35: Chapter 35 The Firelight on the City Wall

The walls of Meereen were black. Not painted black, but the natural color of basalt. They absorbed light and heat.

Even after baking in the sun all day, they would still feel cold to the touch at night.

Now, they were no longer cold.

Every fifty paces along the city walls stood a bronze ballista.

The ballistae were taller than a man, and the bolts were thicker than an arm. The arrowheads were quenched in wildfire—that green, alchemist's mad-dog urine that exploded upon contact with air.

Behind the city walls were thirty thousand slave legions, five thousand Great Masters Private Soldiers, and two hundred armored war elephants.

The war elephants had scythes strapped to their legs and iron spikes embedded in their trunks; with every step they took, they carved a blood groove into the ground.

The commander-in-chief of the Great Masters coalition was named Malgo.

He stood in the command tower on the city wall, a monocular pressed against his right eye socket, watching the lights of the fleet on the distant sea. The fleet was not large, only a few dozen ships. Three-headed dragon banners hung from the masts, snapping loudly in the night wind.

Malgo lowered the monocular and laughed, revealing yellow teeth.

"Just this little force? Eight thousand Unsullied and two thousand Dothraki Cavalry. They want to take Meereen?" He tossed the monocular to his adjutant. "That Khaleesi is insane."

A person stood behind him.

Wrapped in a grey cloak, the hood pulled down low, revealing only a chin. The skin of the chin was grey, not the grey of a human, but the grey of frozen meat.

It was covered in a thin layer of frost crystals. The breath that escaped from under the hood was not white mist, but tiny, shattered shards of ice that clinked and clattered as they fell to the ground.

He spoke, his voice sounding like grinding ice.

"Lord Malgo, do not underestimate the enemy."

Every word radiated cold air.

"That dragon is no ordinary dragon. I can smell the stench of 'evolution' on it. It is a target that the Master has specifically ordered to be eliminated."

Malgo turned his head to look at him. A smile still hung on the corners of his mouth, but the amusement in his eyes had vanished. He had only known this grey-cloaked figure for three days. Three days ago, he had woken up in the middle of the night to find this person standing by his bed.

The door was locked, the windows closed. He had come uninvited. Then, in front of Malgo, he had crushed a glass cup with his fingers—not shattered it, but ground it into powder. His fingers hadn't even gotten wet.

Malgo had asked who he was. He said he was a vanguard officer of the Abyss Demon Realm, named Ice Scum. Malgo hadn't dared to ask what the Abyss Demon Realm was.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Malgo asked.

The grey-cloaked figure reached out a hand from beneath his cloak. The fingers were slender, with ice-blue fingernails.

The skin was covered in a thin layer of frost crystals. On the back of the hand were runes—not tattoos, but carvings. They were carved deep, their edges glowing with a faint blue light.

"I have prepared a special gift for it."

He lifted a black cloth behind him. Beneath the cloth was a short spear, crystalline throughout, with ghostly blue Ice Fire flowing inside. The shaft of the spear was covered in runes—not human writing.

They were the runes of the Others. Each rune pulsed with a ghostly light, like the heartbeat of a living creature. One beat. Two beats. Three beats.

"During the ancient war against the Others, an ice dragon was once killed by the first Night King with an ice spear. The fragments of that spear were reforged by my Master using eight thousand years of frost power."

He raised the short spear, pointing the tip toward the direction of the distant fleet.

"As long as it dares to come—its fire will become its own funeral."

On the deck of the flagship, Drogon sat cross-legged beside the giant chunk of raw dragon glass.

His right hand pressed against the surface of the raw ore, his five fingers spread wide.

Several ghostly blue threads of light connected the scales at his fingertips to the ore. The threads drifted gently in the night, like seaweed underwater.

The raw ore was half the size it had been. When it was brought on board during the day, it had been as big as a small boat; now, it was only half the height of a man.

The remaining part was still being absorbed. The ghostly blue Ice Fire on the surface of the ore crawled up his fingers, reached his wrists, climbed to his elbows, and then disappeared into the gaps between his scales.

System pop-up: "Dragon glass ore absorption progress: 72%. Bloodline attribute +55. Continuously increasing. Current bloodline attribute: 980. Only 20 points away from the 1000-point threshold."

Then another message appeared. "Warning: Breaking through 1000 points will trigger the title 'Ancestor of All Dragons (Pseudo)'. Forced Dragon Might will cover a radius of one hundred miles. It is highly likely to be detected by the Dragon Senate's bloodline monitoring system. It is recommended that the host perform the breakthrough in a controlled environment."

Drogon did not open his eyes.

"A controlled environment? The siege of Meereen is the most controlled environment. Once I break through, the whole city will kneel, and victory will be won without a fight."

He paused. His slit pupils shifted slightly beneath his eyelids, toward the bow of the ship.

"Besides—before the siege, there is one thing that must be resolved first."

He opened his eyes and looked toward the bow.

Daenerys was still sitting in that rattan chair.

The blanket had slipped halfway down, revealing the thin strap of her nightgown. On the edge of the strap was a faint red mark—pressed by the bamboo strips of the rattan chair. Her head was tilted against the back of the chair, her silver-gold hair hanging down from the backrest, the tips trailing on the deck.

She was asleep. She had watched over him all night. She finally couldn't hold on any longer.

Drogon stared at her for a long time. The golden light in his slit pupils flickered on and off. The sea breeze blew over, and her hair stirred; a few strands of silver were lifted by the wind and then fell back. Her fingers were still clutching the edge of the blanket, gripping it tightly. She didn't let go even in her sleep.

"System. What are the conditions required for the dragonkind blood bond ritual?"

The system popped up a long text.

"Dragonkind blood bond. Core spouse contract.

Necessary conditions: Mutual consent. The mental level can accommodate unconscious instinctual consent. The contract initiator's bloodline attribute ≥ 1000 points. Performed during critical moments or on the eve of major battles, driven by dragon instincts.

Ritual core—the initiator bites through the vein in the recipient's wrist, injecting dragon blood while simultaneously absorbing a small amount of the other's blood. This forms a two-way soul link."

"Effects: Both parties permanently share partial life perception. Can perceive the other's approximate location, emotional fluctuations, and fatal dangers. The initiator can consume bloodline attributes to provide the other party with one 'Fatal Damage Transfer'. The number of uses refreshes each time a major rank is broken through."

"Risks: If the initiator dies, the recipient will suffer a massive soul shock. If the recipient dies, the initiator will fall into a 'Berserk' state. All attributes temporarily +50%, but they lose their sanity until their energy is exhausted."

"Note: In dragon society, this ritual is equivalent to the 'highest-level marriage covenant' in human society. Once signed, it is irreversible and cannot be abolished."

Drogon fell silent. His tail stiffened behind him. His slit pupils stared at the sleeping figure.

"...Will she agree?"

"If the host cannot confirm, it is recommended to delay. It can be done after the siege ends—"

"No. Before the siege."

Drogon stood up. He removed his right hand from the raw dragon glass. The threads of light broke. He turned his back to the ore and faced the bow.

"Because after the siege, all of Essos will know her name.

Those things hiding behind the scenes will come knocking. If I cannot give her protection that ensures she will never die, no matter what, then I am not worthy of calling myself her dragon."

He took a deep breath. The sea breeze filled his lungs. It was salty. It was cold.

"System. Prepare all prerequisites for the blood bond ritual. The moment I break through 1000 points—execute it immediately."