They emitted silent, eerie shrieks, moving with stiff, unnatural steps toward Lo Quen on the shore. Startled, Lo Quen finally understood—they were the souls of the Valyria Legion, drowned here a thousand years ago. Before his death, Garin had summoned the Mother River, the Rhoyne, to drown all invaders. The noble Dragonlord legions remained trapped beneath the water to this day. It was said that their cold breaths rose from the riverbed, forming the mists of The Sorrows. Their bodies and souls had turned to stone.
In the blink of an eye, Lo Quen's entire field of vision was nearly swallowed by the undead army. Their numbers far exceeded those of the Stone Men he'd faced before! He frowned. It seemed that Rhoynar magic truly had some remarkable power. They could actually command these corpses buried beneath the riverbed. It was eerily reminiscent of the Others.
Faced with this tidal wave of the dead, Lo Quen knew he could no longer hold back. He drew a deep breath, and the immense Magic within him, combined with his Dragonborn bloodline, surged to its peak.
[True Dragon's Descent]!
Blinding golden light erupted violently from his body, instantly engulfing his form. The light expanded rapidly. A dragon's roar, shaking the heavens, replaced the cries of men. In the next instant, a massive golden dragon, its body covered in dazzling golden scales, appeared at the heart of The Sorrows. Its overwhelming presence even drowned out the shrieks of the undead and the howling wind.
Without hesitation, the golden dragon Lo Quen opened its vast jaws and unleashed a torrent of destructive golden dragonfire onto the surging undead. This dragonfire burned hotter than Blooddancer's flames, exerting a potent force over the corpses.
"BOOM!!!"
The golden light swept through, instantly obliterating hundreds—if not thousands—of undead, leaving not a trace behind. Countless Dragon's Soul notifications flashed through Lo Quen's mind.
[Dragon's Soul +10]
[Dragon's Soul +14]...
These undead corpses yielded slightly more Dragon's Soul than the Stone Men, and their numbers were far greater than those of the Stone Men on land. The undead horde showed no fear, surging forward relentlessly. Lo Quen continued to unleash Dragonfire, engulfing wave after wave of the undead in a golden sea of flames.
Yet he quickly realized that the undead crawling from the river seemed endless—burn one wave, and another quickly replaced it. Judging by the scale of this force, the Dragonlord Legion sent by the Valyrian Freehold must have numbered at least tens of thousands, perhaps even a hundred thousand soldiers. Lo Quen remembered that Prince Garin had mobilized 250,000 Rhoynar soldiers to resist Valyria's invasion. With such overwhelming numbers, Lo Quen couldn't burn them fast enough.
"Never-ending!"
He roared in frustration, his massive dragon eyes locked onto the center of the river, where the undead continued to churn endlessly.
He abruptly unleashed another skill.
[Blazing Inferno]!
Centered on his massive golden dragon form, a colossal, scorching shield of flame suddenly expanded outward, forming an absolute domain of fire. Any undead corpse that stepped into this fiery shield—even the stone men who ventured too close—was instantly ignited, transformed into a burning torch, and reduced to ash within mere seconds.
Simultaneously, the golden dragon Lo Quen braced his wings against the ground, shifting his powerful hind legs. He began a relentless barrage of Dragonfire toward the heart of The Sorrows—the palace ruins, the stone bridge, and the riverbed where undead corpses surged forth.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Golden Dragonfire furiously baptized this land cursed for millennia. Ancient ruins collapsed and melted within the inferno. Sections of the Rhoyne vaporized, exposing muddy riverbeds that were swiftly refilled by fresh water. Countless stone men and undead emitted their final wails amidst the flames, reduced to ash.
This frenzied purifying inferno raged on for several hours.
Finally, when Lo Quen sensed his Magic reserves were nearly depleted, the churning of the Rhoyne gradually subsided. No new undead emerged. The waterspouts on the river's surface, seemingly deprived of their power source, weakened and dissipated. The thick fog in the air visibly thinned, and the lingering aura of cursed energy began to rapidly dissipate.
The Shrouded Lord, whose heart had been pierced by the Valyrian steel blade, had long since been reduced to a pile of ash in the lingering golden Dragonfire when Lo Quen transformed into golden dragon form, scattered by the wind.
The Sorrows returned to its deathly stillness. But it was no longer a stillness saturated with venom and curses—it was a true tranquility. Sunlight struggled through the thinning mist, bathing the ravaged land.
Lo Quen resumed human form, standing slightly breathless on a charred, barren patch of ground. He sensed the system prompt within him. This frenzied harvest, though yielding minimal Dragon's Soul per individual, had produced a staggering total. Especially the Shrouded Lord, who had provided a single 5,000-point surge of Dragon's Soul. Even the numerous stone men and Water Undead, many of which hadn't dropped Dragon's Soul, collectively contributed over 80,000 points.
His Dragonborn bloodline purity surged from 22% to 31% in one leap. This meant his body length had reached a colossal ninety-three meters. At this scale, who could rival him besides the legendary "Black Dread" Balerion? More crucially, his quota for Flame Knight and the number of dragon eggs he could awaken had also increased.
"Garin's curse has finally dissipated," Lo Quen murmured softly, gazing at the now tranquil Rhoyne and The Sorrows. He understood it wasn't that his current power vastly surpassed the Valyria Dragonlords of old. Rather, the curse, sustained for millennia, had seen its core power largely dissipate over time. Moreover, the power level of its originator, Prince Garin, paled in comparison to that of the potential Cold God lurking behind the Others.
One aspect, however, surprised him. Prince Garin's curse seemed to share a strange kinship with the Cold God's Others. Both manipulated the corpses of the dead, one through ice, the other through water.
He turned and left the ruins, still lingering with intense heat. On the outskirts of The Sorrows, he found Blooddancer and Jaelena waiting anxiously.
The moment she saw him, Jaelena leapt from Silverfall's back, rushing toward him without hesitation. She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, her body trembling slightly with emotion.
"I'm so relieved you're safe. I was truly worried..." Her voice trembled with emotion as she buried her face deep into his chest.
Feeling Jaelena's affection, Lo Quen paused slightly, then felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He gently embraced her, patting her back. "It's okay now. Just a minor setback."
Jaelena lifted her head, her deep purple eyes glistening with unshed tears, brimming with unmistakable emotion. Gazing at Lo Quen's face mere inches away, she suddenly rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss carried the faint saltiness of tears and an unreserved passion. Lo Quen paused only briefly before returning her kiss.
The golden afterglow of the setting sun bathed the embracing pair, coating them in a warm halo that seemed to dispel the darkness of the cursed battle that had just unfolded.
Beside them, the two dragons, Blooddancer and Silverfall, exchanged a glance, seemingly intrigued by their masters' actions. They lowered their massive heads, drawing closer to the couple and observing them with their dragon eyes for a moment.
Then, in perfect unison, they lifted their enormous heads once more, gazing toward the distant sunset.
...