"Hiss... Gah!"
Caraxes, at a disadvantage, suddenly erupted. His vertical pupils glowed red with bloodlust, and his slender, snake-like body twisted wildly.
He was not small in size, stretching seventy meters long.
However, compared to Vermithor, the nearly century-old dragon stretching over one hundred and ten meters from head to tail, Caraxes was still no match.
The two dragons differed in size by one-third.
But being relatively small had its advantages.
Caraxes adjusted his posture, aiming his small hind legs at the bronze dragon's chest. His pitch-black claws pierced the scales and sank deep into the flesh.
"Hiss—"
The delicate nerves beneath the scales were damaged, and Vermithor felt stimulated. The uncontrollable anger in his heart gave him endless power.
Snap!
Caraxes's crimson pupils suddenly softened and wrapped around the bronze dragon's neck. Then, with a sharp bite, Caraxes clamped down on the relatively vulnerable center of Vermithor's neck.
It tried to strangle the dragon, but the dragon's stubborn hold denied it a chance.
Its only option was to close its jaws tightly and sink its jet-black fangs firmly into the bronze dragon's neck.
"What kind of move is this?"
Aemon gaped in astonishment.
Caraxes's slender neck wrapped around Vermithor's neck, bringing it within striking distance of Vermithor's back.
Before Aemon stood Caraxes's slender neck, its muscles bulging and its crimson scales trembling slightly.
The mature dragon unleashed all its might, its blood rapidly heating up and coursing through its body like molten lava.
Even from a distance, Aemon could feel waves of heat wash over him.
Unlike the usual sulfur-tinged dragon stench,
This time, it was a dark, bloody odor.
It was as if every drop of blood had been squeezed from its veins and was bursting forth with the heat radiating from the opening and closing of its scales.
Man and dragon seemed to be in sync.
Swish!
Daemon hesitated for a moment, his gaze hardening. He stood up and drew the Dark Sister, his clan's sword, from his waist.
Without hesitation, he leaped onto Vermithor's back when the two dragons clashed.
"Surrender, boy!"
Daemon shouted, clasping his hands around the hilt of the Dark Sister and lifting it above his head. As the blade approached Aemon's neck, he swung it.
He could change the blade's trajectory if Aemon begged for mercy.
Aemon looked up in shock, never having expected the other to use that same trick on him.
The night was dark, the sky filled with blinding black clouds.
The Dark Sister slashed from the side. Her slender, silver-gray blades gleamed with a dark glow as if swallowing time and temperature, concentrating the entire moment in one blow.
She was so fast that no one could dodge her.
"Dream on!"
Aemon, already prepared, launched a fierce counterattack.
In that critical moment, he brought his two hands together.
His left hand untied the dragon saddle chain from his waist while his right hand drew his sword, the Lady of the Void.
Clang!
The sound of metal clashing echoed like the final note of a broken harp string. The Lady of the Void was thrust upwards and collided with the lightning-fast Dark Sister.
The two Valyrian steel swords collided violently, erupting in a flash of dazzling sparks.
It was as if two graceful ladies were dancing on the back of a dragon.
Daemon missed his strike and immediately bent his knees, cutting across his opponent's midsection as she rose and leaped.
Aemon twisted his right wrist, sending the Lady of the Void plummeting and squarely blocking the Dark Sister.
These interceptions negated the golden opportunity that Caraxes had created for the rider, giving Aemon an easy turn of events.
On the dragon-shaped ring on his right index finger, two red gems the size of rice grains, representing the dragon's eyes, flashed with a red glow.
Out of thin air, the cross-shaped Valyrian steel sword Lament appeared.
Aemon used the Lady of the Void in his right hand to attack and Lament in his left to defend himself. The two slender swords complemented each other perfectly, making them unstoppable within five feet.
"Damn it!"
Daemon said, feeling immediately defeated as he engaged the enemy.
His swordsmanship wasn't inadequate; rather, Dark Sister, designed as a one-handed sword, was slender and light, making it no match for the powerful force of the two figurine-shaped Valyrian steel swords.
"Shhh!"
Vermithor suddenly roared, and the dragon's back shook violently.
Caraxes had completely abandoned his defense, channeling all his strength into his upper body. His slender neck contracted, tightening around the bronze dragon's neck.
The dragon's sharp jaws crackled with a resounding crunch, threatening to sever its opponent's neck at the cost of damaging its own jaw.
This created another favorable opportunity for Daemon.
Standing downwind, Daemon's back swayed and his feet were unsteady. Drawing on his experience, he lifted his clan sword, Lament, and held it horizontally overhead.
Standing upwind, Daemon naturally gained a higher position, channeling all his strength to strike the Dark Sister down.
The strike caught both men by surprise and deflected off the dragon's back as it swung again.
Dark Sister did not land on Lament as they had anticipated.
Instead, it swung diagonally to the left, slicing through Aemon's left hand.
Acting decisively, Aemon released Lament and took a step back, using the sway of his feet as a guide.
With a swish,
The blade sliced through his skin, sending blood cascading down his wrist.
He looked down and saw a half-centimeter-deep gash on his left wrist, blood pouring out as if from a slit.
Lament, the clan sword, had slipped from his hand and vanished.
Aemon's eyes darkened slightly. He tore off a piece of his expensive sleeve and deftly bandaged his wound.
He was afraid of pain.
He was extremely afraid of pain.
That's why he constantly built up his defenses.
Tonight, his skin was broken for the first time in recent years.
But now, he felt no pain. His entire body was numb, and his mind was eerily clear.
His fighting genes were activated, making his body stronger than ever.
"Daemon, what tricks do you have left?"
Aemon said calmly, his right hand holding Lady of the Void in a flowery pattern.
Daemon's face remained expressionless, his chest rising and falling slightly with his breath.
Physically, he was at a disadvantage.
"Hiss—"
Suddenly, the dragon's back lurched up and down, and Vermithor launched a counterattack.
Faced with Caraxes's cunning tangle, Vermithor's nearly century-long experience quickly yielded a solution.
The bronze dragon arched its waist like a bowstring, thrusting its massive claws upward and piercing the scarlet dragon's vulnerable underbelly.
Its claws, as sharp as copper foil, slashed downward and ripped it open with a swish.
"Hiss... Snap..."
Caraxes roared as the scales on its abdomen shattered and blood gushed profusely.
Vermithor's counterattack wasn't over yet.
After severing its opponent's left wing, Vermithor's dragon snout flared and belched a stream of copper flames skyward.
Its neck was trapped, denying it the opportunity to bite back.
As the flames rose and descended, the dragon flapped its massive brown wings and swooped down.
Entwined in its flank, Caraxes was completely exposed to the flames, forced to withstand the terrifying heat that could melt stone and steel and char gravel into glass.
A puff of white smoke, reminiscent of a barbecue, rose as Caraxes's back was scorched and its crimson scales were charred black.
Even the expensively crafted saddle was reduced to slag by the flames.
Vermithor swayed left and right, trying to throw the dragon off.
Caraxes ignored him, clenching his teeth on the bronze dragon's neck.
Its black fangs sank into its flesh, its bite tightening and tightening. Determined to kill, even at the cost of their own lives, Caraxes clung to his prey.
The fierce struggle left the two riders on the dragon's back unable to take care of themselves.
Aemon stood behind the saddle, his left hand wrapped around the chain to keep from falling.
Daemon stood in front of the saddle, one leg locked on the handle to mitigate the risk of falling.
For a moment, the struggle between dragon and man became entangled.
The two dragons were enormous black shadows against the dark night sky. Their flames were so bright that the residents of Riverdale below feared the sky itself would burst into flames.
Silverwing and Greyshadow circled in the sky, aroused by the scene and roaring nervously.
Without instructions, however, they didn't rush forward.
A moment later,
"Hiss!"
A fifth dragon's roar seemed to echo from the river valley, and a flash of red lightning suddenly appeared in the bright night sky.
"Calm down, Meleys!"
Rhaenys, riding her "Red Queen," Meleys, hurried over. Seeing the two dragons entangled, her eyes widened, and she shouted, "Don't dare approach!"
Meleys, an experienced dragon, landed on the shores of the Long Lake to catch her breath.
The nonstop journey from King's Landing to the river valley took an unimaginable toll on her energy,
This was especially true for the already swift dragons.
They depend on short bursts of power, and continuous high-speed flight is extremely exhausting.
"What's going on!?"
Viserys asked, sitting in the double dragon saddle and staring up at the night sky in fear.
Judging from the situation above, they were still a step too late.
Rhaenys said nothing, merely stroking the dragon's back with her eyes fixed on the night sky.
"We must stop them!"
Viserys watched with growing fear, worried that something might happen to the two men and two dragons above.
Rhaenys shook her head, her face grim. "Two dragons are clashing. Meleys alone can't separate them."
At this point in the fight, the dragon riders had minimal control. If
She and Meleys rushed forward rashly, they would likely become sitting ducks for the two uncontrolled dragons in a pincer attack.
"Is there no other way?"
Viserys's voice was hoarse, his throat moving up and down.
"Wait for Laena and the others,"
Rhaenys said helplessly.
Vermithor and Caraxes were at the top of the Targaryen dragon hierarchy, with only the oldest and largest dragon, Vhagar, arguably holding their own.
Meleys, Vhagar, and Seasmoke had to work together to force the two dragons back.
But there was something else she kept in mind:
Two more dragons were watching from the night sky.
During the Battle of Myr, Aemon had demonstrated the feat of controlling three dragons at once.
The two dragons' inaction suggested that Aemon wasn't exerting his full strength or that it was a preemptive obstacle.
"What on earth are they up to, father and son?"
Viserys roared, clutching his forehead in agony and nearly collapsing.
Why had things suddenly turned out this way?
Was it Daemon's selfishness and recklessness?
Or was it Aemon's pride, which had driven him to want to kill his father and family?
"They're mad, absolutely mad!"
Viserys's voice choked with sobs.
He wanted to confront the father and son and ask if they still cared about their family, about him as their brother and uncle.
But his grief pierced his heart.
He knew he had an unavoidable responsibility.
His cowardice made him fear Daemon and Aemon, and he was unable to truly trust them.
Whether Daemon took Lys or proposed dissolving their marriage to form a new family, it would have threatened Viserys.
His veto in the throne room was deliberate.
Seeing his nephew's dilemma, he offered him two choices.
He couldn't bring himself to hurt Daemon, yet he also didn't want him to succeed.
That was the spark that ignited this internal battle.
About a cup of tea later,
Two massive dragons flew in from the horizon.
"Fly, Meleys!"
Having waited a long time, Rhaenys hurriedly urged her dragon to take flight.
Meleys's chest heaved, he spread his wings, and he soared, rapidly approaching the two dragons battling in the night sky.
Meanwhile,
Vhagar and Seasmoke raced side by side, their vast, dark green bodies covering half the night sky.
Their ferocious dragon mouths were open and they were growling. Under the moonlight, the dragons poured out in droves.
"Hiss—"
Vermithor roared in anger, unable to shake off the leech-like, crimson dragon, and he became exhausted.
However, compared to the severely wounded Caraxes, Vermithor's injuries were insignificant.
It possessed immense vitality.
Its sturdy frame and tough scales provided ample defense.
People had only heard of the destructive power of the "Bronze Fury," but were unaware of its high attack power and substantial health.
"Hiss... Gah!"
Caraxes was severely wounded. One of his wings was torn off, and his lower body was ripped open.
His blood and strength drained away.
Exhausted, both dragons plummeted toward the icy lake.
Clang!
Daemon, perched on the dragon's back, continued his fierce attack.
Suddenly, the two dragons plummeted, briefly losing weight and falling.
They were on the verge of being thrown off the dragon's back. Fortunately, at that critical moment, Daemon's nails caught the gaps between the bronze scales, suspending his body in midair.
Aemon swung a few times with his left arm wrapped in the saddle chain before kneeling on the dragon's back to steady himself.
Seeing Daemon about to fall, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
The two dragons continued to plummet toward the lake's surface.
Daemon gasped for breath as he looked down at the speed of his descent; a flicker of resentment appeared in his eyes.
A fall from this height would kill both man and dragon.
With this thought, Daemon closed his eyes and loosened his bloodstained fingers.
He would not accept such a fate.
The Stranger could not take his life; he would choose to throw himself into the arms of death.
Snap!
Just as he let go, his wrist was grabbed.
Daemon opened his eyes and was greeted by Aemon's cold face.
"It's useless. We will all be smashed into a pulp."
He wasn't grateful but thought the other person was doing useless work.
If they died like this, at least the two of them could fuse into one.
"Do you think you're funny?"
With a look of disdain in his eyes, Aemon lifted the dragon and pressed it against the saddle.
He wanted to die, but he hadn't lived enough.
Just as the two dragons closed in on the surface of Long Lake, Aemon roared in High Valyrian, using the binding spell technique.
In an instant, his voice echoed through the night sky.
Vermithor's bronze-colored vertical pupils glowed again, and a surge of power erupted from his body as his heavy wings flapped violently.
A second before hitting the water, he turned to regain his balance, slicing through the water with his claws to soar back into the air.
He wasn't the only one affected.
Caraxes' bloodlust awoke, and a sharp pain spread through his body. He instinctively released the dragon's bite.
A moment later, he remembered the fight and was about to attack again.
But his vertical pupils caught a glimpse of the bronze dragon's rider as it turned, revealing the rider on its back.
A flicker of emotion flashed across Caraxes's eyes, and he released the bronze dragon completely, sending it plummeting into the icy waters.
Vermithor, having just taken flight, glided across the surface of Long Lake before crashing hard to the ground.
Boom!
Reeds flew through the air, igniting the scattered dragon flames upon contact and transforming into sparks that illuminated the night sky.
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