Chapter 386: Vhagar Descends!

Under the twinkling stars, scarlet fire spread across Tyrosh.

Caraxes soared nimbly, hovering over the Archon's mansion and spewing Dragonfire furiously.

Two thousand mercenaries quickly rushed to their positions, hiding behind buildings and drawing their bows and hurling spears.

Caraxes didn't flinch, spewing fire relentlessly, ignoring the arrows crashing against his scales.

Occasionally gliding low, the dragon's back exposed Daemon.

"Shoot the arrows and target the dragon rider!" a mercenary yelled, eyes gleaming as if he saw a mountain of gold.

Bows and spears fired faster, creating a cage of projectiles.

Daemon looked down and said indifferently, "Fools."

"Roar..."

Caraxes roared harshly, spreading its wide scarlet wings to shield himself, deflecting most of the projectiles.

As a battle-hardened dragon, its scales were strong and wing membranes tough, out of the usual crossbow's damage range.

Turning his icy pupils towards the mercenaries, Caraxes landed violently, stretching its neck and spitting Dragonfire crazily.

The scarlet Dragonfire swept like a broom, leaving behind only screams and wails.

One person and one dragon wreaked havoc; the mansion's emergency bell rang, summoning guards from all directions.

Mercenaries inside the mansion fled, launching their scorpion crossbows and nimbly filling their steel spears.

Realizing the approaching danger, Daemon grimaced and commanded, "Fly!"

Caraxes stopped spitting fire, using his wings to push off the ground, soaring easily and rushing into the night sky.

No matter how the mercenaries aimed, they couldn't cause any damage.

Daemon looked down at the burning buildings below, eyes filled with disdain.

The pavilions were engulfed in flames, white stone walls smoldering and blackened, charred corpses and debris littering the ground.

Seeing the growing number of guards outside the buildings, Daemon's eyes turned cold, and he said, "Support the harbor."

In one fell swoop, they had broken the city's order, drawing the garrison to the mansion and creating an opportunity for the fleet's assault.

Unfortunately, he hadn't found that pig-like Archon to feed him to the dragon.

"Roar..."

Caraxes obeyed, spitting one last mouthful of Dragonfire at the arriving garrison before soaring towards the harbor.

At the same time...

Dozens of warships broke through the patrol ship's defenses and rushed into Tyrosh harbor with great force.

The horn sounded, putting the harbor on full alert and fortifications were manned to defend to the death.

Patrol ships returned, and a naval battle broke out with the Iron Throne fleet.

Within a quarter of an hour, the harbor was in flames.

...

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

The adjutant, driven away by Daemon, arrived at Lys Harbor on a smuggling ship and reported the information without delay. Daemon had initiated the war privately and forbade the ravens from spreading the news, forcing the adjutant to cross the disputed lands to deliver the report.

The news first reached the ears of the Sea Snake stationed in the harbor, then quickly made its way to the Magister's mansion.

Lys, the ruins west of the city.

Hundreds of elite soldiers of the Second Sons Regiment, clad in armor, stood in two rows, forming a wide passageway in the middle.

At the end of the passage, a huge dragon as black as charcoal lay prostrate, statuesque and motionless as it slept.

Tap...

At the other end of the passage, the sound of powerful footsteps slowly approached.

Rhaegar, dressed in a pure black dragon rider armor, walked steadily down the passageway.

"Prince, war has broken out; you need to calm down," Johanna's face was grave as she followed closely, her slender legs keeping pace.

"I'm not losing my cool," Rhaegar's voice was calm, revealing neither happiness nor anger.

He knew that Daemon had a problem with him, and their feud had been buried ten years ago. But Daemon shouldn't have vented his dissatisfaction in this manner. War was a continuation of politics, and taking a city-state did not mean ruling it effectively.

Myr and Lys had just been captured, and Targaryen had yet to gain a firm foothold. Rhaegar did not want further bloodshed and preferred a softer approach to stabilize the situation.

At least, he wanted people to remember the "Battle of the Narrow Sea" not just for its blood and fire, but for Targaryen's justice, strictness, and tolerance.

Johanna quickened her pace but still fell behind, asking urgently, "The war has lasted three days; rushing over now won't help."

She thought the prince intended to stop the war or rally the remaining wealthy individuals. The presence of the rich was like a duck that laid golden eggs for a free-trade city-state.

"The situation has changed," Rhaegar replied as he reached the end of the passage.

Standing by the neck of Cannibal, he ground the dragon's scales twice before climbing the soft ladder woven with hemp rope. Smelling a familiar odor, Cannibal's nostrils stopped snoring, and its stern green vertical pupils instantly opened.

In a flash, a dull, oppressive odor swept through the air, mixed with a hint of ash stench, making it hard to breathe.

"Roar..."

Cannibal growled lowly and shook its massive body to stand, its pitch-black wings and hind feet slowly emerging from the rubble.

Rhaegar hung onto the soft ladder, swaying lightly, climbing onto the dragon's back and straddling the newly cast black steel saddle. After devouring Morghul, Cannibal had been in a deep slumber.

It was uncertain whether the dragon's flesh and blood provided nourishment or if Rhaegar's bloodline metamorphosis had boosted it, but Cannibal had grown noticeably in less than half a month. The rope net woven with special material broke, and the black iron saddle needed replacement.

Thus, Rhaegar had sought craftsmen to cast a new set of dragon rider equipment.

Boom...

Cannibal's vertical pupils were cold and unfeeling, and its wings slapped the rocks, triggering a ground tremor.

Johanna wanted to pursue the matter but was scared back by the dragon's aura, too afraid to approach.

"Calm down," Rhaegar calmed the giant dragon, bent his head, and said, "Notify the Sea Snake to deploy a medium-sized fleet of three thousand men and twenty ships, and rush to Tyrosh immediately."

"Yes, Prince," Johanna nervously replied, her expression frozen as she came into close contact with a adult dragon for the first time.

Rhaegar turned back and patted the dragon's back, "Let's go, partner!"

The pig he had raised had been slaughtered by Daemon prematurely, and the city-state could not afford any more accidents.

"Roar-"

Cannibal leapt up and zipped into the thin clouds.

"Roar..."

Another shrill roar responded as the light gray dragon shadow followed deftly.

Over a hundred thousand pairs of eyes within the city-state looked up in unison, the fear of being burned by the evil dragon striking their hearts once again.

Cannibal's appearance was menacing, and its dark dragon body resembled an evil god's descent.

The Grey Ghost hung behind it like a white specter.

It is likely that another city will be on fire this time.

...

Tyrosh.

"Roar..."

Caraxes let out a shrill cry, weaving through the city-state and spewing Dragonfire to wreak havoc.

Daemon rode on the dragon's back, his armor battered and pitted with arrow craters, his expression icy and intense.

Hundreds of high towers filled the city-state, each armed with scorpion crossbows aimed at the dragon and its rider.

Whoosh!

A steel spear flew past, grazing the broad dragon wings.

Daemon glanced back and forth and commanded, "Burn down that tower!"

Caraxes swiftly moved towards the attacking tower, unleashing a furious stream of Dragonfire.

"Ahh!"

"Shoot, shoot..."

Under the Dragonfire's intense heat, the tower's stone walls began to crack, the fire surging through doors and windows, incinerating the garrison inside.

Swish, swish, swish...

As one tower burned, several nearby towers launched a coordinated attack, their steel spears aimed at the dragon.

"Roar..."

Caraxes dodged hurriedly, abandoning the smoldering tower and climbing high into the sky.

The relentless attacks over three days and nights were testing the dragon's endurance. The frequency of Caraxes' wing flaps showed its exhaustion.

Realizing this, Daemon spoke in a deep voice, "Caraxes, let's go!"

He, too, hadn't slept for three days and nights, his eyes bloodshot and weary.

Caraxes, relieved by the command, quickly left the battlefield, disappearing into the clouds.

...

In the harbor, the flames of battle raged fiercely.

Boom!

The stone throwers launched their flints, heavily bombarding the enemy warships.

Daemon's fleet, forced out of the harbor, engaged in brutal combat with the Tyrosh fleet on the open waters. Both sides unleashed their stone throwers and scorpion crossbows with relentless fury. The warships shattered into splinters, and the decks became abattoirs of blood and flesh.

It was as if a colossal meat grinder had descended upon the blue sea.

"Fight for the Iron Throne!" a King's Landing knight roared, swinging his greatsword aboard a warship.

"All men must die!" the mercenaries bellowed, eyes gleaming with the lust for gold, sacrificing their lives in the deadly fray.

On the first night of the attack, Daemon's fleet had successfully raided the harbor, landing a significant number of soldiers. But the defenders, with their superior numbers, had managed to force them back.

Daemon, commanding Caraxes to dominate the skies, still couldn't prevent the relentless scorpion crossbow attacks. Forced to retreat, he redirected his assault to the city's buildings.

"Roar!"

Caraxes soared through the air, its vertical pupils scanning the warships bearing the banners of the Triarchy. Once again, it unleashed dragonfire.

Boom!

Dragonfire engulfed the ships, and the mercenaries on deck screamed as they leaped into the sea, their bodies aflame.

Daemon watched the destruction coldly, riding his dragon with ruthless ambition.

Caraxes, unconcerned about friendly fire, continued to spew Dragonfire indiscriminately, escalating the bloodshed.

The chaotic assault caused a riot.

A young officer with silver hair and dark skin from the Velaryon branch shouted, "Prince, we can't hold the harbor. We need to withdraw!"

In war, momentum was everything. After three days of relentless fighting, the soldiers were exhausted. Instead of pushing their limits and sacrificing more lives, it would be wiser to withdraw and recuperate.

Daemon's face was grim. He was determined to fight to the bitter end. The soldiers under his command could die, and dozens of warships could burn. He was even willing to risk his life and Caraxes' in the process. His pride wouldn't allow him to retreat in defeat.

"Roar!"

Caraxes sensed his rider's determination, roaring fiercely as he dove back into the fray, spraying Dragonfire and decimating enemy ships.

The dragon's fire seemed endless, its stamina unwavering.

After a grueling half-hour of high-intensity bombardment, an opening finally appeared in the enemy fleet. The Iron Throne's fleet quickly adjusted, pushing back the enemy troops and charging straight into the harbor.

Warships anchored, hook locks were thrown along the coast, and soldiers poured out.

Daemon led the charge, riding Caraxes at the front, two dozen scorpion crossbows in the vanguard. Man and dragon, unflinching, were determinated to carve a bloody path.

"Scorpion crossbows, prepare!"

Inside the watchtower, the mercenaries' faces were grim. They aimed their giant crossbows at the scarlet dragon.

Daemon's eyes gleamed with madness. His voice, hoarse from shouting, bellowed, "Dracarys!"

"Fire!"

Scarlet Dragonfire erupted as dense steel spears shot out, and the two sides clashed head-on.

In that moment of life and death, there was no retreat.

"Dracarys!"

Suddenly, a clear voice rang out, shattering Daemon's fierce resolve.

"Roar!"

A roar as loud as thunder echoed. A huge green dragon stormed the battlefield, spewing orange Dragonfire mixed with thick smoke.

The Dragonfire, fierce like an erupting volcano, melted the steel spears into molten puddles of iron.

"Roar!"

From the midst of the inferno, Caraxes surged forth, carrying an unharmed Daemon.

Daemon froze in astonishment, looking back.

He saw Laena's face.

"Roar!"

Vhagar roared deeply. Its massive body, resembling a giant mountain, unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire.

The intense heat melted stone and iron alike. The Dragonfire swept across half the harbor, incinerating everything in its path.

(Word count: 1987)