The Valyrian steel swords, one rippling purple, the other red, clashed in mid-air with a cold, clear ring.
It was as if the Fire Faction and Blood Faction Dragonlords were continuing their duel centuries later.
Only Valyrian steel was so light and sharp; only the ancient Dragonlords possessed such craftsmanship.
Viserys looked at the young Dragonlord before him. Daerys of the Blood Faction. His pride and glory were buried in the ruins of Valyria.
The only thing keeping him lingering here was his obsession with his beloved Daenys.
Fortunately, the colossal two-hundred-meter dragon was dead. If it had risen, Viserys would have been roasted; a hatchling's speed could not match an ancient dragon's flame.
Balerion's fire at its peak could melt stone and steel, turning sand into glass. A blood-magic enhanced ancient dragon would be even worse.
Viserys watched the sword flash. Daerys unleashed a storm of attacks.
Viserys's blade was swift and light, keeping the blood-red aura from touching his body.
Blood magic relied on blood; keeping a distance was safer.
Left, right, up, down.
Daerys's swordsmanship had reached a terrifying level, stripped of all flashy flourishes—primal, powerful, and lethal.
Viserys's boots crunched on the black earth. He couldn't help but feel exhilarated.
This duel, this opponent, allowed him to experience the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
But the setting was perilous. Aside from the clash of blades, Viserys felt a thrilling, terrifying danger.
Daerys spun and slashed, sparking red fire.
A creation of blood magic—the Blood Sword.
The blade bore a sullen red aura, like sweet blood wine.
Viserys raised True Dragon. The two swords were old rivals.
Viserys struck high, sideways, down—defending and counterattacking simultaneously.
Strike fast, strike hard.
Viserys had never faced such a tricky opponent, and this was a half-dead blood wight relying on muscle memory and instinct.
But it made sense. In its prime, Valyria consumed the tribute of half the civilized world. The Dragonlords could hire any master they wished.
Heirs to Dragonlord families had the best sword masters and blood magic tutors from birth.
Viserys and Daerys danced like sword masters in the clearing, agile and violent, elevating combat to an art form.
Comparing Daerys's moves to second-rate warriors, Viserys realized he would never improve fighting lesser foes.
Now, he cherished every moment of this duel with a Blood Faction Dragonlord.
Daerys struck high, slashed sideways, chopped down—constantly advancing, constantly pressuring.
Viserys refused to yield, his sword moving with his feet.
His mithril armor flowed with brilliant light.
Daerys's golden dragon armor shone just as bright.
"The stench of the Rhoynar, yet the taste of Valyrian fire... How is this possible?" Daerys questioned.
Viserys remained silent. Daerys's mind was trapped in past obsessions; explaining would be pointless.
Viserys truly was a mix of Rhoynar and Valyrian Dragonlord blood.
Both men were dangerous. Thrusting steps, sweeping steps, hacking steps.
Slash, hack, speed, speed—striving for the highest, fastest sword.
The duel was intensely fierce.
Sunfyre roared in the sky. The tempo was too fast, the combatants too close; the dragon couldn't intervene.
Time passed in a flurry of blades. Their attacks were like storms, their defenses impenetrable.
Viserys saw Daerys's face twitch in pain. In this brilliant fight, Daerys was expending his strength and blood.
Even a living knight would be exhausted by such violent combat, let alone a fire wight.
Viserys noticed Daerys's movements slowing. Now.
Viserys swung, aiming an upward cut at the gem on Daerys's face.
Daerys looked at Viserys and chanted an ancient Valyrian spell.
"Blood of Reversal."
Viserys felt magic in the words.
The blood-ruby on Daerys's cheek glowed. His skin aged rapidly in one instant, then returned to youthful beauty in the next.
Reversing time, changing age, reversing blood to burst the shackles of the heart.
This "Blood of Reversal" was a dark art that forced blood to flow backward, bursting the heart.
Viserys gripped his sword, struggling against the pain of boiling, reversing blood. His mithril armor flared.
The bracelets and rings in Viserys's pack suddenly emitted a searing heat against his back, dispelling the dizzying vertigo.
Before the pain could tear him apart, Viserys blocked Daerys's attack.
Daerys looked puzzled, surprised that Viserys had evaded his blood magic.
"Blood of Radiance!" Daerys chanted a second spell.
This one didn't target Viserys but empowered Daerys himself.
The red light in Daerys's blood eye intensified. The forehead gem seemed to burn, emitting white smoke.
Daerys's expression twisted like a pained beast, his movements becoming frantic.
Viserys saw wrinkles bloom around Daerys's eyes like aged flowers.
Cracks appeared around the wound in his throat.
Daerys's speed accelerated wildly, pushing human limits, perhaps even transcending them.
Every move was fraught with danger, his swordsmanship unconstrained, his angles and force unparalleled.
Viserys took a deep breath, avoiding entanglement. Now was the time for defensive counterattacks.
Blood magic, burning blood—power at the cost of blood.
Viserys circled, fighting and defending, calm and concise between life and death.
Until he saw Daerys slowing down, each blow becoming heavier.
Before Daerys could cast a third spell, Viserys knocked the sword from his hand.
Casting two blood spells in succession had drained Daerys; he wasn't in his prime.
Daerys looked at Viserys in confusion. "Rhoynar stench... ancient Dragonlord blood... so strange."
"Daenys, forgive me. We didn't fly out..." Daerys said finally, his voice halting.
Viserys punched him with an iron fist, then swiftly drew his dagger, slicing Daerys's face and prying out the forehead gem.
He snatched Daerys's blood-red dagger. Daerys collapsed, truly dead this time.
Sunfyre flew down joyfully, chirping in celebration of his rider's victory.
Viserys watched as Daerys's body rapidly decayed and aged, like a dream fading.
The corpse turned to dust, burning from the inside out until nothing remained but ash.
Viserys wiped sweat from his brow. The Blood Faction's methods were truly horrifying.
He guessed why the ancient dragon could still fly—it was likely due to blood magic blood transfusions.
Like giving an old man fresh blood to restore vitality.
This blood didn't come from precious dragons, but likely from the fire of other species.
Viserys examined Daerys's legacy: a pristine suit of Valyrian steel plate, a blood-red longsword, a ruby ring fallen in the dust, and several blood-rubies and red crystal daggers.
The armor was named Lightshield—shining gold like a shield of light, incredibly hard.
The blood-red sword had a cold name: Secret Blood. Like Blackfyre, it was likely the pride of a Dragonlord house.
Secret Blood and True Dragon were inscribed with ancient Valyrian runes and arrays, making them more precious than ordinary Valyrian steel—like self-charging batteries of power.
Viserys took out the Belaerys bracelets and rings from his pack. The Fire Faction had prepared well against blood magic.
He examined the jewelry. Blood is fire; fire is blood.
Viserys pricked his finger with the Valyrian dagger, letting the bracelets and rings drink his blood.
Blood dripped onto the purple-gold dragon jewelry, igniting intense flames.
When the transformation was complete, the jewelry lay quietly in his palm.
Viserys felt a hazy light merge into his hand—a strange sensation.
"A spatial ring?"
Viserys looked at the ring curiously.
Spatial magic wasn't unheard of in this world, but it was extremely rare.
The Black Gate at the Nightfort on the Wall was made of white weirwood with a face. Old, pale, wrinkled, dead. Eyes closed, mouth closed. It glowed faintly.
When approached, the eyes opened—white and blind.
Only a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch who answered the gate's question could pass.
[ "Fate-Reverser" Viserys Targaryen, you have slain the last Blood Faction Dragonlord, Daerys, and obtained a Spatial Ring (Stable Matter Only). Spirit ↑. ]
Magic and spirit were closely linked, hence the spirit increase.
Viserys scanned it roughly; it was about the size of a room. He hadn't fully probed it yet. As his spirit increased, the space should expand.
Viserys waved his hand, sweeping up Daerys's legacy.
He rested for a moment, then strode forward.
With the Blood Faction Dragonlord dead, his exploration of the Blood Tower was over.
Viserys entered the ruined tower. The walls, coated in black pigment, still looked oily, as if absorbing light and fire.
He saw claw marks solidified in the black stone floor, imagining how many humans and animals had been tormented by blood magic here.
When the Blood Tower cracked, many pets likely died, and the few survivors fled.
Viserys first saw a large, ancient book glowing with iridescent light. Bound in unknown fur, it was magnificent. Its title: The Book of Species.
Opening it, he found drawings of various ancient animals, categorized by region: Essos, the islands, Gogossos.
Curious, he turned to the Westeros chapter, finding very little.
"Land sung by many elements, Westeros. Misfortune befalls those who tread there." The Dragonlord's tone was wary.
Then he found the section on the sea: "Sea serpents, loathsome monsters, and krakens."
It seemed the sea and Westeros held things dragons detested, something the old Dragonlords had sensed.
Viserys looted the tower like an archaeologist: written records first, then Valyrian steel. He ignored mundane items.
He found a massive two-handed sword, Dominator, similar to Ice or Brightroar.
The crossguard depicted the sun and moon; the pommel was a roaring dragon head. The blade rippled with red and gold.
He also took a simple Valyrian-style warhammer.
He found two more barrels of the black oily barrier agent and took them.
Besides these, he found a chariot reinforced with Valyrian steel—an absurd display of wealth.
Perhaps some ancient Dragonlord enjoyed drag racing as much as dragon riding.
Viserys searched the tower thoroughly, leaving nothing of value behind, though he avoided the most dangerous unstable areas.
Finally, under a pile of rubble, he found a container shaped like a volcano, silent for ages.
The container was black stone inlaid with purple and red gems and flowing flame runes—a masterpiece.
"A mini dragon nest." Viserys rejoiced.
The nest had slots for five eggs, but one was missing. Remaining were a gold-red egg, a blue one, a silver-purple one, and a red-bronze one.
The nest seemed bonded to the eggs; they were hard to remove, so Viserys took the whole thing.
Beneath the nest was an ancient bronze box. Opening it, he found flowers of light in various colors, similar to the blood flower in the dragon's eye.
"Tinder absorbed from the fire of life?"
Seeing the lifelike flame flowers—mammoth, sea serpent, giant eagle, snow bear—this seemed the only answer.
The Dragonlords' blood magic view was similar to Melisandre's: the life of any species was a flame to be harvested. Blood was fire.
Melisandre had said Stannis's fire was burning low after creating shadow assassins; she would need another source.
Thanks to the spatial ring, he swept the lab clean. Satisfied, Viserys left.
Sunfyre was waiting anxiously outside, chirping at the sight of him.
Viserys patted the dragon's snout. After collecting the blood-fire tinder from the old dragon's eye, they could leave.
Everything was going smoothly.
Then Viserys heard shouting nearby.
Others were here?
Viserys mounted Sunfyre and flew to the shadowed side of the ruins, watching the approaching adventurers.
"Great Undying One, this is the Place of Fire you spoke of, where the blood mage might be."
The newcomers were Unsullied, fully armored.
How had they reached the wizard's palace?
"The place I seek... Though I am decaying unto death, I feel the ripples of magic. I crave the fire of life again. A dragon... a dragon's vitality will ignite me," the leader, an Undying One, said.
He glanced at his chest. Inside an ebony box lay a beating heart.
A blue, decaying human heart, a relic of an ancient wizard, said to possess miraculous power.
Viserys peeked. Qartheen?
The wizard's skin was a saturated blue-purple. He must have expended immense effort to get here.
The warlock coughed incessantly, spitting red blood. His attendant offered him silver wine—shade of the evening.
"An ancient barrier agent... pity it's not Dragonlord blood. If I don't find the fire soon, I will die."