But he would never find Euron again.
Long before the blood sacrifice began, a longship had taken advantage of the chaos to flee Pike Island.
Meanwhile, the raindrops grew larger, slapping against the ground with a rhythmic thud and stinging like fire against the face.
Dark clouds blanketed the sky, leaving not a single sliver of light.
Balon seemed to sense something and abruptly looked up at the sky.
Rumble—!
A flash of lightning followed by a roar of thunder; lightning surged within the dark clouds like a thunder god striking war drums.
Outside Seaguard.
Daeron Targaryen and Caraxes stood atop a high hill, the silver lightning illuminating their faces as they allowed the bean-sized raindrops to pelt their cheeks.
"Screech!"
"Screech————"
Tessarion and Toothless had lost their usual vitality, curling up amidst the torrential downpour, seeking the sense of security provided by their father and eldest brother.
"What heavy rain!"
Daeron's gaze was piercing, revealing a deep sense of wariness.
It was fortunate he had left quickly.
Sensing the magical disturbance in the Iron Islands, where the water vapor suppressed other forms of magic, he had immediately mounted his dragon and departed.
Otherwise, it was hard to say what might have happened.
Clatter, clatter————
The sound of galloping warhorses rang out. Having heard the news, Lord Jason led a troop of cavalry and rushed over.
"Prince, what has happened?"
Lord Jason had heard that a dragon had returned alone. Although he had chosen to support his liege lord, the Tully family, he held the Dragon Prince, whom he had met once, in high regard.
Daeron did not speak, simply pointing his finger forward.
Lord Jason followed the direction of his finger and saw Ironmans Bay shrouded in dark clouds, where lightning surged wildly and a storm raged, rain pouring down like a deluge, covering everything in its path.
"A storm!!"
Lord Jason recognized the situation. Despite his steady and serious character, he could not help but turn pale with shock.
For those who sailed the seas, the danger of a storm was comparable to the end of the world.
Even a coastal territory like Seaguard would suffer severe damage from such a storm.
Lord Jason hurriedly said, "Prince, the storm came so suddenly, what about Ser Brynden and the others—?"
No ships could survive in such a storm.
Daeron wiped the raindrops from his forehead, trying to keep his tone calm: "I warned them to evacuate in time. If they moved fast enough, perhaps they could make it through Ironmans Bay."
Just as the other man said, this storm had come so suddenly it caught everyone off guard.
With Caraxes flying at full speed, it had taken half a day to cross the curtain of rain and return to the safety of Seaguard.
No matter how fast the two fleets were, they couldn't outrun a dragon; they were likely still within Ironmans Bay.
"One can only pray for their good luck, that they left the Iron Islands at the center of the storm and can find their way in the bay."
Daeron could offer no help.
The two most dangerous things in a storm were having the ship capsized by waves and losing one's way.
He couldn't help with the former, and he wouldn't help with the latter.
To fly back on a dragon to guide the two fleets would be a foolish act.
He would rather the two fleets be wiped out than risk himself and his three dragons.
Daeron: "The Ironborn really have some tricks up their sleeves."
By sensing the saltiness, stench, and aura of corruption in the water vapor, he vaguely guessed that someone had used unnatural means and unnatural abilities.
It was somewhat like a 'lite' version of the Hammer of the Waters released by the Children of the Forest, and also a bit like the methods of the Rhoynar Water Wizards.
Setting aside the Hammer of the Waters for a moment.
The Children of the Forest had used it as a group twice. Once to shatter the Arm of Dorne, forming what are now the Stepstones.
Another time they summoned a tsunami to submerge the forests north of Trident River, forming Neck where the crannogman live.
Those two Hammers of the Waters not only broke the tectonic plates of the continent of Westeros but also worked hundreds of vital Greenseers within the tribe to death.
According to Leaf, it had been a very long time since a Greenseer was born among the Children of the Forest.
As for the Water Wizards of the Rhoynar, there was a certain story.
Legend has it that during the era of Old Valyria, three dragonlords visited the Rhoyne River river basin and were hosted by the Rhoynar.
However, the three dragonlords took it upon themselves to hunt and kill the giant turtle in the Rhoyne River known as the 'Old Man of the River,' which enraged the Rhoynar and triggered a conflict.
————It was somewhat like the Han envoys from his past life, intentionally provoking others.
It was both expected and unexpected.
The Rhoynar Water Wizards united and released a waterspout, killing two of the dragonlords.
The lethality was quite astonishing!
Of course, the final result was that the surviving dragonlord returned to the The Freehold and, through a council vote, gathered three hundred dragons to launch a war of conquest.
After this battle, the Rhoyne River was scorched dry by Dragonfire, and five hundred thousand Rhoynar warriors were slaughtered.
This led to the 'Ten Thousand Ships' migration of the Warrior Queen Nymeria, who took root in the soil of Dorne, married into the Martell family, and integrated the Rhoynar bloodline into Westeros.
"Times really have changed, even the Ironborn are making such a big commotion."
Daeron looked at them in a new light.
However, such a large-scale ultimate move that didn't distinguish between friend and foe could probably only be used once by the Iron Islands.
"One must learn from the lessons of predecessors."
Daeron adjusted his mindset and accepted the invitation to Seaguard to take shelter from the rain.
It was fortunate he dodged it quickly and didn't face it head-on.
Several days later.
Ironmans Bay was calm, returning to the bright sunshine of previous days.
The Redwyne Fleet flying the 'cluster of purple grapes' banner and the Shield Islands fleet flying banners of the 'Green Hand,' 'White Rose,''Shield,' and others returned safely, anchoring at Eagle's Foot under the jurisdiction of Seaguard.
When Daeron saw the two fleets, he found that Randyll Tarly, Paxter, Brynden, and the others were all safe and sound.
However, a portion of the ships was missing.
Roughly estimated, they had lost four to five hundred men and over a dozen longships.
"Prince, to be able to survive in that storm is already very fortunate."
Paxter felt a lingering fear, then added: "Those dozen or so longships couldn't withstand the wind and waves. I will provide compensation and pensions to their families afterward."
Daeron patted his shoulder, signaling for him to restrain his grief.
But overall, the losses were still within a controllable range.
"I really didn't expect to encounter such a terrifying storm."
Paxter was completely baffled.
Brynden, who was drying his boiled leather armor, interjected: "That storm was not normal."
He had participated in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and had been a mercenary for several years; he was long accustomed to life at sea.
But a storm that came and went like that was simply unheard of.
Daeron kept his suspicions to himself, signed an IOU to purchase a batch of supplies from Lord Jason, and led the fleet to attack the Iron Islands again.
A storm of that magnitude had even affected the fishing villages near Seaguard.
The Iron Islands, situated right at the center, would only be in a more miserable and difficult state.
It was the perfect time to deploy troops.
The two fleets crossed Ironmans Bay and appeared in a grand display outside Pike Island.
.
Daeron looked from afar, his brow furrowed.
At this moment, Pike Island, and even the entire Iron Islands, could only be described with the word 'miserable' in capital letters.
The houses of ordinary Ironborn were all destroyed, and the lordly castles and towers on various islands were damaged to varying degrees, but none were in good shape.
The most eye-catching was undoubtedly Pike Island.
On the bay-shaped island, several towering sea stacks stood, and Pyke was built upon them.
Currently, one of the sea stack pillars facing the sea had snapped in the middle, collapsing onto the road leading up to the island.
Had it been slightly more off-course, it would have crushed Pyke.
"They brought this upon themselves; they cannot be saved."
Daeron felt no sympathy whatsoever.
With the blowing of the attack horn, the two fleets anchored by the shore, and the army flooded onto Pike Island.
However—
The remaining Ironborn on the island had no will to resist at all. Each of them had a cold, indifferent face as they picked up the remains of their companions washed ashore by the waves.
Some bodies had been soaking in the sea for so long they were highly bloated.
Others had crashed against the reefs and broken directly into several pieces.
Once the army landed, they no longer had the heart for a massacre.
"Prince—your orders?"
Paxter stood dazed on the spot, somewhat unsure of what to do.
Even the iron-hearted Randyll Tarly now ordered his soldiers to sheathe their weapons.
For a soldier, an enemy with no will to resist was not worth innocent slaughter.
Daeron looked around and said, "Send men to guard the docks, and then split half the men to clear away the bodies."
Finally, he added: "Find some dry wood and use cremation."
To be honest, his goal had been to kill half the Ironborn to instill fear of him in their hearts.
But looking at the current situation, the Ironborn who survived the storm might not even amount to half their original number.
The group arrived at Pyke.
The city gates slowly pushed open, and a menacing Ironborn lord rushed out.
"Damn you Targaryens, my wife and children all died in the storm, it's all your fault."
Lord Dunstan Drumm's eyes were bloodshot, and his strong body emitted the aura of Life Force, yet it also carried a sense of weakness.
The Drumm Family was ruined, and Old Wyk was ruined as well.
He didn't even have a target for revenge, so he could only hate the green-landers who had attacked the Iron Islands.
Daeron frowned slightly and asked, "Have you absorbed a special gemstone?"
"That's right!"
Lord Dunstan roared and drew the ancestral sword from his waist: "Targaryen dragonseed, I've heard of you, winning two Trials by Combat in a row. If you have the guts, face me in a one-on-one duel."
Daeron looked him over, took a liking to that red longsword, and readily accepted: "Then let's begin."
"Die!!"
A flash of red light appeared in Lord Dunstan's eyes, and his muscles bulged beneath his hard armor.
He took three steps in two, his arms bolstered by Life Force as he delivered a heavy, overhead cleave.
"Too slow!"
Daeron sidestepped the attack, drew Dark Sister, and thrust it into his neck.
Lord Dunstan's body stiffened, and his eyes showed disbelief.
He slowly turned his neck, wanting to see the Dragon Prince's face clearly, but found blood spurting out, and his vision turned completely red.
With a thud, the body fell to the ground.
"Collect the body; we'll cremate it together later."
Daeron picked up the red longsword still tightly gripped in the corpse's hand, weighed it, and said calmly: "A small gain."
The ancestral sword of the Drumm Family, the valyrian steel longsword—'red rain'.
This sword was not a traditional greatsword or bastard sword; it was slightly larger than a one-handed sword and slightly smaller than a bastard sword. It was clear its history was very ancient.
The blade of red rain was slender, its surface crimson as blood, and under the sunlight, one could see the rippled patterns unique to valyrian steel.
The hilt was made of some kind of ironwood, and the crossguard was shaped like two fingers of a skeletal hand.
"I originally wanted the other one, Nightfall."
Daeron tested the feel of red rain and found it was a better match for Dark Sister, which improved his mood.
He took the scabbard from Lord Dunstan's waist and sheathed red rain with a 'clink'.
"Prince, look."
Paxter pointed toward the gates of Pyke.
At this moment, a dozen Ironborn lords and captains stood in a cluster, watching the previous scene with cold detachment, not caring at all about who lived or died.
Daeron saw through their thoughts at a glance and said frankly, "Let's go, they have surrendered."