Chapter 53:
Outside Yunkai, the Pompey Expeditionary Force camp.
At noon, the world was as dark as ink.
The "Shadow of Asshai" summoned by the shadowbinder Quaithe had enveloped a battlefield ten kilometers across. This was not ordinary darkness. It had a thick, viscous quality, as if countless cold hands were stroking the soldiers' skin.
Zzzzt— Zzzzt—
The radios were filled with sharp static, as if countless vengeful spirits were screaming on the frequency.
"Don't come near! That's mine!"
"White Walkers! There are White Walkers here!"
The outer perimeter of the camp had already descended into chaos. Soldiers lost in the darkness were experiencing hallucinations. Some fired into empty air, while others even turned their guns on their comrades. Fear spread like a plague.
"Hold steady! Everyone stay in place!"
Jon Snow drew Longclaw. The Valyrian steel emitted a faint red glow, barely illuminating a few meters around him.
He looked around.
This was not just fog. This was a psychic attack.
…
Central command tent.
Although there were gas lamps inside, under the pressure of the black fog, the light appeared pale and flickering.
Daenerys sat in the main seat, her expression grave.
Victor was adjusting a complex piece of equipment.
Arya Stark, holding her "Needle," crouched like a vigilant cat in the darkest corner of the tent.
"Report, Your Grace."
A petite handmaiden entered carrying a tray with several silver cups.
"The soldiers outside are panicking. General Grey Worm asked me to bring some calming tea."
The handmaiden kept her head lowered, her voice trembling slightly, as if frightened by the scene outside. Her gait was slightly limping, as though she was injured.
Daenerys rubbed her temples and reached for a silver cup. "Set it down. Tell Grey Worm that he must…"
"Don't move."
A cold voice came from the corner.
Arya slowly emerged from the shadows, her thin sword raised and pointed straight at the handmaiden's throat.
"Put down the cup."
"Then tear off your face."
Daenerys's hand froze in mid-air. She looked at Arya in surprise. "Arya? She is Missandei's assistant. She has been with me for two years…"
"No."
Arya stared fixedly at the handmaiden, her eyes containing a killing intent that only one of her kind could understand.
"She is lying."
"Her limp is well imitated, but her center of gravity is too steady."
"And…" Arya sniffed. "She doesn't smell of calming tea. She only smells of… embalming fluid."
The handmaiden still kept her head lowered, but her previously trembling body suddenly became calm.
"In this world, that is a kind of talent."
"Unfortunately, you have betrayed the gods."
Whoosh!
The handmaiden suddenly raised her head.
On her originally delicate face appeared a grotesque smile, as if a mask had cracked open.
She hurled the tray at Arya and, at the same time, slid a black dagger from her sleeve with incredible speed, stabbing toward Daenerys who was right beside her!
A Faceless Man.
An assassin of the Many-Faced God.
"Careful!" Victor pulled Daenerys back while raising the revolver in his hand.
But Arya was faster.
Clang!
Needle shot out like a striking viper, precisely knocking aside the assassin's dagger.
"All men must die."
The assassin chanted in a low voice, twisting her body like a boneless snake around Arya's sword and slashing her dagger toward Arya's throat. This was the Faceless Men's signature technique — the "Dance of Water."
"All men must serve."
Arya replied coldly.
She did not retreat. Instead, she charged straight into the blade!
Just as the dagger was about to slit her throat, she ducked, slid, and countered with her sword!
Pfft!
Needle pierced through the gap in the assassin's ribs and straight into her heart!
The assassin's movements froze.
She looked down at the sword in her chest. The light in her eyes rapidly faded.
"You are… no one…"
Thud.
The assassin collapsed to the ground.
Her face began to twist and melt, finally transforming into the face of an unfamiliar middle-aged man.
Daenerys looked at the corpse on the ground, still shaken. If it hadn't been for Arya, she would be dead now.
"Damn Jaqen."
Arya wiped the blood from her sword. "That was my brother. It seems the Faceless Men have taken a big contract."
…
"Enough."
Victor looked at the corpse on the ground, then at the thick black fog outside the tent.
His patience had run out.
"These cultists think turning off the lights means they win?"
Victor gave a cold laugh and pressed the red switch on the device beside him.
"Physics Lesson Three: Light is an electromagnetic wave."
"Activate the Prometheus searchlight array."
…
Outside the camp.
Several trucks originally covered with tarps suddenly threw off their camouflage.
Revealed on top were massive, pot-lid-like carbon-arc searchlights.
These were specially prepared by Victor to counter "shadow magic." He had installed special alchemical lenses on the lamp housings (simulating sunlight spectrum / strong ultraviolet light).
Buzz—!!!
The high-power generators began to roar.
Whoosh!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Dozens of snow-white beams of light pierced the darkness like swords, shooting straight into the sky!
Wherever the beams passed, the thick black fog melted like snow hitting boiling oil, emitting a "hiss-hiss" scream and retreating madly.
"Ah!!!"
In the darkness, the shadow creatures (shadow demons summoned by Quaithe) ignited instantly when struck by the strong light and turned to ash.
The previously chaotic battlefield was instantly illuminated as bright as day.
The soldiers finally saw clearly — there were no White Walkers, no monsters, only the terrified Yunkai soldiers.
"That is…"
Quaithe on the walls of Yunkai was blinded by the intense light. The black wooden staff in her hand began to smoke and crack under the strong ultraviolet rays.
"An artificial… sun?"
…
"Now is our chance!"
Daenerys pushed open the tent and strode out.
She looked at Yunkai, locked in the beams of the searchlights, and the rage in her heart had reached its limit.
Assassination, black fog, sorcery…
She had had enough.
"Drogon!"
The queen's cry echoed across the camp.
Roar—!!!
A massive shadow rose into the air from behind the camp.
Drogon spread his wings and circled within the searchlight beams. His scales gleamed with red-black light in the strong glow, like a harbinger of doom.
Daenerys leaped onto the dragon's back.
She did not draw her sword. She simply stroked the dragon's neck gently.
"They like darkness, don't they?"
Daenerys looked coldly at the city below.
"Then give them light."
"Dracarys!"
Boom————!!!
A thick, red-black column of flame descended from the sky!
It was not just fire. It was the wrath of a dragon — the ultimate expression of magic.
The flames instantly engulfed Yunkai's city gates, swallowed the shadowbinder on the walls, and consumed the steel-skin legions still standing in shock.
Guided by the searchlights, Drogon became the most precise bomber.
Blazing flames spread through Yunkai.
Black fog?
In front of true dragonfire, all shadows had nowhere to hide.
Victor stood on the ground, wearing sunglasses, watching the grand fireworks display in the sky.
He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Magic against magic. Technology as support."
"This is the perfect combination."
At the top of Yunkai's Great Pyramid, the harpy banner burned away in the flames.
The tank tracks of the Pompey Expeditionary Force began rolling over the scorched earth, advancing into the city.
Tonight, Yunkai fell.
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