Under the deterrence of these ancient beasts, the dragons, all the warhorses also lost control, rearing up on their hind legs.
Amidst disbelieving screams, the Dothraki were thrown from their trusted warhorses and frantically trampled.
The slaves, even more so, dropped their spears and scattered across the battlefield like headless flies.
"Assemble, fire!"
A noble knight from Meereen, unwilling to surrender, rallied a troop of soldiers, attempting to retaliate with arrows once more.
However, the next moment, everyone was dumbfounded.
Facing the approaching dragons, the arrows shot by the army couldn't even scratch the scales on the dragons' bellies.
All the long arrows, even when they struck the dragons' thin wings, were like fine needles stuck in steel, either easily broken or making crisp "crackle" sounds before helplessly bouncing to the ground.
The next moment, the dragons turned their heads, and the scorching Dragonflame, like a scythe cast by the Grim Reaper, completely harvested them.
"Damn it, Braavos is in big trouble this time!"
On a nearby hilltop, Syrio Forel gazed at the battlefield, his face changing dramatically.
The Sealord had dispatched him to observe the battle and opportunistically scavenge.
He hadn't expected, however, to witness such a shocking scene.
Viserys Targaryen was not the Dragonrider of legend who was still unable to control or ride dragons.
On the contrary, he was not only the most powerful Dragonrider in the Targaryen Family's history but had even surpassed all his ancestors, becoming a bizarre wizard with magic.
However, before he could continue to agonize over whether to stay or leave.
The next moment, his pupils constricted, and his breathing became rapid.
A huge golden figure appeared directly before his eyes, and his heart was filled with nothing but the fear of death!
Syrio Forel tremblingly drew the longsword made of fine iron from his waist.
However, facing the overwhelming beast, the swordsmanship he had painstakingly cultivated for decades was now completely at a loss as to where to strike!
"Heh, to hell with the Sealord!"
Syrio Forel spat, a helpless, bitter smile on his face.
"Dragonflame!"
Looking at the warrior before him, Viserys Targaryen, riding Sunfyre, coldly shouted.
The next moment, this chief swordsman from Braavos, the master of the "Water Dance" sword style, along with his longsword, was reduced to a puddle of molten iron!
"Charge out to meet the enemy... ah, no, harvest!"
Ser Willem Darry commanded, a bit awkwardly.
As a knight fighting for the King, he felt a sense of shame for the first time.
In this battle, while Viserys Targaryen, the King, fought with overwhelming force at the front, he, as a knight, could only cower in the rear, developing his strength.
A profound sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart.
"Is this the power of dark magic?"
Ser Willem Darry frowned, thinking to himself.
Rumble!
As Ser Willem Darry was thinking, the gates of Pentos finally opened completely.
Immediately after, the smell of sulfur and blood wafted over.
The air was now permeated with the scent of death!
"Kill—"
With a great shout, the Unsullied Army and the noble lords of the King's Landing charged out with their weapons, clearing the battlefield.
The outcome of this battle was already decided!
The Dothraki would completely dry up here; the ambitions of Qohor and Meereen would also turn to ashes here.
"Damn it, only a fool would go against a true Dragon!"
Ser Beric Dondarrion frowned, thinking with lingering fear.
As a nobleman from the Stormlands, he was glad he had joined the Targaryen Family early.
Otherwise, what awaited him in the future would sooner or later be even more powerful dragons!
Just as his soul was shaken by the power of the dragons, suddenly, a "fallen corpse" rolled over and stood up, charging straight at him.
"Damn it, a sneak attack!"
Ser Beric Dondarrion cursed, furious.
As a Kingsguard knight, handpicked from the warriors around Viserys Targaryen, he, clad in armor, was no pushover on the battlefield!
Even against a monster like Brienne of Tarth, he could hold his own for dozens of moves!
Looking at the simple leather armor and scimitar on the Dothraki horde warrior opposite him, Ser Beric Dondarrion showed a hint of disdainful smile.
The next moment, a cold light flashed, and a fresh red gash appeared on Ser Beric Dondarrion's neck, blood gushing out!
"What the f—!"
Before Ser Beric Dondarrion could finish his curse, his eyes went black, and he collapsed.
"Pah!"
Khal Drogo disdainfully stepped on Ser Beric Dondarrion's head, looking up and coldly gazing at Viserys Targaryen riding his dragon in the sky.
As a warrior who worshipped the Horse God, he had to admit that as long as dragons existed, it wouldn't be warhorses that conquered the world!
But as the strongest Khal of the Dothraki horde, he didn't believe he had lost this battle.
Looking at Ser Beric Dondarrion's headless corpse at his feet, a ferocious smile appeared on his face.
The next moment, he picked up Ser Beric Dondarrion's helmet, put on his armor, and silently headed in the direction where Viserys Targaryen had landed… "Surrender, I surrender!"
A slave soldier raised his hands, knelt on the ground, and pleaded, sobbing uncontrollably.
However, before he could speak, a longsword flashed, unexpectedly cutting him down.
"Spineless wretch!"
Khal Drogo, clad in armor, spat contemptuously.
Compared to his brave Dothraki horde warriors, these slave soldiers were simply pathetic.
But even if he didn't want to admit it, his tribe had indeed suffered heavy losses, with many of his bloodriders falling in battle!
The thought of the helplessness he felt when being chased by the dragons earlier made Khal Drogo furious.
Facing the overwhelming dragons, his Dothraki scimitar was too short to reach, and riding a warhorse, he couldn't escape, forcing him to abandon even his most beloved warhorse.
"Little King, you will pay the price!"
Khal Drogo bloodily licked the corner of his mouth, sneering.
As the most powerful Khal in the Dothraki horde, he was confident he could kill anyone within ten paces!
Even an armored Kingsguard was no match for him.
"One hundred paces left, fifty paces…"
Khal Drogo walked with his head down, but the corner of his eye constantly observed where Viserys Targaryen had stopped.
As long as he got within ten paces of him, Khal Drogo was absolutely confident he could take the little King's head in one round!
With the disguise of Ser Beric Dondarrion's Kingsguard helmet and armor, Khal Drogo successfully approached Viserys Targaryen.
"Ser Beric Dondarrion, you've worked hard!"
Seeing the familiar Kingsguard approach, Viserys Targaryen comfortably took off his silver dragon helmet, shook his hair, and dismounted from Sunfyre's back.
As Viserys Targaryen's first dragon-riding battle in his life, this victory, where the few overcame the many, was undeniably exhilarating for him.
Although he had the boost of the dragonlord's horn, this also greatly increased Viserys Targaryen's confidence!
However, the next moment, Khal Drogo grinned ferociously and thrust his longsword, attacking the little King who didn't know his place!
"Drogo?!"
Seeing the unfamiliar face beneath the approaching man's helmet, Viserys Targaryen was shocked and terrified.
"Buzz!"
In that instant, the longsword seemed to pierce the air, swift as lightning, making a tearing whoosh.
This sword strike was more than half a beat faster than Ser Willem Darry's killing move.
The next moment, the sword tip had already reached Viserys Targaryen's throat.