As he pondered, a sudden cold touch pressed against his stomach.
"Hiss…"
Rega shivered from the chill.
Looking down, he found the culprit gazing at him innocently.
Helena was resting her head on his lap, her chubby little hand sneaking mischievously under his shirt.
He was only wearing a white dress shirt, with a few buttons left undone, allowing her to slip her hand inside.
"Helena, who told you to touch me like that?" Rega frowned.
"Big Brother~"
Helena put on an innocent expression, trying to get away with it.
"Take your hand out!"
Rega wasn't having it. He grabbed her soft, pale ear and lifted her up.
Helena winced, quickly pulling back her little hand and reluctantly sitting up.
Rega shot her a displeased glance as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.
The third drawback of Catching the Moon in Hand was that immersive viewing dulled some of his senses, making him more vulnerable to sneak attacks.
"Brother, Sister told me to come get you."
Helena lowered her head, her pleated skirt pressing against the grass, revealing her fair calves.
Rega gave her a death glare, remaining silent.
Just now, as her little hand withdrew, she had taken the opportunity to pinch him.
Helena stole a glance up at him, her large, light purple eyes shimmering mischievously.
Smack—
Rega flicked her forehead, scolding, "Focus on the right things."
Helena winced, rubbing her reddened forehead without a word.
Rega ignored her, putting away the transparent glass candle before standing up and scanning his surroundings.
Not far away, a simple tent was engulfed in roaring flames, burning alongside a campfire.
Rega's mouth twitched as he muttered, "How ruthless."
Helena got up using both hands and feet, mumbling, "Sister told me to burn it. She said camping should have a time limit."
Rega sighed helplessly, accepting the "gift" from the two sisters.
"Hiss-gaaah—!"
Suddenly, a deep, thunderous dragon roar erupted, brimming with the excitement of newfound power.
Boom—
In an instant, ghostly green dragon flames burst into the sky like a tidal wave, surging upward with volcanic force. The surrounding air became scorching hot, like boiling water.
Rega quickly turned around, pulling Helena back.
At the cliff's edge, a massive pitch-black dragon let out a sky-shaking roar, its broad wings pressing against the ground while spectral green flames spewed from its abyssal maw.
The flames poured endlessly, cascading like lava onto the beach below, instantly fusing with the sand and igniting an inferno of green fire.
"Glutton!!"
Rega's breath hitched as he called out excitedly.
"Roooaaar…!"
Glutton let out a fierce cry, spreading its dark wings wide. Its razor-sharp hind claws took two powerful strides before its colossal body soared into the air.
Diving headfirst into the surging green flames, Glutton's emerald pupils gleamed with wild intensity as it shot straight up into the thick clouds.
The next moment—
Boom—
Brilliant bursts of ghostly green light exploded in the sky. The dense clouds, as if struck by a tempest, were blasted apart, revealing a clear sky.
"Brother."
Helena whispered, wrapping her arms around Rega's waist as she gazed up in awe.
"Don't worry, it's celebrating," Rega reassured her, his voice firm and full of joy.
He knew exactly what had happened to Glutton.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the ancient bronze statue of the Holy Mother standing tall on the grass. Smiling, he pulled up his Explorer's Panel.
[Ancient Bronze Statue of the Holy Mother]
Exploration Progress: 100%
"Exploration complete. Please retrieve the lost treasure."
"Retrieval successful. Analyzing…"
"Analysis complete. Identified as an Epic Relic: The Holy Mother's Blessing."
A pink floral wreath appeared on the panel, along with the relic's activation requirement:
"Unwavering Will."
Since Rega had no immediate need for it, he chose to use it on Glutton instead.
Having let the Mist Sea Wild Dragon escape, Glutton had been brooding over its failed hunt, triggering the relic's effect.
"Congratulations! The Holy Mother's Blessing has been activated. You have obtained..."
[Resilience]
Quality: Legendary (Orange) Effect:"The strength of resilience extends not only to the mind but also to the body." Evaluation:"A subtle but profound change."
"Hiss-gaaah!!"
Up in the sky, Glutton performed an agile midair roll, beating its wings furiously as it unleashed a torrent of green dragon flames.
As the flames coalesced into a massive emerald sun, the dragon plunged straight into it.
Boom—
Glutton tore through the raging inferno, its jet-black scales gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen.
Just a few days ago, the scales on its neck, chest, and belly had been shattered. Now, they had regrown, replacing the damaged ones.
At this very moment, every drop of its dragon blood boiled, strengthening and thickening its scales.
From the cliffside, Rega gazed at Glutton, faintly sensing the dragon's exhilaration. Their minds connected, sharing their emotions.
"Hiss-gaaah…"
Glutton turned its massive head, diving down and beating its wings to land steadily on the cliff's edge.
Its glowing green eyes locked onto its rider with an untamed intensity.
"Helena, return to the castle first."
Rhaegar's eyes flashed as he broke free from the little girl's embrace and rushed to the side of the pitch-black dragon.
Swiftly climbing onto the dragon's back, he settled into the saddle and shouted excitedly, "Glutton, take flight!!"
"Screeeech..."
With a thunderous roar, Glutton flapped its wings and soared into the sky, then dived toward the ocean once more. Its dark chest sliced through the calm sea surface.
"Hahaha! You've gotten even faster!"
Rhaegar laughed joyfully, releasing his grip on the reins to fully embrace the exhilarating weightlessness of flight and the rush of sea wind against his face.
The Blessing of the Holy Mother had not gone to waste.
Following the Essence of Life, Glutton had received yet another enhancement.
This time, it strengthened its scales.
"Screeeech..."
Glutton unleashed a stream of eerie green dragonfire, slicing through the air as it swiftly flapped its wings and surged toward the vast Throat.
From its perspective, the failed hunt was due to its scales not being tough enough—its left wing had been wounded by a Sea Wyvern's bite.
But now, its scales had evolved.
For a long while, dragon and rider soared over the Throat's waters before returning to Dragonstone just before noon.
Boom—
Glutton's black wings beat steadily as its massive frame landed on the cliffside grassland. The dragon crouched low, its body heaving with exhaustion.
Rhaegar slid off its back and quickly stepped toward its head.
Huff! Huff!
Glutton lay flat on the grass, panting heavily like a broken bellows, thick drool dripping uncontrollably from its maw.
It was starving—desperately hungry!
It craved fresh, magically infused flesh to replenish the life energy it had consumed during its transformation.
Sensing the dragon's thoughts, Rhaegar stroked its chin and murmured, "Glutton, hold on for now. I know where to find the nourishment you need."
Wyverns were still dragons.
Even though they couldn't breathe dragonfire, their lifeforms had surpassed that of ordinary beasts, making them a type of lesser magical creature.
Ensuring Glutton's successful transformation was worth a trip to Sothoryos.
"Roar..."
Glutton rumbled from its throat, as though drained from breathing dragonfire earlier. It rested weakly, pretending to nap.
Its transformation was complete—it needed to restore its energy.
But on Dragonstone, aside from its fellow dragons, there was nothing suitable to replenish its strength.
After calming the dragon, Rhaegar returned to the Stone Drum Tower.
Before leaving, he instructed the patrolling Dragonkeepers to bring Glutton a herd of cattle and sheep to satisfy its hunger.
Stone Drum Tower – War Table Hall
This chamber was located on the top floor of the Stone Drum Tower. It was circular, with a tall, narrow window on each of its four sides—east, west, north, and south.
At the center stood the Dragonstone War Table.
The table was fifty feet long, with its widest point reaching half that length, occupying one-fifth of the hall's space.
Carved onto its surface was an intricately detailed map of Westeros, with every mountain and river sculpted with masterful precision—an exact replica of the continent.
It had been created by Aegon the Conqueror, who had flown across Westeros atop Balerion the Black Dread, carefully charting every detail before commissioning this grand topographical masterpiece.
"Daemon, I have already agreed to an alliance with Pentos. That should satisfy you!"
Viserys' voice was laced with suppressed anger.
He sat at one end of the War Table, gripping a dragon-carved stone in his hand, his expression dark and brooding.
Daemon lounged on the opposite side, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked as he argued, "War with the Triarchy is inevitable. You should understand the advantage of striking first."
"I will not say it a third time. I will not allow you to start a war for your own ambitions!"
Viserys' glare was furious, his voice sharp.
War would push the kingdom into ruin.
Daemon and Corlys Velaryon would drag House Targaryen into the abyss.
Daemon remained unfazed, tirelessly trying to persuade him. "Triarchy patrol ships have been spotted near the Stepstones. They're already preparing for war."
"And so what?!"
Viserys slammed the table, unable to contain his fury. "If war breaks out and the entire kingdom fights the Triarchy, and by some miracle we win, am I supposed to grant you Lys as your personal fiefdom?!"
"What about Myr and Tyrosh? Should I give those to Corlys and Rhaenys as well, letting you all break away from the Iron Throne to rule as kings in your own right?!"
He still remembered vividly how Daemon and Corlys had secretly waged the First Stepstones War behind his back.
And when they won, Daemon had crowned himself King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, wearing a makeshift driftwood crown.
Had the Stepstones not been too barren to sustain him, Daemon would never have returned to King's Landing to submit.
Daemon's eyes darkened, and he fell silent for a moment.
Meanwhile.
Rhaegar ascended to the top floor, motioning for Erryk and Arryk Cargyll—the guards outside the War Table Hall—to stay quiet as he listened in on the argument inside.
The moment he returned to the Stone Drum Tower, he had heard that his father and uncle were having a private discussion, and he followed the scent of trouble straight here.
Inside, the room suddenly fell into silence.
Rhaegar's eyes flickered as he scanned the stone-hewn corridors of Dragonstone, debating whether to enter and assess the situation.
Truthfully, he did not support invading the Triarchy—especially not to carve out territory for Daemon.
"Your Highness! Urgent news from Volantis!"
Tormund approached in a hurry, his expression tense. The white hawk and raven that usually perched on his shoulders were absent, and he clutched a letter tightly.
Rhaegar abruptly turned, sensing the urgency, and took the letter to read.
It was from Syrio, sent via a fast-traveling raven.
The opening lines were hastily written, going straight to the critical point.
"The Sea Wyvern has been caught in a trap and captured. It is now in the hands of Lyseni Governor Banroba Bazayn."
The moment Rhaegar finished reading, he fell silent.
His gaze froze, as still and lifeless as a dead sea.
Taking a deep breath, he forcibly suppressed the emotions surging in his chest.
Without another word, he pushed past the Cargyll brothers and stormed into the War Table Hall.
Inside, Viserys and Daemon sat across from each other, the tension between them suffocating.
Rhaegar's forceful entrance immediately drew their attention.
"Rhaegar…"
Viserys frowned at his son's abrupt interruption.
Daemon's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing his nephew.
But Rhaegar completely ignored their reactions. His expression was as cold as the dead of winter.
Bang!
He slapped the letter onto the War Table, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes.
Then, in a voice as chilling as a blade, he declared:
"No more arguing. Prepare for war!"
(End of Chapter)