Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

"What do you mean?" Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked at the blade of reality that fell in the gap.

"We... even the gods are slaves to fate, my friend. Take this city for example, it was once a temple dedicated to a god without a name.

Talking more broadly, these realms are full of forgotten gods, and these realms gave birth to thousands of gods. The power of destruction is only the most powerful among them, and the four gods of chaos are the most powerful of all gods, islands in the sea of ​​madness.

I arranged the chess pieces because I knew how the game would go. Chaos became my shield, my amulet, do you understand?" Zuvas said, pointing to the surrounding environment.

"What do you want?"

"You are special, you are different from others, you caught something you can't imagine... the skin? You saw the essence of the cage."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Yeah, you won't, look around, is there anything familiar?" Zuvas took a step towards Ryan, and Ryan took a step back.

As before, Ryan's reflection, because there were many, stretched into various possibilities, all of which faced Zuvas. Some were terrible, some were more heroic than he had imagined. But somehow, the Zuvas in front of him did not change. Perhaps Zuvas was a fixed point, and no matter how the winds of fate blew, something inevitable would happen, and this thought made him shudder.

"What is this place?"

"Don't you remember? The city was moving, and it's moving now, isn't it?" Zuvas leaned against a pillar, his hands crossed, with a mocking casual look. He stretched out his arms and knocked on the pillar, pointing to Ryan's chest at the end, "Like fragments on the water, it gathers and splits, but always moves. It wants you to be here, so you are here, we are here, as certain as fate, just so certain."

Ryan looked down, and at some point, the amulet he stepped on after being teleported appeared in front of him, suspended in the air. A brass amulet, one twisted into an incomplete but somehow double-ended shape, like a broken smile.

"Or rather, have you ever asked yourself how it got here? Who left it there? If we go looking, I wonder... will we find it? Waiting for you to pick it up sometime in the future? Or in the past? After all... it's hard to tell which is which in this place."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, it's hard for me to remember, being here is like being pushed into every memory at once. They ebb and flow like the tide, changing day by day. These are not questions you should be asking, nor are they questions I should be telling, my friend, sorry." Zuvas sighed.

"Do you know what hell is? Monotony, endless cycles, endless repetition. This is this place, a damned prison of souls, where they forever eat each other!" Before Ren could react, Zuvas pounced, grabbed Ren's throat with his fingers, lifted Ren, and pushed Ren to the edge of the pillar.

"But even the strongest prison wall can collapse with a crack in the right place! Just like this... such a small thing, a talisman, only it doesn't bring luck, does it?" Zuvas held back the constantly resisting Ren, he grabbed Ren's wrist and squeezed, whispering.

"I'm talking to you, which means I won't kill you." Zuvas took a step back and let Ren go.

"Why... don't you kill me?" Ren leaned against the pillar, coughing into his throat, his eyes glanced at his sword, with a thrust and a little luck, he might be able to get the blade of reality.

"You can't get it."

"What do you want?" Ren froze, his pride didn't want him to admit it, but Zuvas was telling the truth, he closed his eyes.

"I want what you want." Zuvas picked up the amulet and walked towards the location of the Reality Blade. He hooked the hilt with his toes. When the Reality Blade was free falling in the air, he grabbed the hilt steadily and swung it, as if testing the balance of the blade. He swung the sword in an almost familiar posture.

Then, under Ren's gaze, he continued to swing it. His movements were fast and smooth, as if the Reality Blade belonged to him. The blade drew silver arcs in the air. Each swing was extremely precise. The sound of the blade breaking through the air echoed in the air with a cold sharpness. His wrist turned lightly, and the Reality Blade danced with his thoughts, as if it was an extension of him, not an external object.

Each slash showed unparalleled power and speed. The blade was like an unstoppable lightning, cutting the surrounding air. He kept speeding up the rhythm while swinging, and the sharp sword wind formed a violent vortex around him, as if everything was involved in it. Every movement he made was seamless and every angle was carefully calculated, so precise that it was hard to believe that this was a weapon he had just obtained.

Ryan stood aside, his eyes fixed on Zuvas's movements, with a complex feeling in his heart. This sword was a weapon he cherished very much, and at this moment in Zuvas's hands, it seemed so natural, as if the Blade of Reality had finally found its true master. That natural control, that impeccable proficiency, as if there was some unfathomable connection between Zuvas and the Blade of Reality, made him suddenly realize something, countless fragments had some kind of connection.

With Zuvas's last swing, the Blade of Reality stagnated in the air, the tip of the sword drooped slightly, as if waiting for the next fatal blow. He slowly retracted the sword, stared at Ryan coldly, and then, he threw the Blade of Reality to Ryan.

"Now, there is still some time, let's start." After Ryan caught the Blade of Reality steadily, Zuvas pulled out his broken sword, the blade was full of gaps, and it looked sharp, but his posture of holding the sword was still as steady as a rock.

As the voice fell, Zuvas swung the sword at Ryan.

Ryan reacted quickly and blocked the attack with the blade of reality. However, Zuvas's strength was beyond his expectation. The huge impact made him step back a few steps, and his arm felt a sense of oppression.

"Don't just think about defense!" Zuvas's voice revealed calmness, and then he suddenly exerted force and hit several moves in a row, each sword directly hitting Ryan's vitals.

Ryan tried to fight back, but Zuvas's broken sword always blocked his attack at the critical moment. Even in every confrontation, Zuvas would intentionally or unintentionally lead the sword to Ryan's flaws. Zuvas's movements were smooth and swift, as if weaving an invisible net, gradually forcing him into it.

"Your movements are too stiff, you must learn to relax! The speed and strength of the sword must follow your heart!" Zuvas instructed Ryan while fighting. His tone was not harsh, but every word accurately hit Ryan's weaknesses.

Ryan tried to adjust his pace and sword momentum, but every time he changed, Zuvas would quickly adjust the rhythm and force him to adapt to the new pressure. In every confrontation, he could feel that he was making rapid progress, but the price of this progress was that he was beaten harder every time, and there were even a few times when he was almost forced into a desperate situation.

"Faster, don't let thinking drag down your actions!"

The Blade of Reality gradually became lighter in Ryan's hands, and his movements became more and more coherent. Several counterattacks in danger even made Zuvas look sideways. He no longer adhered to the rules and began to respond to Zuvas's attacks with intuition and instinct. Every blow was on the edge of the sword, and his swordsmanship gradually became sharp and precise, no longer as stiff as at the beginning.

Finally, in a fierce attack, Ryan caught Zuvas's flaw and pointed the Blade of Reality directly at his opponent's chest. However, Zuvas gently flicked the broken sword in his hand to dissolve his sword momentum, and at the same time, the hilt turned and touched his shoulder.

"Not fast enough, now, let's get out of here, my friend." Zuvas retracted the broken sword and said calmly.

Ryan looked at Zuvas's back, then looked at the blade of reality in his hand. In the end, he chose to put away the sword and silently followed Zuvas's pace. While walking, he could hear the sound of drums coming from somewhere, and the screams of monsters in the ruins. The city moved as if holding its breath.

"Strange, why would I believe you, who are you?"

"Yes, you shouldn't, but you want to believe, the only important fact is that you want to believe. Listen, if you listen carefully, you can hear the alleys devouring each other."

"Why tell me this? Or why did you do this?"

"I told you that you are important, you are the crack that makes everything collapse." Zuvas turned around and stared at Ryan.

"What do I need to do?" Ryan looked away, avoiding Zuvas's gaze, and the thoughts in his mind moved like broken glass, piercing deeply into his body, tearing holes one by one, letting new light in. After a long moment, he spoke.

"A century ago? But it feels like only... a few days? Someone must have opened the way from the other side." Zuvas nodded.

There was another moment of silence, and soon, Ryan and his new friend arrived at their destination.

"As I said before, a key, or a map?" Zuvas said as he dragged something out and threw it on the ground.

Ryan realized that it was a sarcophagus, just like the ones he had seen in other parts of the city, except that this one was made of a solid piece of glass. He could see a shrunken mummy inside, which reminded him of the invisible things he had encountered in the sewers.

"Stand back, there are always traps in places like this." Zuvas squatted beside the sarcophagus and slid his fingers along the sides of the coffin.

There was a sound like glass falling, and the sarcophagus suddenly cracked with several tiny cracks. He put his fingers into the gap and opened it easily, and a colorless steam floated out. Soon, the owner of the sarcophagus was revealed.

"Moskai?" Ryan could see the faded tattoos from the corpse's bald head to the remains under the robe, and more tattoos covered his hands, which were tightly clenched on the hilt of the bronze sword, which was across his sunken chest. He muttered to himself and answered his own questions.

"A sword slave, these tattoos are a mark of sale." Zuvas reached for the skull and heard a slight sound.

Ryan saw the dead man's fingers move and tightly grasp the hilt.

"Catch it." Zuvas grabbed the skull and twisted it off directly. He threw the skull to Ryan.

When Ryan caught the skull steadily, the headless corpse sat up and raised his sword at the same time. Zuvas stepped back and drew his broken sword.

The corpse stood up and swung the sword with surprising elegance. But Zuvas was stronger, or more skilled. He easily blocked the blow, and then used an ordinary slash to cut off one of the corpse's arms, and the second slash split its spine in half. The corpse continued to twist and tried to raise the sword, but he stepped on the shoulder joint. Then he reached out and pulled off the remaining arm, threw it casually on the ground, and turned around.

"What is that?" Ryan, who was watching closely, suddenly saw something running out of the shadows. He looked over and saw a scaly thing sliding away and disappearing.

"Don't worry, you come, or me? Forget it, I'll do it." Zuvas said at the end, stretched out his hand, and motioned Ryan to throw the skull over.

"The traditions and customs of each place are different. Here, when the slaves are first purchased, their tongues must be cut off. The masters here like to use jewelry or gold replicas to replace the tongue. Sometimes... it is a very good hiding place. After all, who can think of a very important thing in the mouth of a slave?" He caught the skull and lifted it up, pulling off the jaw of the skull. When he held the jaw in his hand, he threw the skull on the ground casually like garbage.

"I have to say, this is a very good idea."

Zuvas nodded in agreement, and the hand holding the tongue kept rubbing, and soon, a strange artifact was revealed. He lifted the artifact up and observed it carefully.

The artifact was both round and rectangular, like several shapes trying to occupy the same space. This reminded Ryan of the scene he saw on the street, the intertwined arches and steps.

"The city mirror map drawn by Moska." Zuvas whispered, then looked at Ryan and asked, "Don't you have anything to ask?"

"No, because I know you will tell me even if I don't ask." Ryan shook his head in response.

"Calling it a mirror simplifies extremely complex things. This city is a maze of the soul and a fortress of the spirit."

"Mirror... map? Shows how to leave the city?"

"No, someone needs to read it. It shows how to repair the city." Zuvas held the artifact high and turned it so that its impossible curves caught the light.

"Is that what you want to do? Fix it?"

"A perfect prison, inviolable, unbreakable. Various forces rampage inside, killing each other. Their blood waters the city's stones, and the city greedily licks this nourishment. Like a vampire, the city is dead, but not dead, it sleeps in the shadows, grows, and waits for a moment.

Well, that's the question, isn't it? What will become of this city? It's not a key, but it can help us make a key, you understand? If the key is made, what will happen? What will appear in this place? A hundred million imprisoned souls? Or will something worse happen? Will something pass through every shard of glass and reach a farther realm? A city, or a newborn god?" Zuvas laughed, his voice harsh and hollow.

"So, is this the god you serve? Something that doesn't exist?" Ryan stared at Zuvas, he felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature, he asked softly.

"Perhaps, or perhaps it is something that has always existed. The power of destruction is beyond our perception, my friend.

They are children who have always existed but have not yet been born, who destroy themselves every evening prayer and recreate themselves in the light of dawn. They shrink for centuries and then expand again, like a newly ignited spark.

Now, get it into the right hands so that things can continue." Zuvas said, no longer admiring the artifact, he stretched out his hand and handed the artifact to Ryan.

"If you are going to give it away, why bother to retrieve something like this?" Ryan asked, holding the artifact in his hand.

"Because this is how to put the puzzle together, one piece at a time."

"It's you, you planned this, right?" Ryan said as he took a few steps back, as if he already knew how things would end. Various possibilities emerged in his mind, but none of them were pleasant. He fell into the trap that he had been trapped in since he came to this city.

"You know why I need you here, Ryan, you are part of the cycle, you are the singularity! You don't know how long I have waited, how many times I have strayed from my path, looking for the right path. Now, finally, I have found it? Everything is taken for granted?" Zuvas said softly, taking out the amulet from his armor, which flashed coldly in the strange light.

"What about me? Where do I belong?"

"You will get the answer, time is running out, now, let's get out of here."

Ryan and his new friend set out on the road back. They walked in the corridor, and the light around them flickered, as if the ancient building was also responding to their footsteps. He silently pondered what Zuvas had just said, his mind full of doubts and uneasiness.

"Did you bring cigarettes?" At this moment, Zuvas suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked at Ryan.

Ryan was stunned for a moment. Zuvas asked a question, but his tone seemed very certain. He touched the pocket hanging on his waist, took out a pipe from it, and handed it to Zuvas.

"You come." Zuvas said, making a gesture of refusal.

Ryan hesitated for a moment, lit the pipe, and the smoke rolled in his lungs, bringing him a feeling of relaxation.

Zuvas looked at Ryan with a look of satisfaction and intoxication in his eyes. His lungs shrank as Ryan exhaled and expanded as Ryan inhaled.

"My friend, look forward, always look forward. You will never look back on the past, look forward. Of course, if you can, don't leave that planet."

The war golem fell, and Ryan and Zuvas who came out met Dacus who was walking at the front of the team

The singularity reached the even point.

——

The shadow spire shook, broke, and spread out like a line. Glass shattered, glittering shards fell across the city, people fled, hacked to pieces by the falling debris.

As Rakesh hid in the safety of the passage, he saw a woman covered in wounds, dragging herself through the street, choking in prayer. He saw a priest gouging out his own eyes while shouting a name. He saw a soldier hacking wildly at a broken glass, something in the glass trying to pull the soldier into it.

Not wanting to hear the rumble, he clamped his hands over his ears, stepped over the dying woman, and hurried to the only place that could offer shelter. It was a temple, an ancient building, the first walls of the temple had been put up when the city was just a fence and a few buildings.

The city was ancient with legends and stories, and it was said that this might have been the final resting place of something older than the kingdom itself. A god thrown from the void, broken and forgotten.

Behind him came the sound of a mirror breaking, a lonely and painful note stretching to what seemed like endless places. Along with the howls of the dying, echoing in all directions, a group of voices wailed in sudden and sharp shock, their sanctuary taken away and plunged into darkness.

A cold, ugly light filled the street, and shadows danced in the glare, ugly and joyful. The air trembled with the echo, and the glass dust rolled and choked the street.

As he ran up the steps, he felt the shards of glass embedded in the wound, and his amulet bounced on his chest. The amulet was cold and heavy, and he grabbed it for comfort. The amulet seemed to twist in his hands, which made him feel disgusted, but it was too late now, there were only two ways before him, death and survival.

As he walked through the temple, the pillars broke and spewed dust, everything shook and scattered from the seams. Glass moved away from the wall and fell to the floor, and as the glass shattered, he heard the wails of the dead again. He could feel the fear of the people, as their paradise became hell.

Suddenly there was a louder sound, a great, continuous sound of breaking glass that echoed through the streets and filled the air with a choking smell.

He stumbled along, dodging a boulder that nearly crushed him, and as he reached the nave he tried to remember the prayer he had learned when he had acquired the amulet. An ancient prayer, most of the words meaningless, gibberish from a distant age. But he grasped at the prayer like a drowning man, words pouring out of his mouth as he struggled toward the faceless statue. He hoped that these prayers would be powerful, that they would save him, or even save the city.

As he reached out to touch the statue, to touch the god he had called but did not know the name of, he heard the pillars of the roof break and shatter. He looked up and felt a sharp pain as the huge slab of stone came crashing down, its edge catching him and pinning him to the ground. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a gasp of pain.

His hands flailed, instinct prompting him to try to drag himself out from under the stone, to escape the pain. But his body didn't respond, his legs and chest were stuck and crushed. Blood filled his lungs and dripped from his lips, mixing with his tears and snot. He was dying, and he propped himself up on his elbows, his amulet scraping on the floor with what sounded like laughter.

Amid the din of the city's death, he heard a new sound, a strange, wet, crackling sound. His eyes were drawn to a nearby shard of glass, which trembled, but in a different way than the others. As he watched, the surface of the shard bulged and rose, as if something was pushing it up from below.

Cracks appeared on the surface of the shard, emitting an ugly glow. The shard widened and peeled off, and then a hand reached out and groped blindly for a moment, finding the edge of the slab.

Despite the pain, he couldn't look away, watching the thing, or more accurately, a stranger, crawl out of the shard. It was impossible, it shouldn't be possible, but somehow, the stranger did, appeared before his eyes.

"Where is this...?" The stranger, dressed in tattered armor and a faded sky-blue cloak, slumped over the fallen stone slabs, coughing. He looked around as the ground shook and another pillar collapsed, asking hoarsely. Then he squinted his eyes and muttered to himself, "Praise Huangqi, I know this place."

Rakesh reached out and grasped the edge of the stranger's tattered cloak. The stranger looked down at him, and there seemed to be some recognition in his eyes.

"You..."

"I... I am Rakesh..."

The stranger reached out and found the amulet hanging around Rakesh's neck. He raised the amulet and seemed to admire the curves and threads of the amulet.

"Who are you?" Rakesh asked hoarsely.

"I am... Zuvas? You are always like this, you are like this every time, we are old friends, you and me, or... we will be friends." (End of this chapter)