Location: Vaes Dothrak - The Mother of Mountains
The two-month journey across the Dothraki Sea passed in a blur of dust and heat for the Khalasar, but for Ren's group, it was a period of intense preparation.
[Time Skip Summary]
Inside the Pocket Dimension, Ren drilled his harem relentlessly.
Maggie & Andrea: Mastered the Anti-Titan Sniping Doctrine. They could now hit a moving target at 1,500 yards.
Saeko: Trained against Ren's partial Titan form. She learned to dodge swipes that would crush a tank.
Saya: Mapped the political landscape of Westeros and Essos. She became the group's spymaster.
Hirano: Crafted special ammunition. Using the Fire Wyrm Heart scales (which Ren chipped off carefully), he created "Incendiary Rounds" that burned at 2,000 degrees.
Ren's Growth: Ren spent weeks meditating to synchronize his Sovereign Titan form. He unlocked Partial Transformation (Arm only/Ribcage only), allowing him to fight without destroying his surroundings.
Shizuka Marikawa: The clumsy nurse found her role. She wasn't a fighter, but she was a healer. Ren spent evenings with her in the villa's infirmary, teaching her how to use System-bought medical tech.
One evening, after a long ride, Shizuka was massaging Ren's shoulders in the villa.
She was tipsy on wine. "You're always so tense, Ren-chan," she giggled, her hands soft but surprisingly strong. Ren turned around, catching her wrists. "And you're always so soft, Shizuka." Shizuka blushed, her airhead mask slipping. "I... I know I'm not useful like Saeko or smart like Saya. I'm just..." "You're the comfort," Ren whispered, pulling her into his lap.
"A King needs a place to rest his head where there is no war. That's you." He kissed her.
Shizuka didn't resist; she melted, happy to be needed, happy to be held by the strongest man in two worlds.
....
[Shizuka Status: Devoted/Lover.]
The City of Horse Lords
Now, they stood at the entrance to Vaes Dothrak. The massive horse gate loomed overhead.
"No weapons," Jorah Mormont reminded them as they dismounted. "It is death to draw steel in the sacred city."
Ren looked at the gate. "Death for them, maybe."
He signaled his team. They left their rifles in the wagon (safely stored in the Pocket Dimension inventory access). They walked in carrying only hidden daggers—and Ren, who was a weapon.
The feast was loud, smelling of roasted meat and fermented milk. Khal Drogo sat at the high table with Daenerys. She looked radiant, pregnant with the "Stallion Who Mounts the World." She had grown strong, just as Ren predicted.
Viserys Targaryen sat in the back, drunk and seething.
Ren sat with his group near the front. He was eating calmly, watching Viserys.
"He's going to snap," Saya whispered, cutting her meat. "His stress levels are critical. The pregnancy was the final straw."
"Let him," Ren sipped his wine. "We need him out of the way."
Viserys stood up. He staggered toward Daenerys. He was shouting, waving his sword—a violation of the sacred law.
"I want what I came for!" Viserys screamed. "I want my crown!"
The music stopped. The Dothraki went silent.
Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki.
Viserys pointed his sword at Daenerys's pregnant belly. "Give me my crown, or I'll cut this baby out and leave it for the dogs!"
Ren didn't move.
He watched Daenerys from across the fire, his gaze lingering on the swell of her pregnancy not with jealousy, but with the cold calculation of a sovereign.
To a lesser man, allowing another to touch what he claimed might seem like weakness, but Ren knew the immutable laws of this world better than any maester. Blood magic required a price. The three stone eggs in his inventory were dormant, cold dead things that demanded a soul of royal blood to wake. The child growing inside her wasn't a son to be raised; he was a battery charging for the ritual to come.
Rhaego was the currency, and Daenerys was the vessel. Ren hadn't stepped in because he couldn't; without this tragedy, there would be no dragons, and Daenerys would remain a frightened girl rather than a Queen forged in loss. He didn't envy the ghost that was Khal Drogo; he simply waited for the inevitable pyre that would burn away her past, leaving her clean and ready for him.
Drogo stood up. He spoke to Viserys. "You shall have a golden crown that men shall tremble to behold."
Viserys smiled, thinking he had won. But then Drogo's bloodriders grabbed him.
They broke his arm. Snap. Viserys screamed.
Drogo threw his gold medallions into a melting pot over the fire.
"Look away, Khaleesi," Jorah warned Daenerys.
Daenerys didn't look away. She watched with cold eyes.
Ren watched too. He saw the gold melting.
"System," Ren thought. "Is that gold pure?"
[Analysis: Low purity. Mixed with bronze.]
Drogo walked over to Viserys with the pot of molten gold.
"A crown for a King!"
SPLAT.
He poured the molten metal over Viserys's head. The scream was cut short as the gold solidified, crushing his skull and burning his brain.
Viserys Targaryen fell dead. The "Golden Crown" clanged against the stone floor.
"He was no dragon," Daenerys whispered. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."
Ren stood up.
The Dothraki looked at him. Drogo looked at him, chest heaving.
Ren walked over to the body of Viserys. He looked at the golden mask fused to the dead man's face.
"A waste of good gold," Ren said in perfect Dothraki (thanks to the Universal Translator).
Drogo narrowed his eyes. "You speak the tongue of men, shadow-man?"
"I speak many tongues, Khal Drogo," Ren said. "And I see you have removed the weak link."
Ren looked at Daenerys.
"Now, Khaleesi," Ren bowed slightly. "You are the last dragon. The path is clear."
Later that night, outside the feast tent.
Ren was intercepted by Illyrio Mopatis (who had traveled briefly to check on his investment) and Varys (in disguise).
"Lord Ren," Varys—the Spider—emerged from the shadows, smelling of lavender. "A tragic accident inside. Truly."
"Tragic," Ren agreed. "But necessary."
"You are a man of mystery," Varys tittered. "No history. No family name. Yet you travel with an army of women who fight like demons and you hold steel that rivals Valyria."
"I like my privacy, Lord Varys," Ren said.
"Privacy is expensive," Varys noted. "Tell me... who do you serve? The Lion? The Stag? Or the Dragon?"
Ren leaned in close. His Incubus Charisma washed over the eunuch, unsettling him.
"I don't serve the pieces on the board, Spider," Ren whispered. "I'm the one who flips the table."
Ren walked away, leaving the Master of Whisperers confused and terrified.
Two days later. The market of Vaes Dothrak.
Daenerys was shopping. A wine merchant offered her a cask.
Ren was watching from a nearby stall, eating an apple.
"Jorah," Ren called out casually.
Ser Jorah looked over.
"Check the seal," Ren advised.
Jorah frowned, then looked at the wine merchant. The merchant looked nervous.
"Open it," Jorah commanded. "You drink first."
The merchant panicked and threw the cask, trying to run. Ren didn't even stand up.
[Skill: Telekinesis (Trip)]
He twitched a finger. An invisible force caught the merchant's ankle. He face-planted into the dirt.
The Dothraki guards swarmed him.
Daenerys looked at Ren, pale. "He tried to poison me."
"The Usurper Robert Baratheon wants you dead," Ren said, walking over. "This is war, Daenerys. And in war, you strike first."
The Inventory Check
Back in the Pocket Dimension that night.
Ren stood in his armory.
[Item: Heart of the Fire Wyrm]
Description: A pulsating organ of magical heat.
Use: Can be consumed or crafted.
Ren made a decision. He didn't want to craft a sword; he had plenty. He needed Resistance.
"System," Ren asked. "Can I consume this?"
[Affirmative. Warning: Extreme Pain. Survival chance 60% without Titan Regeneration. 100% with Titan Regeneration.]
"Perfect."
Ren took the heart. It was warm, rubbery.
He bit into it.
It tasted like charcoal and chili peppers concentrated a thousand times. He gagged but swallowed it.
[Consuming Legendary Item...]
[Assimilation in Progress.]
Ren fell to his knees. His veins glowed orange. Smoke poured from his mouth.
It felt like the Wyrm was trying to burn him from the inside out. But his Titan Healing Factor fought back, knitting the cells as fast as they burned.
An hour later, the pain subsided.
[Assimilation Complete.]
[New Passive Acquired: Flame of the Sovereign.]
[Effects:-
High-Tier Fire Immunity: Host is immune to normal fire and highly resistant to magical fire (Dragonfire).
Heat Generation: Host can superheat their skin/weapons without needing Titan Hardening friction.]
Ren stood up. He held out his hand. He concentrated.
His hand didn't just get hot; it glowed like molten iron.
"Fire cannot kill a dragon," Ren quoted Daenerys. "And now... it can't kill me either."