It was the twentieth day of the voyage.
When the black towers of Pyke finally appeared on the horizon, the sailors did not cheer. They licked their cracked lips in silence, eyes fixed on barrels of fresh water and the smoke of roasting whale meat on the shore.
Euron stood at the bow, watching Lysa wipe the dragonglass compass—a trophy Dagmer had secretly given him—with a black cloth embroidered in gold thread. Her fingers were slender and precise. As she murmured in High Valyrian, the compass's edge glimmered faintly blue.
"She calls it a 'beacon of blood and fire,'" Dagmer said, one eye glinting in the twilight. "Boy, you've found a treasure."
The waves caressed the hull. Euron's shoulder wound had scabbed over. He studied the emerging outline of Pyke, knowing this voyage had altered something irrevocably—perhaps the Iron Islands' future, perhaps his own destiny. Twenty days at sea had fully awakened the "Pirate King System" within him.
[System Activation]
Host: Euron Greyjoy (Reincarnated)
World Type: Low-Magic Plane — Synchronized. Loading Complete.
Current Status:
• Free Attribute Points: 0
• Strength: 4/10 — Child's body; physical power extremely limited
• Agility: 6/10 — Balance refined by sea winds
• Stamina: 4/10 — Old rib injury limits endurance
• Spirit: 12/10 — Alien soul fusion exceeds normal threshold
• Command: 8/10 — Initial aura of the Drowned God
• Charm: 9/10 — Heterochromatic eyes; "Son of the Drowned God" legend
• Luck: C (Scale A–F; A: excellent, F: catastrophic)
System Reward: Haoshoku Haki Lv.1 (Passive)
• Cannot be actively controlled; emits unconsciously during extreme emotional states (anger, fear, life-or-death).
• Effects: Weak opponents retreat; subtle intimidation; reduces enemy strength, agility, and spirit.
• Upgrade Lv.2: Requires 2000 points.
Euron felt a mix of surprise and disappointment. Surprise at obtaining the rare Haoshoku Haki, marking him as a kingly figure; disappointment that Lv1 offered only subtle effects, far weaker than in the legends of pirates and adventurers he had known. Yet the potential for growth was limitless.
[ Exploration Rewards ]
• Western Sea of Westeros discovered: +80 points
• Pyke discovered: +80 points
Inside Pyke's black stone halls, the scent of salt and blood lingered. Piles of silk, gold, and spices lay stacked in corners, gleaming ominously under torchlight. Silence pressed down. Dagmer's lips were tight; all eyes avoided the figure at the far end of the hall.
Lord Quellon Greyjoy, broad-shouldered and imposing, stood by the hearth, gaze fixed on the flames.
"A full hold?" His voice was calm, yet each word struck like iron. Slowly, his hawklike eyes swept over his sons, Balon and Euron.
"Tyrosh spices, Myr silk, Lys gems… By the drowned god, you've plundered a fortune! Should I thank you? Or curse you for the folly?!"
Quellon's steps were deliberate, each one pressing on hearts like cold stone. He stopped before Balon, nose almost touching his son's, fury radiating not at the spoils, but at the recklessness behind them.
"Unauthorized action! Right under the nose of the Governor of Butalaf! Did you think you were attending a market fair? You drew enemy eyes to the Iron Islands! You risked the old ways, our people, and your own lives!"
"Who gave you the courage?" Quellon's words lashed like ice-whips. "The Greyjoy ships are not commanded by green boys! Every bolt of silk, every gold coin, may demand Ironborn blood to answer for your arrogance!"
His gaze pierced Euron with precision. "Cleverness misplaced! Did you think prying captives' mouths solved everything? Did 'wildfire' suffice? Foolish!"
The room fell silent. The time for punishment had come.
"Stay of the Hall!" Quellon's voice rang sharply. "One month! None of you will leave Pyke. Ships and weapons are impounded. Use this time to reflect, sharpen your minds, and learn what responsibility truly means."
The sailors shrank back, hearing the severity. Quellon's eyes returned to Balon.
"Balon! As the eldest, as my heir, your failure surpasses your brother's. Arrogance must be tempered. After confinement, you will clean Howling Head reef—by hand, with your knife, under the sun, no rest until done!"
Gasps rippled. Howling Head: a treacherous reef east of Pyke, sharp rocks, ceaseless waves, brutal labor—a punishment surpassing any lashing or battle.
Quellon's gaze turned to Euron. "Euron! You will copy the Drowned God's scrolls, the history of our blood, and the laws of the Iron Islands three times each—perfectly. If your hand trembles, if a single line is crooked, I'll have you start over until your fingers bleed.
You will learn the Old Way.
You will learn the weight of the Greyjoy name.
Disobey, and you'll taste the same punishment our thralls do.
Fail, and I'll know you're unworthy of salt or sea."
The punishments matched their place in the hall: Balon endured the harsh labor of the reef, while Euron faced the merciless discipline of ink and scrolls. Both lessons were cruel, each in its own way.
Balon's face drained of color; jaw clenched, eyes burning with humiliation. Euron lowered his eyelids.
Finally, Quellon's eyes fell on the spoils.
"Dagmer, divide them per custom. Half to the vault, half… convert to grain and timber to reinforce Pyke and the surrounding defenses. Mistake this, and it will not be your hand alone that pays, but your honor and your head. You brought wealth, yes—but also peril. Now, move!"
The sailors slipped from the hall, breath held, leaving the cold fury behind. Oak doors closed with a thud, sealing in the lessons of power, duty, and the price of gold.
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📚 Author's Note:
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed diving into the world of the Iron Islands and following Euron's journey. I'm excited to share that I'll be updating the story with two new chapters every day, so there's plenty more adventure, intrigue, and chaos to come. Stay tuned, and I can't wait to hear what you think!