Chapter 51:
Essos, Slaver's Bay, the waters off Astapor.
The blazing sun scorched the red earth. The air was thick with heat and the stench of blood.
On the sea, a massive steel fleet blotted out the horizon. Huge smokestacks belched black smoke, announcing the arrival of the avengers.
On the command deck of the flagship "Targaryen."
Daenerys Targaryen wore close-fitting dragonscale armor, draped with the cloak of a Federal Marshal. She held a telescope and gazed at the city she had once liberated, now fallen back into darkness — the "Red City" of Astapor.
"They are well prepared, Your Grace."
Jon Snow (commander of the Northern Expeditionary Force) stood beside her, lowered his telescope, and frowned.
"The beach is packed with men. And… those things don't look right."
In front of the city of towering pyramids, the wide sandy beach was densely packed with defenders.
They were not ordinary slave soldiers.
This was an entire "Fearless Legion" composed entirely of "steel-skin" warriors. They fought bare-chested, their skin a sickly gray-iron color, muscles bulging and knotted. Their veins flowed with alchemical potions supplied by the maesters of Oldtown. They felt no pain, no fear. They wielded massive executioner's blades and spiked iron chains, roaring like beasts.
On the city walls, the "Good Masters" of Astapor hid under parasols, watching the sea with smug satisfaction.
"Come on, Mother of Dragons," one Good Master sneered. "Let your army come ashore and die. My precious babies haven't eaten meat for three days. Their blood will make a fine offering to the banners!"
…
"Pass the order."
Daenerys lowered her telescope. There was not a trace of mercy in her violet eyes.
"Begin the landing. Code name: 'Red Beach.'"
Woo—!!!
The fleet's steam whistles sounded in unison.
Dozens of specially modified steam-powered landing craft (flat-bottomed barges fitted with steam engines and bulletproof steel plates) carrying the first wave of assault troops surged toward the beach like an angry swarm of iron beetles.
"Prepare for contact!"
On the landing craft, Grey Worm gripped his new rifle and issued orders to the Unsullied soldiers behind him. They no longer carried spears and shields — they were now equipped with Federal standard gear.
"For the Queen! For freedom!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The main guns of the ironclad warships behind the fleet opened fire first.
203mm high-explosive shells bloomed into orange-red flowers of death across the beach. Sand and stone flew, severed limbs scattered.
But the steel-skin warriors were monsters.
Unless a shell scored a direct hit and blew them apart, even if shrapnel tore off half a shoulder, they would still stagger to their feet and continue roaring. The bombardment did not frighten them — it only awakened the bloodthirsty frenzy induced by the drugs.
"Charge! Crush them!" the Good Masters shouted from the walls.
Under the crack of whips, thousands of steel-skin warriors surged forward like a gray tide in the shallow water. They intended to drive the Federal troops back into the sea before they could gain a foothold.
…
Hiss— Clang!
The first landing craft slammed onto the beach.
The heavy steel ramp crashed down.
The steel-skin warriors were already within fifty meters. The nauseating smell of alchemical potions and blood washed over them.
"Hold steady! Do not panic!"
Jon Snow was the first to jump down, but he did not draw his sword and charge.
He directed a dozen strong Northern soldiers to push out a large object covered in thick canvas from the hold.
"Set up the position! Quickly!"
At the same time, along several miles of landing beach, dozens of similar scenes were unfolding.
There was no infantry charge.
Only rapidly established sandbag fortifications.
"What is that?" the Good Masters on the walls were stunned. "Why aren't they charging? What is that iron frame they're pushing out?"
They soon learned the answer.
The canvas was yanked away.
Revealed was a black steel reaper gleaming coldly in the sunlight — the Maxim Water-Cooled Heavy Machine Gun · 12.7mm Caliber Version.
The thick barrel was connected to a water-filled cooling jacket. A long brass ammunition belt had already been fed into the receiver.
Grey Worm personally sat behind one of the guns, both hands on the grips, thumbs resting on the red firing button.
He looked through the sight at the approaching, snarling steel-skin giants.
One hundred meters.
Eighty meters.
Fifty meters.
"For Lord Victor's 'Truth'…"
Grey Worm whispered coldly.
"Open fire!!!"
Ratatatatatatatatatata—!!!
At that moment.
The entire beach was drowned out by a terrifying, never-before-heard roar — like the sound of giant fabric being torn apart.
Dozens of Maxim heavy machine guns simultaneously spat out tongues of flame nearly a meter long!
Countless hot shell casings sprayed out from the side of the guns like fountains, clattering onto the sand.
For the charging steel-skin legion, this was nothing short of the end of the world.
12.7mm tungsten-core armor-piercing rounds, carrying terrifying kinetic energy, slammed into the crowd at 800 meters per second.
What keratinized skin strengthened by Valyrian blood magic? What alchemical potions that created bulging muscles?
In front of the crystallization of industrial civilization, everything was as fragile as paper.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
This was not the sound of bullets entering flesh — it was the sound of hammers smashing watermelons.
The front row of steel-skin warriors evaporated instantly in the metal storm!
The bullets did not simply punch holes — they tore their bodies apart! Arms, legs, even half a torso were ripped away and sent flying into the air under the massive kinetic impact!
Gray skin burst open. Black alchemical fluid mixed with red blood instantly dyed the yellow sand black and red.
"Ahhhh—!"
The steel-skin warriors behind were splattered with the shredded meat of those in front. The drug-induced frenzy was finally overwhelmed by primal biological fear.
They tried to stop, but the ones behind kept pushing forward.
They became living targets.
In just five minutes.
There was no longer a single standing enemy on the beach.
Only piles upon piles of still-twitching shredded meat and wreckage.
The parasols on the city walls fell to the ground.
The Good Masters of Astapor collapsed where they stood, their faces paler than those of their slaves.
"What… what kind of sorcery is that?"
"The whip of the Thunder God?"
On the sea.
Daenerys lowered her telescope and looked at the beach now soaked in blood.
Even she, who had witnessed entire cities burned by dragonfire, was shaken by this pure, efficient industrial slaughter.
"This is even faster than Drogon…" she murmured.
Jon Snow stood up from the machine-gun position and patted the still-steaming water-cooled jacket.
The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and scorched meat.
He looked at the stunned Northern soldiers and Unsullied.
"Did you see that?"
Jon's voice was slightly hoarse.
"This is what it means when the times have changed."
"Clear the battlefield! Establish defensive lines!"
"Next stop: the Great Pyramid of Yunkai!"
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