"What kind of king do you wish to be?"
The words seemed to roll from the dragon's throat, yet carried a clarity that resonated through the minds of the pirate leaders. The roar of the massive black dragon morphed into an almost tangible, thunderous voice, hammering their hearts like a relentless drum.
A pillar of platinum fire erupted from the dragon's mouth, twisting and curling skyward like a living serpent. The flames danced and swirled with purpose, encircling the stronghold in a blazing inferno, while a wall of fire shot up from the ground, sealing off the only escape route toward the sea.
Damian Thorne lowered his head, his piercing brown eyes scanning the pirates below, each face twisted in a mixture of terror and defiance. Deep within the dragon's throat, a flash of heat ignited as he prepared his next strike.
A handful of pirates dared to lift their weapons. In the blink of an eye, tiny sparks danced along the edge of Damian's flames, striking them with surgical precision. The unfortunate few were reduced to charred, blackened skeletons before they could even cry out.
With a lazy sweep of his colossal black tail, the dragon collapsed wooden and stone structures, sending debris hurtling through the air like a hailstorm. Its folded right wing rolled across the ground with devastating force, smashing the remaining defenders into the dust, muffling their cries under bone-crushing pressure.
"Damn it!" Qichuan Luo, the pirate leader, roared. Blood rushed to his eyes, giving them a demonic red glow. He lifted his massive axe and charged the shadowy form of the dragon, hoping to meet it head-on.
The dragon's wings slammed down like twin hammers of night, tossing Luo and his axe into the ground with lethal precision. The leader's body went still, lifeless before he even hit the floor.
Damian turned his massive head, gazing indifferently over the remaining pirates. Flames surged from his mouth, sweeping across the crowd, reducing them to screaming, fleeing fragments. Chaos reigned. Those who tried to escape fled toward a cave behind the stronghold, thinking they could hide from the inferno.
Damian's fire followed relentlessly. The entrance was engulfed in scorching light, and the cave's interior burned with such intensity that the sounds of the survivors' screams were replaced by the sizzling of rocks and splintering stone.
Ni Luo, the clever Qarthite pirate, trembled violently. He grabbed the heavy wooden cross holding the wizard captive and, along with his aides, fled through the chaos. Every step was a desperate gamble, the heat from the dragon's flames scorching the air around them.
"Fool!" the wizard croaked from the cross, his voice hoarse and ragged. "You cannot escape! Kneel! Beg for mercy!"
"This… this is a wild dragon! It will devour us!" Ni Luo gasped, his teeth chattering with fear.
"Have you never heard of a dragon that can speak?" The wizard's voice was cold, like a basin of icy water poured over Ni Luo's head.
Ni Luo froze. The legend resurfaced in his mind—the whispered name that terrified sailors across Slaver's Bay.
"The Dragon King of Slaver's Bay…" he muttered, disbelief and terror choking his voice. "How… how did he arrive here?"
Fear gave way to reverence. Ni Luo realized the scale of power they were confronting. His arms shook violently as he dropped the wooden cross, the first to kneel before the divine judgment descending upon the island.
One by one, the remaining pirates followed. Weapons clattered to the ground. Groups knelt, heads bowed in submission. None dared to meet the eye of the living legend above them.
Drake's eyes burned with bloodshot rage. Years of scheming, his loyal crew, all obliterated by a single wave of divine punishment. He could feel the last shreds of his sanity disintegrating.
"Ah—!" he roared, a primal, beast-like sound, and charged at Ni Luo, who knelt pleadingly on the scorched earth.
Damian Thorne, still in his dragon form, raised his massive left wing and pressed it down like swatting a fly.
"Bang!"
Drake barely managed a strangled scream before his body was slammed to the ground. His upper torso twitched weakly, while the rest of him was flattened by an overwhelming force.
The remaining pirates, hiding in damaged buildings, were incinerated by the dragon's heat. The few who attempted to flee through the wall of fire were reduced to ash before even reaching the edge.
Damian shifted his immense body, his dark eyes sweeping over the remaining survivors kneeling on the scorched ground. A wooden frame, splintered and half-buried in dirt, still held the wizard prisoner.
"What sort of new sect are you starting here?" Damian's voice echoed in their minds, teasing, sharp, and terrifying. "Perhaps you'd like some nails to finish your work?"
Ni Luo quaked violently. "G-Great… Dragon King, this is a wizard from Yashai! He created the thick fog covering the island…"
Damian's eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked toward the wizard on the wooden frame. Then, with a voice that boomed over the silence like rolling thunder, he demanded, "Which of you robbed the merchant ship bringing iron from Meereen?"
The old blind man raised his bony finger, trembling. "Your Majesty… he did it!"
The identified pirate's face drained of color. Even his comrades crawled away from him as if avoiding plague itself.
"Your Majesty, only his fleet has been near Slaver's Bay recently!" the blind man shouted, his voice cracking with effort.
Before the pirate could respond, a narrow jet of dragon fire shot from Damian's mouth with deadly precision. The target was instantly incinerated, leaving nothing but a blackened, human-shaped crater in the scorched earth.
A blinding light erupted from Damian's dragon form. The immense black body shrank rapidly, reorganizing itself until a young man with black hair and deep brown eyes stood in its place.
"Now, deal with the remaining ships in that fleet," Damian Thorne commanded calmly, his voice imbued with unyielding authority. "Do this, and I will forgive you this time."
The pirates' minds shattered. The illusion of control they had clung to vanished instantly.
In the ensuing panic, the blind old man's eyes gleamed with ruthlessness. He drew his sword and killed a nearby pirate he recognized from the fleet, igniting chaos.
To survive, Ni Luo and the other leaders attacked indiscriminately, hacking anyone they did not recognize. A determined pirate fired a small crossbow bolt at Damian. Without turning his head, Damian casually caught it with one hand.
He swung his hand back, flinging the bolt like a dart. It flew through the air with a whistle and pierced the pirate's head. The impact pinned others behind him to the ground, their screams cut off abruptly.
The blind old man fell to his knees, panting, realizing that survival was the only goal. Damian Thorne's power was beyond mortal comprehension. The crossbow bolts, arrows, and weapons of men could not withstand him.
The carnage quieted, leaving the stench of blood and ash. Damian's gaze fell on the blind man. "Go, count the survivors," he instructed, his calm voice cutting through the deathly silence.
He then turned to Ni Luo, standing beside the wizard. "The one in silk, place the wizard on the ground. I have questions for him."
Ni Luo and his aides carefully untied the ropes and laid the wizard down. The thin, frail figure lifted his head to meet Damian's gaze, his single eye blinking slowly.
"A wizard from Yashai," Damian said, his voice curious. "What have you learned?"
"Necromancy," the wizard rasped. His voice was dry, thin, fitting the stereotype of a wizened necromancer.
"How did you get caught?" Damian asked, intrigued.
The wizard coughed violently, as if disturbed by internal injuries. "I have enemies… I could no longer stay there. I escaped, following a prophecy."
"A prophecy?" Damian leaned closer, eyes alight with interest.
For the first time, the wizard's eyes showed a spark of enthusiasm. "It has come true. Seeing you… my prophecy has come true."
Damian studied him quietly, considering. Then, finally, he asked, "What is your name?"
"Alan," the wizard replied.
"Would you be interested in working for me?" Damian asked.
Alan's lips curled into a strange, wry smile. Without hesitation, he answered, "Of course, Your Majesty."
The pirates, trembling and kneeling in the distance, finally realized the futility of resistance. Damian Thorne, the Dragon King of Slaver's Bay, had not only brought fire and death but had also commanded submission, loyalty, and fear in a single display.
And with Alan now under his command, Damian's influence over both magic and the seas had grown even stronger.
The Basilisk Islands had learned a lesson they would never forget: no mortal king could compete with the Dragon King.
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