Chapter 90: The Terrifying Might of the
Dragonlord
Tyrosh, Dionysus Fountain Square
"Wooo... wooo..."
"Clang, clang, clang..."
At this moment, Tyrosh was completely drowned in the blare of horns and the ringing of alarm bells. City Watch soldiers and regular troops rushed everywhere, reinforcing key positions across the city.
Under the assault of the Chainbreakers, the rebelling slaves, and the mercenary forces, the entire city had fallen into utter chaos. Those who had long lurked in the shadows seized this opportunity to emerge and sow further disorder.
"Clomp... clomp..."
Amid the steady, rhythmic march of the heavily armored infantry, Jon led more than a hundred elite soldiers to a position near the center of Dionysus Fountain Square after breaking through the encirclement of the Silver Stag Legion.
Commander Saeraes Moss had reacted swiftly, dividing his troops into multiple detachments. The same guerrilla tactics that Narsas had used earlier were now turned against the Chainbreakers.
Unlike the rebels, the Silver Stag Legion knew the terrain intimately. With the support of Tyroshi mercenaries, they struck from all directions, turning the battlefield into a fragmented maze of skirmishes.
The Chainbreakers fared better due to their discipline, but the mercenaries suffered greatly. Though fierce in a direct clash, their poor organization left them vulnerable in unfamiliar terrain.
Soon after entering the square, Jon received urgent signals from Narsas.
Urban warfare—street-by-street fighting—was the worst-case scenario. The enemy held the advantage of familiarity, and for the moment, Jon had no efficient way to counter it.
Dragonfire could solve everything—but it would leave nothing but ruins.
And Jon did not intend to rule over ashes.
Thus, he made a decisive choice: regroup.
The scattered slave forces that had been effective at the beginning were now becoming a liability. Their lack of coordination reduced their usefulness.
Jon's priority became clear—reorganize the three fragmented slave groups.
From the intelligence relayed by Narsas, the rebel forces had split into three positions:
Narsas and his core force had retreated into the Temple of the Three-Faced God
Another group held the Temple of Pleasure
The last had fortified themselves inside a sept of the Faith of the Seven
Using these strongholds, they resisted the Tyroshi counterattacks.
"Crack... BOOM!"
A bolt of lightning tore through the battlefield, blasting open a gap in the Tyroshi ranks outside the temple.
Without hesitation, Jon surged forward, Dark Sister crackling with lightning as he charged straight into the enemy formation.
"Lord Jon!"
The Chainbreakers erupted in cheers.
To many Westerosi soldiers among them, legends of were well known—but witnessing Jon's power firsthand, they realized even that monstrous knight might not compare.
In his Dragonlord state, Dark Sister—now wielded like a greatsword—was enveloped in lightning.
A shimmering electric aura formed around Jon's body.
"BOOM—CRACK—AAAH!"
With a sweeping strike, two Tyroshi soldiers were sent flying, their bodies numbed and charred mid-air.
"Archers, ready!"
A sharp command rang out from behind the Tyroshi lines.
"Swish! Swish! Thud!"
Arrows rained down in overwhelming numbers.
Even Jon could not ignore such a barrage. He retreated behind the shield wall as the heavy infantry raised their iron shields to absorb the attack.
"Lightning."
The moment the arrows ceased, Jon retaliated.
Another explosion of lightning tore through the enemy ranks—
—but this time, the effect was weaker.
Jon's gaze shifted toward a towering statue at the temple entrance—the idol of the Three-Faced God.
After his previous encounter with the Black Goat of Qohor, he already suspected—
the gods of Essos could interfere with his power.
Then—
a strange surge flowed through him.
Dark Sister shifted into staff form, gathering immense energy.
"BOOOOM!!!"
A devastating lightning strike erupted.
This time, the effect was catastrophic.
A large section of the battlefield was scorched black. Some soldiers were reduced to charred remains instantly.
This was no ordinary spell—
It resembled a critical strike, a sudden amplification of power beyond normal limits.
"Monster!"
"Save us, Three-Faced God!"
The Tyroshi soldiers finally broke.
"Slay them!"
Jon advanced again.
His black armor, soaked in blood, gleamed under the flickering light. His crimson cloak whipped violently behind him.
A spear thrust toward him—
He answered with a single strike.
The soldier—and the spear—were cleaved in half.
"Splatter—!"
Blood, flesh, and fragments filled the air.
Some soldiers choked on blood as they screamed.
Dark Sister crackled softly, stained red.
At this moment, Jon looked less like a man—
and more like a demon of war.
"Die, monster!"
"Run!"
"Someone save me!"
The Tyroshi army collapsed completely.
Some attacked in madness.
Others fell to their knees in despair.
Their cries in various Valyrian dialects echoed around him.
And strangely—
Jon felt nothing.
Since when had death stopped frightening him?
Perhaps since that long, incomprehensible dream...
"Lo... Lord Jon?"
When Jon finally reached the temple gates, even the Chainbreakers hesitated.
The figure before them—drenched in blood, radiating killing intent—
hardly resembled their leader.
"Move. The outer forces are destroyed. Our brothers still need us."
"Y-Yes, Lord Jon!"
Only after hearing his voice did Narsas truly recognize him.
"Blech—!"
When the trapped slaves and soldiers emerged from the temple, they were immediately overwhelmed.
Severed limbs covered the ground.
Blood painted the steps.
Some collapsed and vomited at the sight.
Meanwhile, the heavy infantry began gathering prisoners.
Jon handed a portion over to the slaves for supervision.
Then, he selected a group of strong, able-bodied men and integrated them into his ranks.
"Advance. Before afternoon, we push the front line to the Purple Palace."
"Yes... Lord Jon!"
Even Narsas responded with a trace of fear.
Because now—
even allies could not help but feel it.
The overwhelming, suffocating aura of a true Dragonlord.
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