"Allah, I did it..." she murmured with a shallow smile, her voice low and hoarse.
Joffrey felt it.
Invisible Magic Power surged wildly into the Priestess's belly, then diffused throughout her body.
In an instant.
Her Eyes were exceptionally bright, like fiery red coals, and the scattered beads of sweat on her skin shimmered, rising and falling with her breath, her hair, lips, fingers...
The entire Melisandre glowed, as if she were a sacred spirit.
She had become the vessel for another being's descent.
Her Eyes stared fixedly at Joffrey, as if she still wanted to say something.
But it couldn't wait.
The scorching, sharp power within her body was restless. Melisandre trembled all over, gasping for breath, and with difficulty, parted her legs.
"Ah~~~"
Blood gushed from between her thighs, but it was as black as ink. She cried out, unable to tell if it was pain or ecstasy, or perhaps both.
Before long.
A child's head wearing a Crown struggled and squeezed out of her body, followed by two hands. They twisted and grasped, the black fingers tightly gripping Melisandre's profusely bleeding thighs, pushing, pushing, until the entire Shadow entered this world.
Silent and eerie.
It crawled a couple of steps like a baby, and its body condensed from shadow stretched and elongated, instantly growing into an adult. The Shadow it cast enveloped the entire space.
It stood up, much taller than Joffrey.
It straightened its body. Only the part below its chest was visible in the room. Its shoulders, neck, and head above that transformed into a dense Shadow clinging to the ceiling, like a soul-devouring black hole.
It had no face, deep and real, like a pool of black ink, yet thin and ethereal, as if it were merely a Shadow cast by Firelight.
But Joffrey certainly recognized it.
The person who cast this Shadow was none other than himself.
The Shadow Assassin.
Joffrey stared at it with fascination. It showed no reaction.
"Your Majesty~" Melisandre called out weakly, "Come and rest quickly. It needs you to have a dream."
An inexplicable suction came at this moment, craving Joffrey's spirit and Soul.
"Sandor!" Joffrey shouted.
The Hound pushed open the door and appeared in response, like a watchdog.
Joffrey unbuttoned his clothes and took them off. "The battle outside is all yours. Just proceed according to the plan."
Joffrey glanced at him. "Don't bite too many of my Lambs to death. A flock without a master is no threat, merely Wealth waiting to be taken."
"End all of this before sunset."
The Hound nodded calmly as usual. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Go."
Joffrey lay down on another clean bed, closed his Eyes, and no longer resisted the inexplicable suction.
In an instant.
His Soul floated out of his body and entered the tall, dark Shadow.
He opened his Eyes.
The world had completely changed. Color had lost its meaning. There was only light and dark, Life and Soul, energy and particles containing Truth.
He looked forward. The waves were surging and noisy, and the drifting gray smoke drifted and drifted, blending into the black and white background.
He looked down. The hard stone wall had become a sieve full of holes, with countless particles entering and exiting, Information completely visible. Half of the Shadow's body and Melisandre were in the room below.
He looked up. The air currents flowed incessantly, and small, shallow silver birds occasionally streaked across the sky, leaving a long trail.
He turned around.
Innumerable thick gray smoke gathered in the air outside Storm's End, forming a huge Circle. Although it was slowly dissipating, countless fine streams of smoke were gently rising from below, maintaining this wondrous sight.
The source of the gray smoke was the dense silver light. Each one an dazzling, delicious Soul.
He saw a small hill.
A patch of silver light gathered there. One Soul was particularly tempting.
Renly.
Joffrey knew.
Why Renly? What was different about him? What was the connection between King's Blood and Soul? Who would have King's Blood? Was it really just bloodline?
Another question was added.
But now was not a good time to research. Joffrey immersed his mind, trying to explore the wondrous power the Shadow possessed and control this special body.
It wasn't difficult. The shadow itself was already restless.
Silently, he had crossed half of Storm's End and arrived within the city walls closest to Renly.
The shadow sent him a signal of instinctive resistance. Joffrey knew it was because of the magical aura within the walls. But this magic had been modified by him and would henceforth coexist peacefully with the shadow.
He merged into the ground.
The dim underground world was blurred, filled with faint points of light like stars, chaotic and difficult to discern.
Fortunately, the alluring soul ahead guided him in the right direction.
He stalked towards his target.
The shadow wasn't as fast as light, but it always arrived before sound.
He was there.
Right above him.
He heard the lively banquet above ground.
Renly sighed, "Although we all know the truth, some people still think he's my flesh and blood. Well, as they wish, we will bury him instead of parading his head on a spear."
Joffrey was startled. Is he talking about me?
Ralf Buckler, the Lord of Bronze Gate, was the first to agree. "This is truly the demeanor of a king. To forgiveness for justice, cheers!"
Everyone present understood that it was indeed necessary.
There could only be one king.
"Cheers!"
People raised their cups and drank, hiding their thoughts within the wine.
Alright. Joffrey looked at the grinning Ralf Buckler. Then you'll be the first.
He extended his right hand.
Ink-black shadow separated from him, flowing and climbing onto his right hand, gradually extending...
A Shadow Sword.
Looking along the blade, it was as thin as a cicada's wing, as if it didn't exist at all. From another angle, it was a flat surface, a darkness more profound than a Valyrian Steel Sword.
"Gentlemen," Renly said with a smile on his face.
The tents suddenly darkened.
Was it an illusion?
Renly seemed to sense something and looked towards a seat.
Candlelight flickered and trembled. The shadow shifted and swayed, raising its sword. That shadow-like sword...
"So cold," Ralf Buckler said in a faint and bewildered tone. A small, rough gasp, however, completely shattered him.
Puff~~Thud!
Blood spurted powerfully from his neck, covering the golden cloth above, splashing onto the faces and into the mouths of those around, and also washing away his head.
The head rolled and rolled, finally facing King Renly on the high platform.
"Monster!"
The tents suddenly exploded!
The tall shadow stood up, its height just touching the top of the main camp, its body becoming more solid and dark. The tents were also completely enveloped by the shadow.
Renly stared intently at the crown on the shadow's head.
"Joffrey!!"
The shadow didn't speak, calmly pacing, dealing with each target.
People screamed in terror, shouted loudly, and ran frantically. But the all-consuming shadow nullified all their efforts.
Randyll Tarly pressed the shadowy cloth behind him. It was so hard and heavy.
It's over.
He understood, no one could escape
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