Beneath the Red Dragon

The commander of the Flying Dragon Knight Order, Batorri, rode the Flying Dragon Swift Shadow across the sky, her speed like a brilliant stream of light. Losing this prey, she shifted her gaze to other Demon Dragons in the distant sky.

Batorri didn’t concern herself with the Slave Warriors surrounding the manor. Apart from the ’Burning Hooves’ Legion dispatched for the beheading mission, the remaining warriors in the manor could not be resisted by these Slave Warriors and the Pure.

The task of the Flying Dragon Knight Order was to clear interference from the Demon Dragon Knights in the sky against the legion warriors as much as possible.

With her right hand, Batorri wielded the Long-Bladed Armor-Piercing Steel Sword. The wind blew through her short hair as she commanded with spirit: ”Swift Shadow, head over there. The next prey is it!”

The whiskers beneath the Flying Dragon Swift Shadow’s chin sparkled in a myriad of colors. These flying dragons could communicate with their knight’s consciousness, eliminating the need for verbal exchange. Swift Shadow could sense the excitement of its rider.

It quickly changed direction, swooping towards the massive Demon Dragon with golden scales and red eyes.

The distant Demon Dragon Knight had just detected Batorri and Flying Dragon Swift Shadow’s presence when, the next moment, Batorri was in front of him with a Steel Sword raised. His mount, a Demon Dragon, didn’t even have time to open its mouth before seeing a flash of cold light.

Slash,

Batorri and Flying Dragon Swift Shadow soared past the Demon Dragon’s chest and belly. Her Steel Sword sliced open the dragon’s chest pouch, and a torrent of Dragon Blood gushed like a spring, falling to the ground.

Before the War Commander of the Imperial, these gigantic Demon Dragons showed fatal weaknesses everywhere; inferior Dragon Species like pigs awaiting slaughter.

Batorri slayed another Demon Dragon, hovering in the air and surveying.

The night city was already ablaze with flames and war.

The House Targaryen, though one of the Forty Dragon King Clans, had always been on the fringes, possessing only five Giant Dragons, their influence not vast.

Tonight, above House Targaryen’s manor fortress, not a single Demon Dragon took to the sky, the silence somewhat peculiar.

A Decurion of the ’Burning Hooves’ Legion dragged a Black Iron Giant Sword, swirling with blood and resentment, stepping over severed limbs and pools of blood, leading over ten warriors into the sprawling manor.

Unexpectedly for the Decurion, the people of House Targaryen had already gathered at the center of the manor, as if awaiting his arrival with warriors.

Even as they massacred the loyal warriors belonging to House Targaryen, the nobility did not step forward to organize a counter.

The Decurion halted, his warriors standing firm behind him, forming an adaptable formation ready to advance or retreat.

”Do you seek your doom, or surrender to my master?” The Decurion lifted his blood-stained Giant Sword in the steel gauntlet, brushed his left hand across the spine of the Giant Sword, and glanced at the two uneasy Demon Dragons, speaking calmly.

The existing two Demon Dragons of this family, one merely twenty meters long with silver scales and green eyes, the other larger at fifty meters with black scales and fearsome horns, posed no real threat to the Decurion.

Every warrior of ’Burning Hooves’ possessed a bloodline more ancient and formidable than these Demon Dragons. Even their true capabilities could not be forced out by ordinary warriors.

The patriarch of House Targaryen, in an opulent robe and a moon-white necklace, stepped out from the crowd’s embrace.

He looked upon the warriors before him like demons, towering at nearly four meters, reminiscent of giants from childhood tales told by elders.

The true power of these terrifying warriors was evident when eight hundred fully equipped samurai outside managed to obstruct them for less than a quarter-hour.

”Fortunately, although House Targaryen is not as powerful as other Dragon King Clans, it possesses Dreamwalkers that other families do not,”

The patriarch of House Targaryen felt relieved. Upon learning the prophecy, House Targaryen had already devised a retreat.

Some Dreamwalkers and family members had already fled with three Demon Dragons to Dragonstone Island outside the Westeros Continent, ensuring the legacy would continue even if House Targaryen suffered setbacks.

The remaining core family members would stay in Valerian, ready to act as circumstances dictate.

But now, it seemed, Valerian did not possess the capability to withstand these outsiders, prompting the patriarch of House Targaryen to choose the easiest path.

He kneeled before the warrior drenched in blood, bowing his head, offering the legendary Valyrian Steel Sword ’Black Fire’ from his waist, and declared loudly: ”We offer House Targaryen’s loyalty to the master of these brave and powerful warriors,”

”We pledge our fire, souls, and harvest to you, my lord,”

”Our swords, long spears, and bows heed your summons,”

”Please show mercy towards our distress, aid our plight, treat everyone with fairness and equality, and we, the House Targaryen, shall forever follow you.”

The Decurion looked at the Steel Sword between the noble’s hands, letting out a faint laugh.

He gazed down at the patriarch of House Targaryen, the massive Iron Sword resting on the noble’s shoulder, making his body shiver with blood and a flash of fear.

Seeing this, the Decurion smiled with satisfaction and said gently: ”No, in submission to the glory of the Emperor of the Imperial, your loyalty, your everything, shall belong to the Emperor’s supreme ruler, Karon Gogomola.