The Mountain's head rolled across the ground where dust and blood pooled, his lifeless eyes staring up at the gray sky.
Thick, dark red blood gurgled from the severed neck, which was as wide as a bowl, spreading uncontrollably and staining the center of Duskendale square with a shocking crimson.
The deafening sounds of slaughter, the dying screams, and the crisp clashing of swords and armor suddenly fell into a dead silence.
Silence weighed on everyone's heart like a cold, giant stone. Only the low whistle of the wind carrying blood-mist and dust echoed faintly with the suppressed sobs from the distance.
This silence was far more suffocating than the clamor; even breathing had to be light, as if a single heavy breath would bring about total destruction.
On the high platform, Tyrion Lannister stood frozen, his legs feeling like lead, yet also as if the bones had been removed, barely able to support his small body.
His heart, which had been seized from the clouds of ecstasy, was hurled into a bottomless abyss, twitching and beating coldly in his chest.
In his life, he had weathered many storms, schemed against kings, toyed with nobles, and hovered on the edge of life and death several times, but never had his mind been as turbulent and frantic as it was just now.
When Aegon first declared he was the judgment, he thought Aegon would trample over guest right, ignore the eyes of the world, and turn him, Cersei, and all the Lannister banners and Soldiers in the square to ash with a single breath of dragonfire.
In that moment, despair swallowed him like an icy sea, freezing even his soul.
But Aegon had granted a trial by combat.
Amidst the boundless fear, he had glimpsed a sliver of hope!
Ecstasy surged like lava, overwhelming his reason; he almost wanted to laugh out loud.
He firmly believed the Mountain was invincible, believing that with this human-shaped beast, he could at least save his and Cersei's lives, force Aegon back, or even strike back...
A Lannister always finds a way to survive, and this time would be no exception.
But now...
The Mountain was dead.
Dead miserably and completely.
That massive, terrifying body knelt in the pool of blood like a pile of scrap metal, his head rolling a few steps away.
The brute force he had once been proud of appeared laughable and weak under Aegon's precise and cold blade.
The last straw of hope had been cut down inch by inch before his eyes, crushed and discarded like trash.
Tyrion's face was ashen, his lips bloodless, and his entire body was bone-chillingly cold. His mind was a blank, leaving only a deep-sea despair to submerge him, as if he could hear the sound of his own blood freezing.
He stiffly and slowly turned his head, looking at the only blood relative beside him—his sister, Cersei Lannister.
With just one look, rage, contempt, and a piercing chill rushed to his head, making his vision darken and nearly causing him to faint.
Cersei stood there, her posture even more upright than before.
There was not a hint of fear on her face, no panic at the impending doom, and certainly no misery at the prospect of death.
Her green eyes gazed longingly at the figure standing in the field with dual swords, his pitch-black armor glinting coldly under the setting sun; her gaze was blurred, and her eyes were surging with undisguised lust.
It was as if the person before her was not the enemy who had just slaughtered her strongest knight and was about to take her life, but a king who had enchanted her soul, to whom she would willingly offer everything—the realization of an unattainable phantom from her youthful dreams.
Tyrion cursed viciously in his heart.
All his malice, fear, resentment, and contempt surged together, nearly breaking through his throat.
This fool! This hopeless, lust-driven woman!
He had exhausted everything, wracking his brains just to catch a sliver of hope in this desperate situation to save their wretched heads.
But what about her? She was actually lusting after this enemy who could pierce her or burn her to ash at any moment, staring at him with the eyes of a lover!
Sometimes he truly wondered if his elder sister's brain wasn't in her head, but between her legs.
Tyrion clenched his teeth so hard his gums nearly bled.
He knew he couldn't wait any longer; once Aegon regained his composure, they would be next.
Waiting for death was never his style; even if he were to die, he would splash the enemy with his blood!
He suddenly looked up and roared at the remaining Lannister Soldiers with all his strength, his voice hoarse and broken, carrying the madness of a dead end:
"He is only one man! Killing the Mountain has exhausted all his strength! Kill him! Only then can we live! Only then will Lannister have a tomorrow! Do it—!!"
The roar echoed through the silent square.
The Soldiers' bodies trembled as they barely regained their senses from the fear of the Mountain's miserable death and the dragon's majesty.
Survival instinct and the fear of Tywin's future retribution outweighed their current dread; they looked at Aegon standing alone on the high platform, then at the headless corpse below, their eyes flickering as they gripped their spears, blades glinting in the twilight.
A commotion of hesitation and fear spread through the ranks as weapons were slowly raised, pointing at the platform.
Aegon didn't even turn his head.
He simply raised a hand, a gesture as light as shooing a fly.
In the next moment—
Ghidorah, who had been resting quietly at the edge of the square like a golden mountain range, suddenly raised his three hideous heads.
The sky-obscuring wings, nearly three hundred meters long, unfurled with a boom.
A gale rose abruptly!
The golden dragon wings, covered in metallic scales, were like clouds hanging from the heavens, instantly swallowing the last light over Duskendale.
The entire square, the city walls, and the towers were all shrouded under a boundless shadow of despair.
The sturdy walls of Duskendale seemed as small as a child's sandcastle before this mythical beast.
Since Aegon had stepped onto the field to duel the Mountain, Ghidorah had remained lying quietly, never taking flight or roaring, like a dormant mountain range.
But now, with just a single spread of his wings.
Heaven and earth suffocated.
Countless thick, dazzling golden bolts of lightning burst from the edges of the wings, the electric light dancing like wild pythons in the twilight, the crackling explosions merging into one as white light filled everyone's vision, stinging their eyes and making them weep uncontrollably.
In the next instant, Ghidorah's three massive heads turned toward the platform simultaneously, opening their giant maws filled with sharp teeth as if to swallow the world...
ROAR————————————————!!!!
The triple-layered roar exploded like a world-ending thunderclap. Visible golden soundwaves of electricity swept across the ground, causing the square's stone slabs to crack inch by inch and sending debris flying.
The eardrums of nearby Soldiers and civilians burst instantly, blood trickling from their ears as they collapsed, clutching their heads and screaming.
Everyone's head felt as if it had been struck by a giant hammer, ringing incessantly, their souls trembling as if to shatter under the oppressive soundwaves.
After several breaths, the roar stopped abruptly.
The world fell into a deeper silence, leaving only the ringing in ears and the sound of falling stones.
Ghidorah slowly folded his giant wings, the shadow still looming like a mountain.
The three heads lowered along their long necks like three hanging peaks, quietly surrounding Aegon from behind.
Six vertical pupils like molten gold looked down, cold and indifferent, gazing at the cowering creatures on the platform and in the square as if they were already dead.
No one dared to move again.
No one dared to breathe loudly.
Even Tyrion lost all strength, his mouth open but unable to make a sound, leaving only his heart to beat futilely in his chest.
Cersei's gaze shifted from Aegon to the ashen-faced Tyrion, a piercing loathing flickering in her heart.
As expected, this Dwarf, this monster, was worthless. Other than messing everything up and pushing Lannister into a desperate situation, what else could he do? Father must have been blind to value him.
At this point, the only one who could save Cersei Lannister was herself.
Only her innate, ever-successful weapons... her beauty, her body, and her instinct for understanding men's desires.
She looked at Aegon again, at the black-armored figure standing majestically under the shadow of the three-headed golden dragon like a god.
When the dragon-wing helmet obscured the features she found annoying, revealing only the cold and perfectly hard lines of his jaw, this figure completely overlapped with the silver-haired, purple-eyed knight in ruby-encrusted armor from her deep memories and recurring dreams.
No, the person before her was more charming than Rhaegar, more powerful, more desirable to conquer, and more desirable to be conquered by.
Cersei straightened her neck and slightly puffed out her chest, perfectly showcasing the exquisite curves outlined by her luxurious gown.
Her blonde hair brushed lightly in the wind, and a soft, seductive light rose in her eyes, quietly presenting her most alluring and vulnerable side to the man who held the power of life and death.
Her gaze pierced through the blood and cold wind, filled with admiration and submission as she gazed at Aegon.
Aegon held Blackfyre and Dark Sister, both swords pointing diagonally at the ground. Drops of blood slid slowly along the dark patterns of the Valyrian Steel, dripping onto the blood-stained wooden planks with an almost inaudible sound.
He walked slowly onto the high platform, his war boots stepping on the wood with a steady and clear sound, like a beat on the Lannister siblings' near-collapsing heartstrings.
He stopped before the ashen and trembling Tyrion, but he didn't look at him first, instead glancing sideways at the extremely coquettish Cersei.
That look was flat and emotionless, yet it made Cersei's heart skip a beat, followed by a surge of ecstasy... He noticed me!
Only then did Aegon look at Tyrion. His voice was slightly muffled through the dragon-wing helmet, but it carried an unquestionable coldness:
"You are very clever, Imp. You know very well that according to the customs of Westeros, the laws of blood for blood, and everything you did to the Targaryens back then..."
He paused, giving Tyrion a moment to think.
"Tell me, Lannister, what should the end be?"
Tyrion's lips trembled uncontrollably, and his throat was as dry as if scorched by fire.
He looked up at the black-armored figure before him, his mismatched eyes filled with bloodshot veins and despair.
He knew that any excuses or pleas for mercy were meaningless, and could only say the already destined conclusion in a hoarse, broken voice:
"Our family... will be destroyed. Casterly Rock will be taken, the treasury looted, and the banners torn down from all the castles, shredded, and burned."
"The Lannister name will be nailed to the pillar of historical shame, despised by all of Westeros for generations."
He spoke slowly, each word exhausting his strength, his voice containing only endless silence.
"Heh."
Aegon seemed to let out a light chuckle.
That laughter came from under the helmet, devoid of warmth, as cold as the ice deep within the Narrow Sea.
He no longer looked at Tyrion, pacing slowly as his valyrian steel armor made a faint, cold clinking sound.
He walked in front of the two siblings, scrutinizing these two pieces of spoils that were about to be crushed.
Finally, he stopped in front of Cersei.
Cersei's heart rate accelerated abruptly, nearly jumping out of her throat.
He chose to face her first!
She desperately suppressed the victorious curve of her lips, appearing even more weak and alluring, her eyes shimmering with desire as she made her neck and chest skin look even smoother in the twilight, standing slightly on her tiptoes like the golden rose swaying in the wind, waiting to be plucked, nearly pressing against the cold, hard armor.
Aegon raised his hand. His pitch-black gauntlet was slender and steady, carrying the scent of blood from just harvesting a life.
He slowly pinched Cersei's delicate chin.
The force was not gentle, carrying an irresistible dominance.
He forced her to look up and meet his gaze.
Through the helmet, Cersei couldn't see his eyes clearly, but she could feel that gaze penetrating the visor and falling coldly on her face.
Then, she heard that voice, deep as a celestial melody yet with a metallic quality:
"I won't do that."
Cersei trembled all over—a shiver of ultimate ecstasy!
A burning, greedy light erupted in her eyes, nearly scattering all her feigned weakness.
It worked! He couldn't resist after all!
No man could resist her charm, not even a true dragon!
He was stronger and colder than Rhaegar, but he was still a man! All men are the same!
She took the opportunity to make her body even softer, her gaze like water as she displayed all her temptation and submission, her tiptoes nearly causing her to fall into his embrace, her heart certain that she was about to be pardoned, pitied, or even possessed by this supreme being, gaining a status even more honorable than Queen Mother or Queen.
Aegon leaned in slightly, his dragon-wing helmet slowly approaching until the cold metal nearly touched her smooth forehead.
In the moment Cersei was most intoxicated, most smug, and thought victory was in her grasp...
He said in an icy voice that only the two of them could hear, each word distinct and clear:
"I won't do that... nor will I kill you immediately."
Cersei's ecstatic expression froze abruptly, and an ominous feeling instantly spread.
Aegon's voice was steady and cold, carrying a sense of destruction more scorching than dragonfire:
"I will keep you alive. I will have you 'well' looked after, in the strongest cage, with the tightest guard."
The fingers pinching her chin tightened slightly, bringing a surge of pain.
"I will let you live."
"Then, keep your eyes wide open and watch closely."
"Watch how the golden lion banner of Casterly Rock is set ablaze and turned to ash."
"Watch the main line of Casterly Rock, the Lannisport branch, starting from Tywin's bloodline down to the most distant collateral relative, as long as they have a single drop of lion's blood..."
His voice dropped even lower, like the hiss of a venomous snake:
"Men, women, old, young... one by one, dragged from their hiding places. Blood staining the steps of Casterly Rock, staining the docks of Lannisport."
"I will let you watch with your own eyes as House Lannister bleeds its last drop, how it is erased inch by inch from this land."
"How you will have no descendants, how your bloodline... will be completely severed."
"Back then, you were as ruthless as could be to the Targaryens..."
He let go of his hand as if he had touched something filthy.
The color drained from Cersei's face, the ecstasy in her green eyes replaced by boundless fear and disbelief, her body trembling violently like a fallen leaf.
Aegon stepped back half a pace, his gaze sweeping over the wooden-faced Tyrion and finally landing on the weeping Cersei, whose makeup was entirely ruined. His voice suddenly rose, the sound of judgment echoing across the platform and into everyone's ears:
"Today, I shall be a hundred times, a thousand times more ruthless than you!"
"Since you dared to do it back then, you should be prepared—"
"For the price of total severance of your bloodline!"
As his words fell, the platform was in dead silence.
Cersei's legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud, her luxurious skirts covered in dust and blood.
She opened her mouth but could not make a sound, tears mixing with powder to form two dirty streaks on her pale face, her eyes filled with nothing but total fear and collapse.
Tyrion closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the bone-chilling air. He knew it was all over.
Lannister was finished.
Not defeated by war, not by schemes, but by a cold, cruel, and total revenge that was seventeen years late.
Aegon no longer looked at them, treating them like two pieces of irrelevant trash.
He turned to Oberyn and nodded slightly.
Oberyn understood and waved his hand.
Several Soldiers immediately stepped forward, dragging the completely broken Cersei and the ashen-faced Tyrion off the platform like dead dogs, toward a long and desperate cage.
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