"Roar..."
With both wings shattered, Morghul couldn't contain its agony, roaring as it lost its ability to fly.
The heavy body fell, its massive jaws still locked on the Cannibal.
The two dragons, tangled in the air, descended rapidly, their struggle taking them lower and lower.
"Roar..."
As they fell, Cannibal flapped its wings to slow their descent, its green eyes flashing with cruelty.
Thick claws reached forward, gripping Morghul's chest, breaking through the scales and piercing the flesh.
In an instant, the chest tore open, and bright red dragon blood gushed out.
"No! Morghul, run away!" Red priest Belle cried out in grief, hanging in mid-air.
Though Morghul had been tamed through despicable means, the dragon had given him a chance to change his fate. With Morghul alive, Belle had value.
"Roar..."
Morghul ignored his rider's pleas, focused solely on the battle.
The pitch-black and silver-black dragons fell together, locked in a deadly embrace, tumbling like two tightly bound shadows.
They plummeted from hundreds of meters high, the wind howling around them.
Rhaegar clung to the Cannibal's back, gasping, his skin crimson like blood. His black robe had been burned away, leaving him nearly naked.
His exposed skin dripped with hot dragon blood, steaming as it flowed.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
Rhaegar's eyes glazed over, his chest heaving. The blood from both dragons seeped into his pores, pouring from the Cannibal's shoulders and Morghul's heart.
"So hot, my blood is burning," Rhaegar thought, his mind blank as if he were about to combust in the dragon blood.
"Roar..."
Morghul cried out in misery, dragon blood spurting from his chest, splashing onto Rhaegar.
The Cannibal's claws had hollowed out Morghul's chest cavity, bursting his massive dragon heart.
With his strength rapidly fading and life force draining away, Morghul ceased all struggle and resistance.
Only one thing remained.
Its massive jaws stayed locked onto the Cannibal's shoulder and neck, an unyielding grip born of obsession.
Dragon blood poured into Rhaegar's ears, nose, eyes, and mouth, leaving him drenched as if he had been fished out of a pool of blood.
"Morghul..."
Rhaegar, slightly disoriented, stood up from the slippery saddle.
The two dragons fell, one atop the other, with Morghul on his back, his dragon head right in front of Rhaegar. The hideous maw had bitten off a chunk of Cannibal's pitch-black flesh, its dark vertical pupils filled with inexplicable emotion—resolute, with a death wish.
Rhaegar's spirit lifted, and he stared straight into Morghul's eyes.
As Morghul's life faded, his giant mouth loosened its grip on the flesh, and his body fell like a reed in the wind.
Rhaegar's eyes widened as a wisp of black fire leaked from the corners of his eyes, flickering like fireflies.
Bang! Bang!
The dragon blood on his body seeped into his pores, his heart pounding like a drum.
Rhaegar's silver hair fluttered, his violet eyes took on green dragon streaks, and a surge of magic power erupted from deep within his bones and blood.
In the next instant, his entire body ignited in black fire, enveloping him.
Within the black fire, Rhaegar appeared god-like, a pitch-black dragon scale growing on his forehead.
"Roar—"
Cannibal sensed something, abandoned Morghul's body, and roared, its green eyes reflecting Rhaegar.
"No! No!"
Morghul continued to fall, and Red Priest Belle on his back shrieked in despair.
Rhaegar scowled at the sound, frost forming in his eyes.
He raised his right hand and the Lance of Dawn appeared.
He understood Morghery's feelings.
The dragon yearned for freedom and longed to return to the Smoking Sea rather than be tamed by humans through despicable means.
Morghul' attack on Cannibal was both an act of revenge and a desire for death.
Rhaegar sighed softly and whispered, "I'll help you be free."
With a sharp pull, Dawn was raised high, its tip aimed at the red figure on Morghul's back.
Lightning crackled, and the Valyrian steel tip gleamed coldly.
"Morghul, don't die!"
Red Priest Belle, with tears streaming down his face, clung to the silver and black back scales.
Pfft...
The lance shot forward, piercing Belle's face and shattering the back of his skull.
His body stiffened, his hands loosened, and he fell from Morghul's back.
Everything happened in an instant, a flash of light.
Boom—
Morghul's body crashed heavily, first into a high tower, then landing in a crumpled heap.
His tattered wings drooped, his dragon head fell to the ground, and blood and flesh spilled from his mangled torso.
Clattering...
The tower crumbled, burying the remnants of Morghul's body under stones, leaving only his massive dragon head exposed, mouth full of blood, and dark eyes growing dull.
"Roar..."
Morghul's gaze fixed in one direction, his throat emitted a final wail.
It seemed to reach out towards a domed dragon cave, or perhaps the distant Smoking Sea.
...
"Roar--"
Cannibal roared, its black wings spreading wide as it circled above Lys.
Rhaegar's face remained calm as the black fire around him faded, revealing his white porcelain skin.
He raised his hand and touched his left forehead, where a piece of black scale the size of a baby's finger had formed.
[Rhaegar Targaryen]
Talent: Dreamer (Gold)
Bloodline: Dragonborn (+53%)
Rune: Serpent (Blue), Bronze (Green)
Blood Sorcery: Enchantment Spell (Blue), Binding Spell (Green)...
Relic: Blood and Fire (Fire Resistance: 100%), True Dragon Blood (Fire Element Affinity: 100%)...
Evaluation: "Ancient bloodline reappears in the world, the original Dragonborns."
Rhaegar's eyes were clear as he murmured, "The bloodline has changed."
The Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord's bloodline had transformed into "Dragonborn," and the concentration had increased from (+49%) to (+53%).
Rhaegar speculated silently, "When the bloodline concentration exceeds half, the name changes as well?"
He noticed that "Pyromancer" and "Longevity" in the Talents column had disappeared, and the relics "Blood and Fire" and "True Dragon's Blood" had increased from (50%) to (100%).
"It seems like it's a complete metamorphosis."
Rhaegar felt a mix of emotions and some confusion about the changes to his body. There were no records of "Dragonborn" in Targaryen history, though ancient texts had mentioned it metaphorically.
The metamorphosis was most likely due to Morghul's lifeblood.
A sea breeze blew by, and Rhaegar felt the difference in temperature on his hot body. He looked down at his clean, white skin.
"Ahem..."
Coughing lightly in embarrassment, he took out a black robe from his space bracelet and covered himself.
Sensing a difference in his forehead, Rhaegar took out a mirror. A diamond-shaped pitch-black dragon scale had formed. With a thought, the dragon scale receded, blending seamlessly into his skin.
"Fortunately, no need to worry about exposure."
Rhaegar smiled, removing the blood-stained felt from the saddle and remounting the dragon.
"Roar..."
Cannibal glanced back at Rhaegar, its hunger abated, green vertical pupils deep as the abyss. The rider's transformation had brought about changes in the dragon as well.
"Dracarys!"
Rhaegar's voice was cold as he looked down at the tower still firing scorpion crossbows.
"Roar-"
Cannibal roared, its pitch-black body swooping down as Dragonfire blasted the ill-fated tower.
One man and one dragon seemed to have forgotten about the fallen Morghul.
...
Lys, Magister's Mansion.
Bambaro stood frozen in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his shocked expression almost making him look foolish.
Witnessing Morghul' demise with his own eyes, he felt utterly defeated.
After a long moment, Bambaro collected himself and muttered, "We must go. That Targaryen madman... it will be too late if we don't go now."
If a dragon could be killed so easily, what hope did they have?
"Where are you going, my lord?"
A slightly amused, magnetic voice came from behind.
Bambaro's nerves tightened as he turned warily.
A man in black robes, with brown hair and skin, and a short sword slung across his body stood before him.
"Who sent you?" Bambaro demanded, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't fathom where the mercenaries guarding the mansion had gone.
"You don't need to know that much."
The man, Syrio, bowed gracefully and said calmly, "Valar morghulis (All men must die)."
As the words fell, a dagger appeared in his hand and quickly sliced Bambaro's throat.
"Hoo~"
Bambaro's eyes widened as he clutched his spraying throat, collapsing helplessly to the floor.
Syrio saluted again, smiling, "Valar dohaeris (All men must serve)."
...
The same grim scene repeated itself across various parts of Lys.
The brunt of the chaos centered around the high towers of the garrison.
As crossbowmen concentrated on maneuvering their scorpion crossbows, their companions behind them suddenly raised swords, slashing their throats.
Within minutes, a third of Lys' high towers were engulfed in infighting.
The mutinous mercenaries were all marked by a strip of cloth intertwined with black and white roses on their collars.
...
Dome Dragonpit
"Run, the Dragonkeepers will catch up any moment!"
In the charred open area, two silver-haired figures sprinted, pushing and shoving their way into a narrow alley.
"Roar--"
Above the city-state, the black-as-charcoal dragon spewed Dragonfire, incinerating large swathes of the city center.
Denys bounced around, panting heavily as he carried a bag full of gold coins. "What are you hiding in your arms?" he asked breathlessly.
Hugh looked tense, his rough robe wrapped tightly around him, concealing a bulging stomach. At first glance, he resembled a tall, pregnant woman.
When Hugh ignored him, Denys rolled his eyes and provoked him, "Did you steal dragon dung from the Dragonpit?"
"Bullshit! I haven't even asked you what you're hiding in your bag!" Hugh snapped, glaring angrily like a dog whose tail had been stepped on.
Denys sneered, looked Hugh up and down, and then kept running.
The two fled through less crowded streets and alleys, heading towards the West City. The west side had just been scorched by the black dragon, leaving the guard force decimated and unlikely to face another attack soon. It was safer for the two fugitives.
Rumble...
As they ran, a crumbling tower overhead dropped stones, crashing down in front of them with a loud bang.
Denys was blown off his feet by the gust, rolling and crawling a long distance.
When he looked up again, his eyes widened in confusion.
A two-story-tall, immense, hideous dragon head came into view.
"Ah!..."
Denys, startled, scrambled backward in a frantic stomp.
Regaining his senses, he carefully observed.
The dragon's head drooped helplessly, its vertical pupils closed tightly, long devoid of breath.
Denys's heart pounded in his chest, nearly leaping into his throat.
Silver-black scales, exposed thick fangs, and a large puddle of dragon blood flowed from its jaw.
"Dead... dead..."
Denys swallowed hard and shakily rose to his feet.
Hugh crawled out of the rubble, his linen robe torn, revealing a familiar silver-black hue.
"Can you still run?" Hugh asked, wrapping his arms tightly around his bundle and glancing at Denys.
Denys's eyes widened in realization. "You stole a dragon egg?"
No wonder Hugh had risked his life to rush into the Dragonpit.
With his secret out, Hugh grinned. "This is the treasure Belle hid in the dragon's droppings, something I overheard."
Hugh slapped his chest proudly. "When the dragon egg hatches, we'll be rich."
Denys was skeptical. "You think the egg will hatch just like that? Besides, where are we going to run with it?"
Hugh grunted, "You have money, don't you? Let's hide in a small place in Essos. The dragon egg will hatch sooner or later."
Denys was speechless.
No wonder Hugh insisted on dragging him along. He wanted his money.
Hugh, feeling smug, scanned the black dragon hovering in the sky. "Don't dawdle. Are you coming with me or not?"
Denys hesitated but then clenched his teeth. "Let's go!"
"Then hurry up, there aren't any fishing boats left in the harbor."
Hugh chided, twisting his head and heading towards another alley.
Denys struggled to move his feet, glancing at the pitch-black dragon in the sky, his mind racing.
Should he go with Hugh or...
Making up his mind, Denys quickly followed Hugh. "Brother, I'll hold the money and see how long I can last," he whispered.
He pulled out the foot-long money bag, its bottom bulging with gold coins.
Hugh, not looking back, sneered. "What's the hurry? Wait until we're out of Lys."
"No hurry," Denys replied, his tone shifting. "You want money? I'll give it to you."
He swung the money bag, aiming the bottom filled with gold at the back of Hugh's head, and struck down violently.
Bang...
Blood splattered, and gold coins scattered to the ground.
Hugh's eyes rolled back, and he fell straight to the ground, his limbs spasming occasionally.
Cold sweat broke out on Denys as he picked up a rock and smashed Hugh's head, then pulled out the dragon egg from his robe.
The silver-black scaled shell, glowing ebony in the sunlight, matched Morghul's scales.
Ignoring the gold coins on the ground, Denys hugged the dragon egg tightly. Looking up at the pitch-black dragon in the sky, he muttered, "With this, I'll surely be able to earn a title."
(Word count: 2,164)