In the rainstorm, Aemond began to manipulate the reins.
"Quiet, Vhagar."
Vhagar's huge cavernous nostrils spewed out two hot white vapors and let out a dull roar like the collapse of a mountain.
Then her giant wings, which were disproportionate to her massive body and had a wingspan of nearly 100 meters, flapped with all their might again!
The ancient muscles stretched under the scales, the screams of her wings cutting through the air overwhelmed the wind and rain, and the huge dragon body turned into a gray shadow that tore the night sky, chasing toward Jacaerys and the others with a suffocating sense of oppression.
To the left of Vhagar, a little further forward, the black dragon Lothron flew in a completely different manner.
He did not have the crushing weight of Vhagar, but instead moved with palpitating and extremely fast agility.
With a wingspan of nearly 20 meters, he shuttled freely in the rainstorm, and his pure black scales only outlined his smooth and powerful form in the occasional lightning flash, while his dark red and gold vertical pupils burned with the anger of his master.
He emitted a low, short, threatening roar of hunting excitement.
He did not need a clear command—the bond of blood allowed him to fully understand his rider's intent: death.
Helaena's dream fire tried to follow, and the silver-blue female dragon looked uneasy, letting out soft whimpers from time to time.
Helaena's face was pale as paper in the light of the lightning that occasionally pierced the sky.
She saw the increasingly clear fire in the dragon's lair, and saw the figures of the three young dragons in the eastern sky, desperately fleeing eastward.
"Seven Gods…" she muttered, hovering over Dreamfire.
Aemond, at this moment, was highly focused.
Three targets: three young dragons, wounded, panicked, fleeing east… The route, speed, and state instantly formed a clear hunting plan in his mind.
Use Vhagar to press from the opposite side, and let Lothron pursue and clear the flanks… the tactics were clear and precise.
His gaze was especially focused on the black dot flying at the end, staggered and lagging.
Tyraxes was injured—the most fragile and the easiest breakthrough.
"Fly, Vhagar. Catch up with them," he whispered again.
At the same time, Aemond looked at Lothron flying beside him, and when their eyes met, Lothron completely understood his master's meaning.
The target—the last one—would die.
The blood-red light in Lothron's vertical pupils blazed.
He no longer roared, but concentrated all his energy into his wings and began to flap with full force.
The black dragon's speed soared instantly, and his already leading position quickly widened the gap from Vhagar, cutting through the rain and tearing the wind.
He took a straight, brutal pursuit route toward the rickety figure at the end of the fleeing group: Joffrey Velaryon and his Tyraxes!
"Joffrey! Behind! Speed up!" Lucerys was the first to look back and saw the little black dragon Lothron coming through the rain.
That speed… too fast, faster than he had known dragons could be!
Joffrey also heard the strange sound of air breaking behind him, and he turned back in horror.
In the darkness, he only saw two rapidly enlarged vertical pupils burning with golden flames.
"Tyraxes! Quick! Quick!" he urged, crying and desperately slapping the dragon's neck.
But the injured Tyraxes had done all he could.
The heavy wound to his hind leg not only caused severe pain and blood loss, but also seriously affected his flight balance and power.
His speed could not increase, and was slowly decreasing.
In a few breaths—just a few!—Lothron's hideous dragon head, sharp horns, and gleaming teeth appeared clearly in Joffrey's eyes.
He could even smell the young dragon's more violent sulfurous breath, different from Vhagar, mixed with pure appetite.
No warning, no temptation, no time to fear.
Lothron's execution was clean and precise.
At the moment of entering optimal attack distance, he slightly adjusted his stance, and with a violent dive, the claws of his right hind limbs—harder than steel—tore through the rain and slammed against the back of Tyraxes' relatively slender and fragile neck.
This was right in front of where the rider sat!
"No!" Joffrey let out the last scream of his life.
The next second:
"Hiss!!"
"Click!!"
The mixed, loud sound of muscle and fascia tearing, and the cervical vertebrae being crushed and shattered by immense force, overwhelmed the wind and rain, briefly drowning out Tyraxes' sudden cry.
Lothron's claws were deeply embedded in Tyraxes' flesh and scales, stabilizing himself, while his jaw—far stronger than dragons of his age—snapped down on the top of Tyraxes' neck where the claws were clasped.
Then, with the momentum of the dive and full contraction of his neck muscles, he shook his head violently, tearing the dragon apart.
"Pfft, wow!"
The dragon's head, along with a large piece of flesh and bone from his neck, and Joffrey Velaryon riding there, were torn from the body by irresistible force!
Blood no longer gushed, but burst like a waterfall, a huge mist of red splashing instantly in the rainstorm.
The headless Tyraxes' body stiffened, losing all strength, wings drooping, the corpse uncontrolled, and yet the young rider's body remained clasped to the neck.
They rolled together, falling straight into the black waters of Blackwater Bay.
By the dull sound of water hitting, all traces of Joffrey Velaryon and his Tyraxes were quickly engulfed in the waves.
"Brother!!"
Jacaerys and Lucerys looked back, roaring in grief.
Lucerys' eyes darkened, almost causing him to fall from Arax's back.
That was their youngest brother! The timid Joffrey who always followed, bright-eyed, listening to stories from his brothers!
Right before his eyes, in such cruel, merciless fashion, he was torn apart and erased!
Witnessing this bloody scene, Lucerys' remaining courage and reason began to collapse completely.
Jacaerys' one-eyed gaze instantly turned bloodshot, boundless hatred drowning his grief, and a bestial roar tore from his throat:
"Ah!!"
But Lothron did not stop after the fatal strike.
His dark red-gold vertical pupils turned to the remaining two targets, blood dripping from his jaws, leaving fleeting red threads in the torrential rain.
Above them, the mountainous shadow of Vhagar, with an endless sense of oppression, approached at a seemingly slow but unstoppable pace, beginning to envelop Jacaerys and Lucerys.