Chapter 177: A Dragonlord’s Wrath

The giant's head rolled away, its size dwarfed by the fury in Rhaegar's heart. Blood boiled through his veins, his entire body surging with untamed energy.

Under the flames, he felt invincible.

Rising, he picked up the flaming Dragon Claw with one hand and gripped his spear with the other. His eyes, sharp and cold, scanned the Mountain Clans, who now hesitated to advance.

After killing the Half Giant, the flames around him intensified, dancing wildly in the wind.

Rhaegar advanced toward the gathered Mountain Clans, his arms spread wide, head held high, and bellowed:

"Come on! Kill me! Kill a Dragonlord!"

Fear gripped the Mountain Clans as they stared at the fire-wreathed silver-haired boy.

Continuing forward, Rhaegar pointed his spear at them, his voice booming, "I am Rhaegar Targaryen. I am Rhaegar Targaryen! Who dares to take my life?"

His voice echoed through the Vale, reaching every ear.

At this moment, he was fearless.

With the bloodline of the Dragonlord and the talent of a Pyromancer, he was no ordinary human being.

The Mountain Clans retreated further, pushing and shoving each other, none daring to be the first to attack.

A young man engulfed in flames had slain the strongest descendant of giants in the Vale, a spectacle that transcended their comprehension.

In their eyes, Rhaegar was no longer human. He was a fire god who had performed a miracle.

Up in the canyon, the Mountain Clans leader, eyes wide with disbelief, shouted frantically, "Kill him! He's exhausted, kill him!"

He had met the Flame Witch of the tribe and knew the will of the God of Flame. The fire-bathing boy before him had to be a fake.

"Fake!"

Hearing the commander's order, the Mountain Clans forced themselves to stop retreating, trying to resist the urge to flee.

Rhaegar continued to advance, his expression indifferent. With each step, he closed the distance between them.

The Mountain Clans gripped their weapons tightly, their fear palpable.

"Go! He is alone!"

A shout came from the crowd, and the Mountain Clans, overwhelmed by the intensity or unable to cope with the fear, rushed forward in a swarm.

Rhaegar's face remained calm and unperturbed, his spear and sword at the ready.

The distance closed rapidly, and soon their weapons clashed.

"Roar!!"

Suddenly, a dragon's roar echoed through the sky, and a vast shadow enveloped the entire Vale.

Boom...

Ghostly green Dragonfire cascaded from the sky, a torrent engulfing half of the Vale. The Mountain Clans didn't even have time to scream; they were incinerated instantly, turned to ash within moments.

Rhaegar tilted his head back and closed his eyes, standing resolute in the Dragonfire.

Nearby, everything—rocks, grass, trees, and even iron weapons—had melted away, leaving a vast expanse of scorched earth. In the eerie green glow of the Dragonfire, only Rhaegar's reddish aura remained.

Half a second later, the flames ceased.

Cannibal's immense black form hovered above the Vale, its green eyes blazing with madness, dragonfire still spewing from its maw.

"It's over."

Rhaegar opened his eyes as the flames on his body gradually extinguished. Looking around, he saw nothing but devastation; no survivors remained.

Turning back, he saw the two carriages, miraculously unscathed by the Dragonfire.

Suddenly, his ears twitched at a faint sound.

His gaze locked onto the upper part of the canyon. The leader of the Mountain Clans had crawled up from the ground, running in a panic.

A faint sting in his left shoulder made Rhaegar smirk.

The dark arrow had hurt him, but the leader wouldn't escape.

He picked up his spear and hurled it.

The spear cut through the air, and with a swift descent, it pierced through the fleeing leader's chest, pinning him to the ground.

A mouthful of blood spurted out as the leader writhed and wailed in agony.

Rhaegar's eyes flashed as he switched Dragon Claw to his right hand and climbed the hill to the canyon's top.

Jogging to his opponent, he saw the pleading look in the leader's eyes.

Rhaegar hesitated.

Then, with a swift motion, he swung his sword several times, severing the leader's limbs.

He had intended to extract useful information, but the leader's expression revealed nothing.

"You don't deserve a quick death."

Pulling out his spear, Rhaegar staggered, almost collapsing.

"Roar..."

As the battle's adrenaline waned, sharp pain surged through his body. Rhaegar sucked in a breath, his mouth twitching from the agony.

It hurt too much! Especially the wound in his lower abdomen, as if someone had yanked out his intestines, cleaned them, and stuffed them back in.

"Roar..."

Cannibal swooped down, his wings casting a shadow over the land as he descended, his body blocking out the sunlight.

Sniffing the air, it detected the scent of blood as Rhaegar's wounds pulsed, blood gushing forth without the support of flames.

"Rhaegar!"

Rhaenyra's panicked scream pierced the air. She bolted from the carriage, tears streaming down her cheeks, scrambled up the hill, and threw herself at Rhaegar's side like a possessed woman.

Rhaenyra had stayed hidden, knowing she would be a liability to Rhaegar in the midst of the Mountain Clans' siege. But with Cannibal's return, she was overwhelmed with relief and rushed to her brother's side.

"Oh... your wound..."

Rhaenyra covered her mouth, tears flowing freely as she examined the heavily bleeding wound, her heart breaking at the sight. This was the brother she'd raised since childhood, their bond deeper than blood.

Suddenly, she thought of something.

"Rhaegar, bear with it."

Gritting her teeth, Rhaenyra tore at the fabric of her skirt, hastily wrapped her arms around Rhaegar's waist, and clumsily fashioned a bandage to stop the bleeding.

Rhaenyra grimaced, sweat beading her forehead as she supported Rhaegar's weight against her body as his legs gave out. The wound was severe and he couldn't use his waist.

"Just a little longer, we need to stop the bleeding," she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears as she worked frantically.

"We need to leave," Rhaegar rasped, enduring the pain as he leaned heavily against Rhaenyra's shoulder.

He hadn't felt the extent of his injuries during the battle, but now the pain was searing.

"We can't go to Eyrie, it's too far," he continued, his voice strained. "Back to Runestone. It's risky, but we have no choice."

Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat. "But what if there's a traitor in Runestone?"

"We must risk it," Rhaegar insisted. "The Mountain Clans may have only sent a fraction of their forces. The rest could be waiting in Runestone."

Runestone housed many of the Vale's nobles. If it fell to the Mountain Clans, chaos would ensue.

Rhaenyra hesitated, fearing the danger. "Gulltown?"

"Not safe either," Rhaegar replied. "Runestone it is. We'll rally the nobles and prepare for the worst."

"Okay," Rhaenyra nodded, resigned. "Let's get you on Cannibal."

With great effort, they helped Rhaegar onto Cannibal's back, the dragon obediently lowering itself for its rider.

(Word count: 1,154)