's breastplate and back ribs.

"Leave..." The mercenary spat out blood and pushed himself towards the inserted blade, trying to cut Hadris's neck with his sword.

The bright light flashed, and Hadris, whose vision returned to normal, looked at Duruchi hanging on the sword. He knew this Duruchi. An excellent captain from Caronde Carr, a mercenary with excellent skills in all aspects. The two of them have been working together for nearly a century, and have experienced many life-and-death battles together. Four days ago, they were sitting in the Mask Palace eating Asheril's delicacies and toasting to feast.

There was no fluctuation in his bloodshot eyes, let alone the sorrow of killing his friend. He didn't wait for the captain to finish, and the sword turned and split the captain in half, and the body rolled on the blood-stained ground.

Seeing the captain being killed, the remaining mercenaries who followed the captain did not flee as usual. They were still attacking frantically, fighting each other, trying to chop down everything that could move in front of them.

"Speed ​​up!" Hadris roared angrily after chopping down another mercenary.

The mercenary looked at the hilt protruding from his chest, frowned, opened his mouth wide, and wanted to say something, but couldn't say it. As Locksia rotated the hilt, his eyes turned white and he fell to the ground.

The death of the mercenary did not dispel the idea of ​​attacking his companions. The companion standing on the left of the mercenary was still waving the sharp blade in his hand, but at the moment he opened his mouth, a crossbow arrow shot into his mouth and pierced his back of the head. He fell to the ground, and blood spurted out of his mouth in a red arc.

The enemies that Loxia faced were stronger than those that Hadris faced. These enemies were organized. They quickly formed a formation at the first time of the camp bombing and prepared to break out. After the breakout failed and was pushed back to the camp, they filled the width of the camp entrance, not giving the opponent any chance to outflank, while they were fighting hard and making the last struggle.

But it was useless. The front row of mercenaries blocking the entrance were still shouting loudly and fighting hard. The mercenaries in the back row began to turn around and run away, but it was useless. The Reaper Crossbow that Dorien had drawn was already in place. The split arrows fired from the crossbow knocked down a large number of mercenaries who tried to escape.

Loxia faced the enemy in front of him, and his eyes behind the mask were as sharp as an eagle. The enemy's face was covered with hideous scars, and his shaved head glowed ominously in the gloomy light.

The tamer held a multi-headed whip in one hand and a blood-stained dagger in the other. His muscles were tense with anger, and his eyes were burning with crazy fire.

Loxia recognized the enemy in front of him. This old acquaintance who had come from his hometown with him, who once controlled the most ferocious beasts, was now alone and no longer a beast.

The tamer let out a low roar and swung the multi-headed whip over his head. Each band of the whip was inlaid with sharp curved teeth like blades. Those curved teeth were like the sharp teeth of wild beasts, flashing a cold light. The whip drew a fierce arc in the air and pounced on Loxia like a heavy net.

A sneer flashed across Loxia's mouth, and the sword in his left hand quickly drew a large arc. The blade collided with the whip, making a harsh metal collision sound. His sword blocked the whip with deadly fangs. But the tamer did not give up. The whip was alive in his hands, spinning nimbly, trying to entangle Loxia's arm and restrain him.

Feeling the threat of the whip, Loxia reacted quickly, leaping up and twisting his body gracefully in the air like a swift bird of prey. His heel hit the tamer's chest with such force that the tamer stumbled back and almost fell to the ground. After landing, he drove the blade straight into the tamer's thigh, the blade piercing muscle and bone, bringing a pool of blood. The tamer gasped in pain, but his madness did not weaken, but became more intense.

The tamer swung the multi-headed whip again, this time hitting Loxia's left arm with a force that tore through the air, and the fangs on the whip tried to tear through his armor and tear open his flesh. However, his armor was forged from hard keith steel, and the tamer's whip, despite its ferocity, failed to penetrate this solid protection. The curved fangs could only leave a few scratches on his armor, but failed to cause any real damage.

Without hesitation, Loccia grabbed the tamer's whip with his backhand and pulled it with all his strength. The tamer, whose leg was injured, was pulled off balance by this huge force, and his body fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud. A flash of cold light flashed in his eyes, and he grasped the hilt of the sword with his backhand and stabbed the sword into the tamer's back without hesitation.

The blade pierced the tamer's flesh and directly pierced his heart. His blood-red eyes widened, full of disbelief and pain. He opened his mouth slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he could only utter a low mutter, and the sound gradually weakened in his throat. His body trembled slightly under the sword, and then gradually stopped struggling. His eyes were fixed on the cloudy sky. As he exhaled his last breath, the light of life was completely extinguished in his eyes.

After dealing with the tamer in front of him, Loccia looked up at the sky. He knew that a new round was about to begin. He pulled the net wrapped around his arm, freeing his arm from the restraint. When he stood up again, he looked around. His followers and family guards had dealt with the enemies around him and were pulling out their weapons from the pool of blood.

There were not many enemies resisting. A female mercenary used a combination of stabbing and kicking to force back a dark swordsman, and turned to run away, but she was shot to the ground before she ran a few steps. She fell to the ground twitching, wailing, and screaming.

A Duruchi who had gone crazy in the battle jumped on the mercenary and strangled the mercenary's throat with his arm. Even though the mercenary kept stabbing his ribs with a dagger, he stubbornly persisted.

Loxia smiled bitterly, walked over, and kicked Duruchi in the groin with his boot. He ignored Duruchi who fell to the ground, groaning in pain and curled up. He kicked the dagger in the mercenary's hand away.

At this moment, he looked at the mercenary's face and suddenly thought of something. He had seen this mercenary before, during the Battle of Gorond. This mercenary and a group of mercenaries were avoiding fighting and playing dice. He was the one who promised and recruited them, and then he did it until today.

Behind the mask, he looked at the mercenaries who looked at him indifferently, then he raised his head to look at the sky, and then turned and left. For a moment, he even wanted to take off the mask on his face and return it to Dacus. The cost of wearing this mask on his face was too high, but he had no choice. He had already put it on, and he could only keep going.

Dorian, who did not participate in the battle, also smiled bitterly. He knew that Loccia and Hadris were staunch supporters of Dacus for various reasons like him, but he also knew that those mercenaries and pirates were not.

Although he had little combat experience, he was studious. After the Battle of Gorond, he had been studying and researching everything that happened during the Battle of Gorond. He knew that those mercenaries and pirates were unreliable and could only fight downwind battles and defensive battles, but could not fight such a hard battle that required huge psychological pressure. The enemy he faced this time was far more difficult than the Battle of Gorond.

Under such huge psychological pressure, collapse was sooner or later. He was ready to blow up the camp. He believed that the camp bombing was inevitable. Those mercenaries and pirates who were originally prepared to take advantage would definitely seek opportunities to escape, but he did not expect it to come so quickly. It was only the fourth day.

He looked at the lizardmen war group around him who were ready to go. He didn't know what to say. If he wanted, he hoped that all his soldiers would be these disciplined and combat-conscious lizardmen. But he also knew that this was impossible. Only in a few cases could he, Valahal of Asheril, command the lizardmen to fight, just like now.

"It's all been solved. They need a short rest." Buckron, holding a bloody sword, came over and said in a deep voice.

"Ms. Viena, everything is still the same as yesterday." Dorian nodded first, and then said to Ms. Viena, who had not been involved in the battle just now. His order was vague and very unclear, but he knew that his former superior knew what to do.

He also knew that his old superior would be reused after Dacus returned and become a fear lord again, a fear lord who could lead a legion, not a fear lord like before.

"As you command." Viena saluted solemnly and left.

"Blow the horn!"

As the horn sounded, the behemoth moved, Umaq's guards moved, and Asheril's garrison moved.

——

The Blood God Khorne released his fury on the brass throne. Below the throne was a mountaintop made of skulls. These skulls came from the great warriors slaughtered by his followers over countless epochs. He only wanted blood to splash in his name, but he didn't care where the blood came from.

The rage broke out silently, and the sky suddenly became dark. Thick dark clouds covered the entire realm, as if foreshadowing the bloody frenzy that was about to come. It began to rain from the sky, but this was not ordinary rain, but rain with blood, sticky and scarlet, born from the anger of Khorne.

The red rain had a sticky texture, like a fusion of some blood and turbid liquid, dripping on Zahuitak and the surrounding rainforest. The raindrops falling on the ground made a dull sound, as if some ancient and evil ritual was being performed. The blood rain gathered into small streams, flowing down from the top of the ruins, dyeing the ruins red, dyeing the entire ground red, as if the earth was crying for the anger of Khorne.

Inside Zahvitak, red, black, and bronze armor gleamed in the sultry morning shrouded in heat. Row after row of Khorne's servants appeared in the Middle Ages, in the mysterious land of Lustria, in Zahvitak's city center square. They formed a huge hollow circle around a pile of huge bones.

To the north, the stone pyramid where Lord Zul once lived turned into gray bones, full of horror and blasphemy, and behind the pyramid was a huge abyss that cut Zahvitak off from the rainforest. On the other three sides, the hillside sloped gently upward and extended to the rainforest.

A wide road paved with skulls, like a bloody vein leading to the abyss, ran through the center of the city and extended to the rainforest in the south. Each skull told a story. They were once trophies in the hands of Khorne's servants, the remains of countless slaughtered warriors, fighters, and innocents. Every step on this road is on the broken bones, accompanied by a faint creaking sound, like the last wail of those trampled lives after death.

The trampled broken soil and dark bloody stains silently bear witness to the large-scale battle that took place here a few days ago. It was a sacrifice of blood and flesh, a gift offered by the servants of Khorne to please their master. Now, this road is empty, but it is still full of the breath of death, because in the next moment more blood will be spilled on this road paved with skulls.

All the servants of Khorne present are eager to slaughter, eager to fill this road with more flesh and blood, but now everything is still. Their eyes are staring at the square made of brass and skulls in front of them. This open space is like a sacred skull altar, symbolizing the supreme glory of Khorne. Each skull is carefully placed, and each piece of brass is polished to a gleaming shine, calling for more lives to sacrifice here.

The rain became more and more violent, and the sticky blood rain poured down from the sky like a waterfall, soaking the earth and dyeing every stone and every skull red. The servants felt the awakening of the power from their master and could no longer maintain their irrepressible silence. They began to laugh wildly in the blood rain, and their laughter was mixed with anger and fanaticism. Their bodies were soaked in blood, and the blood rain left deep red marks on their armor and skin, blending into this bloody world.

As the blood rain fell, the servants' laughter became wilder, and their might and arrogance grew, all of which foreshadowed the coming destruction and chaos. They were no longer silent hunters, but transformed into furious demons, proclaiming Khorne's boundless anger and destructive power.

The air was filled with the smell of blood, and every drop of rain seemed to be calling for more slaughter and sacrifice, while these servants were ready to go in this endless blood rain, ready to turn this land into a complete purgatory.

The servants of Khorne moved, and at the forefront of the demon army was Cerberus... No, it was Karanak, known as the "Hound of Vengeance", "Endless Hunter" and "Claw of the Skull Throne", a three-headed demonic flesh hound.

It is said that no matter whether it is a mortal or a demon, as long as it arouses the wrath of the Blood God, it will rise from the skull and blow a loud note with a large brass trumpet. The deafening echoes will explode across the mortal realm and the fiends, like an ominous thunder, awakening the dormant fleshhounds and commanding them to hunt.

Few can survive the bloody pursuit of these ruthless predators, for the fleshhounds are impeccable hunters, and they will never lose the scent of their prey in swamps, forests, and stone plains.

Now, the snarling, howling fleshhounds with red scales and scorpion tails, the most important instruments of Khorne's vengeance, are following Karanak closely. The ground cracks and bubbles as they pass, and they corrode the soil they tread.

Behind them are endless seas of red, furious and thirsty for blood, just as Khorne has come. They are fierce and deadly, they are bloodletters who hold a high position among the mortal worshippers of the Blood God, and they advance under the leadership of skull reavers and blood reapers. They followed their leader, howling in defiance in the rain, swearing to the Lord of War to kill everything they met in the name of Khorne.

The earth was shaking, thousands of claws and hooves marched in unison to the infernal drumbeat, blood-dripping bone standards rose from the carmine ranks, tattered banners and skull-adorned blood-god icons pointed to the sky, brass horns blew the glorious march, their voices cut through the air like a grindstone screaming on a blade.

Row after row of blood-crushers marched shoulder to shoulder, staring with scarlet eyes. They were the most respected bloodletters before, and now they have been promoted to blood-crushers. They are the shock cavalry that Khorne is proud of. They are proficient in combat skills and the unstoppable iron bulls that charge forward, making them extremely deadly. When they charge into the battlefield, they will flatten everything and grind the enemy into powder.

But soon, the offensive formation of the Khorne army was disrupted again, just like the previous few days, and it was repeated again... (End of this chapter)