A silver-black dragon and a crimson dragon clashed midair, their massive bodies entwined in a fierce battle. Claws tore relentlessly, shattering scales and spilling fresh blood.
"Hiss-screech…"
Korrakshu had the upper hand, its powerful jaws clamping down on its opponent's neck, drinking deeply of the gushing blood as it let out a piercing cry.
Mogul sensed the danger and tried to force Korrakshu to release its grip by unleashing a blast of dragonfire.
Boom!
Dark gray flames, like smoke and mist, scorched Korrakshu's neck, causing it to heat up rapidly. Instead of retreating, the pain only fueled its ferocity, making its bite even stronger.
Only adolescent dragons could be burned by another dragon's flames. The thickened scales of an adult dragon provided significant resistance.
Enraged, Mogul twisted its neck, attempting to bite back, but its massive jaws couldn't reach its foe.
In this close-quarters battle, Korrakshu's slender body gave it a distinct advantage.
Like a serpent, it coiled around Mogul, its small but razor-sharp claws piercing through scales, while its wings aggressively pounded against its opponent's head.
"Ha!"
Daemon scoffed, his sharp eyes locked onto the red-robed monk. His hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword.
He contemplated whether to leap from the dragon's back and drive his blade into this so-called dragonlord.
Just as his nephew had said—there was only one true dragon race in this world, and there could only be one!
"Mogul, get it together!"
The red-robed monk's voice trembled as he shouted desperately.
The process of taming Mogul had been far from conventional—issuing commands was proving an immense challenge.
"Roar!"
Mogul let out a furious bellow. In a sudden burst of strength, one of its massive claws clamped down on Korrakshu's abdomen like an iron vice and yanked forcefully.
Korrakshu was momentarily restrained but quickly adjusted, struggling to break free.
Crunch!
In the chaos, Mogul sank its fangs into one of Korrakshu's wings, its sharp teeth biting deep into flesh.
For a split second, a sickening crack rang out—it sounded like a bone snapping.
"Screech!"
Korrakshu let out a bloodcurdling scream, immediately releasing its grip. It reared its head back and snapped its jaws toward Mogul's skull.
The excruciating pain sent the bloodworm dragon into a frenzy.
Boom!
Just as its fangs were about to land, Mogul abruptly abandoned its hold on Korrakshu's wing and swung its horned head violently forward.
Korrakshu miscalculated its attack. Its vertical pupils locked onto Mogul's massive, amber eyes.
"Hiss-screech..."
A sudden realization struck—it unleashed a raging blast of crimson dragonfire.
For any dragon, the eyes remained a critical weak point.
Boom!
The flames shot forward in an instant, striking Mogul's head.
At the last possible moment, sheer survival instinct kicked in—Mogul twisted its head away, avoiding the worst of the attack. However, the crimson flames still engulfed its snout.
Mogul let out a deep, guttural growl, instinctively releasing its grip as it clawed wildly, tearing off large, bloody chunks of scales.
"Korrakshu, go for its throat!"
Realizing the battle was at a stalemate, Daemon barked the command, rising to his feet on Korrakshu's back, sword in hand.
"Hiss-screech!"
Korrakshu fought with growing intensity, the scent of blood driving its bloodlust. It ignored its injuries and pressed the attack.
In contrast, Mogul's condition was deteriorating. Its vertical pupils flickered with madness as it lashed out wildly, losing all form and technique.
The red-robed monk atop its back had become nothing more than a helpless passenger, barely managing to stay mounted—his survival was already a stroke of luck.
The two dragons, locked in a vicious struggle, plummeted from the clouds, their massive bodies crashing through the light drizzle.
Daemon gripped the saddle tightly, his cold gaze fixed on the red-robed monk.
Only one thought occupied his mind: Kill him.
The moment the idea took root, his legs tensed, ready to leap from the saddle.
"Hiss-screech!!"
Just then, another massive crimson dragon tore through the clouds at terrifying speed, unleashing a furious roar.
"Dragonfire!"
Rhaenys had arrived. Her voice rang out with commanding authority.
Meleys, her dragon, dove downward, wings slicing through the air like blades, before unleashing a torrential blaze of fire.
Boom!
The inferno engulfed Mogul's head, black smoke billowing as its scales seared.
"Roar!"
Mogul howled in agony, its mind momentarily thrown into chaos. Its enormous body flailed uncontrollably.
The red-robed monk shrieked in terror, "Mogul, retreat!"
Their plan to ambush a Targaryen dragonrider had failed. With another arriving, they had to escape—immediately.
Korrakshu seized the advantage, its jaws locking around Mogul's throat while its wings and claws latched onto its opponent's body.
Seeing this, Daemon's eyes gleamed. He calmly resettled himself in the saddle.
"Roar..."
The pain jolted Mogul back to its senses. Desperation fueled it—it spewed dragonfire directly at the bloodworm dragon's head.
Its claws also fought back, raking into Korrakshu's chest and abdomen, tearing away chunks of flesh.
Korrakshu howled in pain, but it clenched its jaws even tighter, trying to sever Mogul's neck entirely.
Yet, the next instant, a pair of claws suddenly pierced deep into its chest. Alarm bells rang in its mind.
"Korrakshu, fall back!"
Daemon's instincts flared—he immediately ordered a retreat.
There was no need for a desperate struggle when his cousin Rhaenys had arrived with her dragon.
"Hiss-screech…"
Korrakshu obeyed, releasing its grip. Its wide crimson wings braced against Mogul's body, using the force to propel itself away.
Its slender tail flicked, adjusting its posture midair, regaining stability as it descended.
Rhaenys swiftly approached, speaking rationally: "Daemon, stop the wild dragon!"
"Roar..."
Mogul let out a low growl, flapping its wings with effort to regain balance as it skimmed over the rippling sea surface in retreat.
Caraxes dove in pursuit, but one of its wings was bleeding profusely, significantly reducing its speed and agility.
"Hiss—Screech—"
Melyas surged ahead, flapping its wings and soaring a hundred meters into the sky, chasing from above.
Mogul was not slow, gradually ascending in altitude and making a sweeping arc before vanishing into a thin cloud layer.
Melyas roared and unleashed a jet of dragonfire in pursuit.
For a moment, rain fell from the sky as bursts of dragonfire exploded into plumes of smoke.
Mogul resisted fiercely, maneuvering erratically up and down without hesitation.
Having roamed the Smoke Sea for years, it had developed an elusive flying style, capable of dodging any sudden disaster.
The chase continued relentlessly, with ten minutes passing in the blink of an eye.
By the time Daemon arrived on Caraxes, Mogul had already vanished, leaving only Melyas hovering beneath the clouds.
Rhaenys' expression darkened as she stared intently ahead.
Before them lay a prosperous city hidden within the bay—Tyrosh.
Daemon surveyed the scene, a flicker of hostility crossing his stern face.
The battle had taken place too close to Tyrosh. Mogul had escaped back to the city.
Rhaenys took a deep breath, patted her dragon's back, and redirected her course toward Myr.
She patrolled the skies daily, and upon hearing the distant sounds of dragons clashing, she had rushed over.
With the tamed wild dragon now escaped, she needed to return to Myr to assist in its defense.
Daemon spoke coldly, "We must prepare for another dragon duel."
Caraxes let out an unwilling screech, its nostrils flaring as it caught the fresh scent of dragon blood, restless and reluctant to leave.
That night.
Rhaegar received two letters.
Their contents were nearly identical: [Mogul has been tamed. Its attack on Caraxes was repelled!]
Bang—
Rhaegar slammed his fist onto the war table, his face dark as coal. "We march at dawn. Lay siege to Lys!"
He had anticipated that the wild dragon might be tamed, but not so quickly.
No matter how many dragon remnants remained in Essos, their bloodline should have thinned with each passing generation.
He had underestimated them.
The Sea Snake took one of the letters and read it, his expression heavy. "Prince, since Mogul is in Tyrosh, should we send another dragon for support?"
With Tyrosh under siege but not under attack, Rhaenys would be drawn to defend Lys, leaving Daemon as the only dragonrider there.
Rhaegar shook his head. "Mogul will return to Lys. There's no need for unnecessary moves."
Although it was unclear who had tamed Mogul, the dragon had been captured by Lys.
Officially, it belonged to the Triarchy, but in reality, it was loyal only to Bambarro.
With Lys under invasion, Mogul was bound to return and defend it.
Dragonstone.
A raven crossed the Narrow Sea, flying into the maester's tower at the Stone Drum.
The elderly Maester Gladys retrieved the message, noting the red wax seal—a sigil split between a three-headed red dragon and a seahorse.
Daemon's personal insignia.
Not daring to delay, Gladys sought out Lady Laena, who had yet to retire for the night.
"Thank you, Maester."
Laena, cradling her pregnant belly, leaned against the doorframe of her chambers, expressing her gratitude.
"You are far along. Be sure to rest more," Gladys advised with a gentle smile before taking his leave.
Laena watched him go, then closed the door behind her.
Seated at the bedside, her gaze softened as she unfolded the letter.
It contained over a hundred words, filled with Daemon's ambitions.
[I will conquer a land, and the child in your womb shall be my heir...]
Reading those words, Laena closed her eyes with a sigh, her nose tingling with emotion.
She had heard from Rhaenyra about the Narrow Sea strategy—one force attacking, another blockading, and then dividing the spoils after victory.
Yet within the lines of this letter, Daemon had no intention of sharing anything. He clearly intended to take an entire city for himself with just him and his dragon.
Years of marriage had made Laena well aware of his nature.
Daemon did not want to follow Rhaegar's orders. He planned to act independently, seizing the greatest possible advantage for himself.
"Roar..."
At that moment, Vhagar's mournful cry echoed from outside the Stone Drum, lamenting solitude.
"Vhagar..."
Laena's eyes momentarily lost focus, her growing worries multiplying.
The next day, beneath the blazing sun.
Woo—Woo—Woo—
A somber war horn sounded.
Dozens of warships gathered, their sails emblazoned with the three-headed red dragon, billowing in the wind.
The Sea Snake, clad in heavy armor and gripping a crescent-shaped spear, stood tall on the deck, issuing commands.
The fleet moved in an orderly fashion, sailing toward the port of Lys.
At the ship's entrance, Rhaegar sat cross-legged, holding a glass candle.
The candle was completely transparent, as thick as a baby's arm, with a thin glass wick at the top.
Huff—
Muttering an incantation, Rhaegar watched as a small flame flickered to life on the wick.
He focused his mind, staring intently into the fire.
Whoosh... Whoosh...
The flame flickered, gradually forming a hazy image.
A massive dragon with silver-black scales and misty gray wing membranes soared through the clouded sky.
As its massive body twisted midair, the end of its long tail revealed a missing tip.
Upon closer inspection, its body was riddled with scars, both old and new.
"Roar..."
The dragon let out a powerful roar as a red-robed monk rode on its back, descending into a fortified city.
Sizzle...
The flame abruptly extinguished.
Rhaegar closed his eyes, his consciousness gradually returning to his mind.
As expected, Mogul had returned to defend Lys.
Woo—Woo—Woo—
Suddenly, another low, resounding horn rang through the air, accompanied by the crashing of waves.
"On Guard! Prepare for battle!"
The sea serpent bellowed in a rough voice, commanding the soldiers to roll out the catapults.
Rega opened his eyes and quickly strode to the front of the deck.
Gazing out, he saw a fleet of no fewer than a hundred ships on the sea, their sails painted with all sorts of strange and unusual mercenary insignias.
"Lord Corliss, take the fleet and maintain some distance," Rega said calmly, his eyes flashing with an icy light.
"Screeeech—"
As soon as his words fell, an earth-shaking roar echoed across the sky.
A layer of shadow covered the drifting white clouds as a pitch-black dragon's head emerged, its cold green slit-pupiled eyes peering downward.
In the next instant, the clouds were thrown into turmoil like scattered cotton, and a pair of massive, jet-black wings blotted out the sun.
"Roar…"
The Devourer dove from the clouds like an unstoppable bolt from a crossbow.
Its descent was so swift that, in the blink of an eye, it skimmed the sea's surface, gliding at breakneck speed. Its massive chest slammed into a thick mast, snapping it like a twig.
With a thunderous crash, the impact nearly capsized the warship.
Its fearsome maw twisted into a savage grin, and a torrent of eerie green dragonfire erupted forth, cascading down like the wrath of a terrifying god of death.
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