(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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DAWNFIRE CITADEL...
The great hall of Dawnfire Citadel had been transformed.
A wide scrying screen—smooth as glass—floated before a long couch.
Images shifted in real time, drawn from battlefields miles away.
Leo sat relaxed at the center, one arm resting casually, a faint smile playing on his lips.
On one side sat Rhaenyra, legs tucked beneath her, eyes sharp and unblinking.
On the other sat Alicent, posture straight, fingers clenched together—trying to remain composed, but unable to hide the tension in her gaze.
This was not a tale sung by bards.
This was war—live.
The screen shifted.
A narrow mountain pass filled the image.
Crown forces advanced confidently—tight formation, shields raised, banners high.
They believed numbers would overwhelm the North.
Then—The mountains moved.
Not literally—but gravity answered Ri Boku's call.
Boulders thundered down from above, not randomly, but in precise waves.
Paths collapsed and the lines broke. Panic spread like wildfire.
Soldiers screamed—not in pain, but in realization.
-Ahhhhhh!!!
-Ahhh!!!
They were trapped.
Rhaenyra inhaled sharply.
-Sigh
"They never stood a chance…"
Leo nodded calmly he already knew with the time Ri Boku had he must have already arranged a great funerals for them while all they need to do was come, die and buried.
"Ri Boku doesn't fight armies. He fights decisions."
The enemy commanders shouted orders—but every option led to loss.
Retreat routes sealed. Supply wagons crushed. Momentum shattered.
"...."
Alicent swallowed looking at the mess before her eyes while she whispered.
"This isn't battle, It's… execution."
Leo corrected her gently.
"No. It's consequence."
The image shifted again.
Open land. Smoke. Shattered lines.
At the center strode Ōuki.
He moved like a force of nature—laughing, roaring orders, charging straight through enemy formations.
His presence alone broke morale.
Enemy captains fell one after another—not slain anonymously, but defeated publicly, their command ripped apart.
Ōuki raised his weapon high, voice booming across the field.
"IS THIS ALL THE KING FAVOURED BY GODS CAN SEND?"
Crown soldiers broke ranks. Ran.
Rhaenyra clenched her fist looking at the blood pumping scene before her eyes with excited grin plastered on her face.
"They're fleeing…"
Leo's eyes gleamed while increased the volume in the TV enjoying the chaos.
"Fear spreads faster than fire."
Behind the scenes, Aemma and Hagoromo Gitsune prepared.
Armor clasped.Power restrained—for now.
Aemma adjusted her gloves, eyes cold but focused as she spoke calmly.
"I'll take the eastern flank, They still think I'm old me."
Hagoromo Gitsune smiled—cold, dangerous.
"...."
"I'll handle the sky where dragons hesitate,"
Leo looked at them.
"Don't end it."
Aemma smirked while rolling her eyes thinking about the previous instruction and idea Leo has gave his peoples.
"A week, You want them to remember."
They vanished in flashes of light as the system with the commend form Leo teleported to their desired location of the battle field.
Rhaenyra turned to Leo, searching his face and asked quitly.
"You could end this now, Why wait?"
Leo leaned back, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Because peace built without pain is forgotten."
Alicent looked at him—really looked.
"...."
Not at a tyrant. Not at a savior. At someone who understood the humanity mind.
"This world chose war,"
Leo continued while placing the remote back on the table.
"So it will learn what war truly is."
The screen flickered again—new fronts lighting up, new reports pouring in.
The scrying screen shifted again.
This time, it showed the ports of Westeros—those that had sworn alliance with the North and Eldoria.
At first glance, the sea looked calm.
Then the water moved.
Iron Bank ships cut through the waves in tight formation, their hulls heavy with soldiers, siege weapons, and mercenaries bought with coin and promises.
Their banners fluttered confidently—men who believed the sea was merely an obstacle, not an enemy.
They were wrong.
From beneath the surface—Shadows rose under the skin of sea.
Merpeople squads surged upward in perfect coordination, their movements fluid and terrifyingly silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Tridents punched through hulls like parchment.
-BAM!
Chains wrapped around rudders and snapped them clean off.
Ballista bolts fired wildly, striking nothing but water and mist.
On one ship, soldiers barely had time to scream before the deck was flooded—water pulled upward, not inward, as if the sea itself had decided to reclaim what floated upon it.
Rhaenyra's breath caught.
"...."
"They're not fighting they were killing them like it was nothing…"
Leo nodded immersed in the scene before him.
"They're not raiding.They're enforcing borders. Where they belong?"
The screen zoomed closer.
A captain tried to rally his men.
A hand—webbed, scaled, impossibly strong—dragged him overboard.
Below the surface, the world turned blue and dark.
Merpeople moved like executioners, striking arteries, crushing lungs, dragging armored bodies into depths no human could survive.
No mercy. No hesitation.
Alicent pressed her lips together, pale.
"The Iron Bank will never forgive this. They have a vast influence over the economy of Westeros."
Leo's eyes remained calm.
"They won't recover from it either. After this war Iron Banks would loose their dominance over the sea."
Ship after ship fell.
Some burned. Some capsized. Most simply vanished, swallowed whole by the sea.
Gold spilled uselessly into the abyss.
Contracts dissolved with the bodies that carried them.
At one allied harbor, survivors crawled ashore—soaked, shaking, alive only because Eldoria allowed it.
"...."
A single merperson surfaced before them, voice echoing unnaturally across the water.
"Return this message."
The water stilled.
"The sea is closed."
The screen faded While the silence filled the hall.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Rhaenyra exhaled slowly taking deep breath imagining the helpless look on all those who sank into the sea.
-Sigh
"…They didn't even need ships."
Leo leaned forward slightly.
"The Iron Bank believes gold controls the world."
His red eyes glinted faintly.
"Today, they learned what happens when money meets nature."
Far across Westeros, ports went quiet.
Trade routes collapsed overnight.
And for the first time in generations, the sea stopped answering to coin and they were turned to red.
Across Eldoria and the allied halls, the lords who had chosen this side sat in stunned silence.
They had heard of Eldoria's strength. They had believed in Leo's words.
But witnessing it—land crushed by strategy, sea erased by nature, air dominated without even revealing the final hand—was something else entirely.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Rickon Stark broke the silence at last in low voice.
"This isn't a war of attrition, This is a war of inevitability."
No one argued. Some lords felt awe. Some felt fear. All felt certainty with relief in their chest.
They had chosen correctly.
KING'S LANDING...
RED KEEP CASTLE...
In King's Landing, the mood was the opposite.
Reports arrived one after another—lost ships, shattered battalions, borders breached before banners were even raised.
The court was tense. The council fractured.
"...."
"...."
"...."
And yet—Viserys did not take the field.
At Otto Hightower's insistence, the king remained within the Red Keep, surrounded by guards, healers, and his pregnant wife Catherine, whose condition Otto used as both shield and leverage.
"A king does not rush into chaos,"
Otto counseled calmly.
"He appears at the right moment."
Viserys paced like a caged beast, every report feeding his anger, his pride screaming for release as he snarled.
"They mock the gods, They mock me."
Otto placed a steady hand on the table while she spoke calmly not breaking his facade.
"And that is why your entrance must be decisive, One dragon. One appearance. One annihilation."
The implication was clear.
When Viserys finally appeared, it would not be to fight—It would be to end.
On one side of the world, a god watched war unfold like a lesson, allowing pain to teach restraint.
On the other, a king waited—not realizing that every moment he delayed only widened the gap.
Because while the Iron Throne planned a single overwhelming strike…
Eldoria was already winning without revealing its strongest piece.
And when Viserys finally chose his moment—He would find that the battlefield had already moved past him.
After Three Days...
By the third day, desperation set in.
Several fleets—royal scouts, mercenary vessels, even reckless adventurers hoping for reward—attempted to locate Eldoria itself.
None succeeded.
The moment they crossed a certain threshold, the sea turned hostile. Waves rose like walls, smashing hulls apart, Storms formed without warning, swallowing ships whole
Fog so dense it erased direction and sound,
Lightning split the sky, striking masts with surgical precision,
Massive silhouettes moved beneath the water—tentacles, armored backs, glowing eyes
No ship reached the boundary twice.
Survivors—few as they were—returned babbling of a sea that chose who lived.
Soon, a rumor spread across Westeros.
"Eldoria is not surrounded by water. It is guarded by it."
An unbreachable natural border—not built, not commanded, but accepted by nature itself.
The Iron Throne quietly stopped sending ships. Since the couldn't trace the route back to Eldoria but loosing their mens hopelessly.
ELDORIA...
High above Eldoria, in the calm that followed the storm reports,
Leo stood at the balcony of Dawnfire Citadel.
His red eyes traced glowing markers on the world map projected before him—supply hubs, command bases, relay fortresses.
He nodded once.
-Nod
"It's time."
This war was not meant to end quickly.
It was meant to teach.
Leo had decided:
One crucial crown asset per day and will continue for four days each loss carefully chosen, Each strike escalating pressure, not panic.
By the end of the week, the Iron Throne would not merely be weakened.
It would be paralyzed.
He marked today's target.
A strategic base—vital to troop movement, message relays, and supply redistribution.
Destroy it, and the crown's armies would feel the delay within hours.
Leo exhaled slowly while muttering.
-Sigh
"Day one,"
The shadows around him stirred—not violently, but eagerly.
The wind shifted.
Dust rolled across the open plain as the lone rider halted—black horse snorting softly, armored hooves digging into the earth.
-Thud. -Thud.
-Thud. -Thud.
The figure atop it did not move.
He didn't need to.
From the battlements of the riverside stronghold—where three great waterways converged—horns fell silent.
Soldiers leaned forward. Crossbows dipped. Conversations died mid-breath.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The lord in charge of the checkpoint strode out, irritation already on his tongue.
"Who dares approach—"
Then he raised the telescope.
And staggered back.
His face drained of color while his eyes widden.
Black armor traced with crimson veins. A helm shaped like a crowned predator. Wings—vast, dark, edged with red—unfurled slowly behind the rider like a promise of ruin.
And the sword. A crimson tip blade that seemed to drink the sunlight around it.
The lord's knees nearly gave out.
"I-it's him…"
The name tasted like ash.
Leo Morningstar. King of Eldoria. The one who broke Daemon in the tourney. The one the Crown had sworn would fall.
The gates boomed shut in panic.
As the preparation has began fastly to confront the enemy.
The moment Leo crossed the last stretch of ground, the castle gates slammed open.
-BAM!
Steel thundered.
Infantry poured out first—shield walls locking into place—followed by cavalry thundering forward, lances lowered, banners snapping violently in the wind.
On the walls above, archers took position in perfect rows, bowstrings drawn to the cheek, eyes cold and calculating.
The captain on the battlements swallowed.
-Gulp
"...."
A single man who was riding straight toward them.
No hesitation. No slowing.
"Loose—when he enters range!"
The captain barked his orders to his mens.
But Leo moved first.
Leo's hand reached back.
-SHING.
The sound of his sword leaving the sheath was soft—almost polite.
Then the cavalry hit.
Four riders surged ahead, blades raised, horses screaming as they closed the distance.
Leo stood in the saddle.
One step. One swing.
The crimson blade traced a clean, horizontal arc.
Horse. Rider. Armor. Bone.
All split perfectly in half, momentum carrying the bisected bodies forward before they collapsed into the earth behind him.
The battlefield went silent for half a heartbeat.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then hell broke loose.
Leo did not stop as he rode into the formation.
Every movement was precise—no wasted motion, no flourish.
A shield shattered as if struck by a siege hammer. A spear snapped the instant it touched his armor.Steel rang—once—before its owner fell.
He didn't accelerate. He didn't retreat. He advanced.
Soldiers died around him, not because he chased them—but because they stood in his way.
Arrows screamed from the walls.
They missed the target.
Not by magic. By fear of what they witnessed.
Hands shook. Aim wavered.
Some arrows missed by a man's width—others struck shadows that weren't there.
The captain felt his breath hitch.
'This isn't a man…'
More soldiers poured out of the gate.
Too many. Too eager. Too late.
"ARISE."
Leo halted his horse.
-SCREECH!!!
He looked around.
The ground was soaked in blood. Corpses lay twisted where they'd fallen—men and horses alike.
His eyes burned with purple bled into crimson.
He spoke one word.
"Arise."
The world answered.
Shadows flooded the battlefield, swallowing sound, color, and courage.
From beneath fallen bodies, darkness moved.
Hands clawed upward. Spines straightened.
Eyes ignited with cold violet fire.
The dead stood. Soldiers screamed.
Some dropped weapons. Others fled.
-AHHHHHHH!!!
-AHHHHH!!!
"...."
"...."
"...."
Many fell to their knees, begging gods that did not answer.
Behind Leo, his shadow army emerged fully—veterans, knights, and towering draconic silhouettes stretching across the field.
Above them all, a massive shadow dragon unfurled its wings.
The captain collapsed against the battlements.
"...."
"E-evil sorcery…!"
The shadow dragon inhaled. Then exhaled. Not flame.
But Shadowfire.
The walls blackened instantly—stone burning, not melting but erasing, as if reality itself rejected their existence.
Archers vanished mid-scream.
The lord tried to run.
"Leave me al..."
The fire reached him first.
The castle—proud, ancient, defiant—ceased to exist in moments, reduced to a hollow ruin swallowed by creeping darkness.
When the shadowfire faded, nothing remained but broken stone and silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Leo turned his horse.
The shadow army bowed as one—then melted back into his silhouette, merging seamlessly into his form.
The battlefield emptied. The rivers stilled. Only Leo remained.
Far away, ravens took flight.
Across Westeros, lords received the same report:
The army was annihilated, The castle erased, No siege, No dragon, No army of his own it was just one king.
Day One was complete.
Leo exhaled slowly—and apparted while the world folded.
The blood-soaked battlefield vanished, replaced by the warm, mana-rich air of Eldoria.
ELDORIA...
DAWNFIRE CITADEL CASTLE...
The moment his boots touched the marble floor of the Dawnfire Citadel's inner hall, the system shimmered once—and his black horse dissolved into golden particles, returned safely to storage.
He barely had time to straighten.
"...."
A blur of silver-and-black slammed into him.
"LEO!"
Rhaenyra practically launched herself into his arms, legs lifting off the ground as she wrapped both arms around his neck.
The impact forced a surprised grunt out of him as he caught her by instinct.
Her eyes were shining—excited, fierce, alive.
"I SAW IT,"
She said rapidly, words tumbling over each other.
"You just—swish—and then the soldiers fell, and then the shadows—LIKE THIS—"
She pulled back just enough to start wildly reenacting the fight, hands slicing through the air, spinning dramatically, even lowering her voice and saying with exaggerated seriousness.
"Arise."
Leo couldn't help it but let out a chuckle.
-Hehe
"...."
A real, deep laugh—the kind that only came when he was finally home.
-Hahaha!!!
"You added a little too much flair,"
He said, amused by her reaction.
"I didn't spin."
Rhaenyra scoffed lifting her head high.
"You should have."
Behind her, Alicent stood frozen.
"...."
Her face was completely red.
She had seen the battle too—every cut, every fallen soldier, the way Leo had stood alone against an army like judgment incarnate.
But this—Rhaenyra clinging to him so openly, laughing, touching him like it was the most natural thing in the world—
It made her heart twist.
And race. And ache in a way she didn't fully understand yet.
She cleared her throat softly.
"Ahem."
"...."
"...."
"...."
Rhaenyra finally realized she was still in Leo's arms as she paused.
Then—very deliberately—tightened her grip once more before hopping down.
"Oh, Sorry."
She said innocently, brushing imaginary dust off her clothes.
Alicent did not believe that apology for a second.
Leo turned toward Alicent, his expression softening when he saw her embarrassment and gently.
"You okay?"
She nodded quickly still excited.
-Nod
"Y-Yes. I just… I didn't expect it to be so… decisive."
Her eyes flicked away while twinkling.
"Or… terrifying."
Leo tilted his head slightly.
"War is supposed to be terrifying. It keeps it from becoming casual."
That answer only made Alicent look at him more deeply.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Happy New Year Guys...
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give areview
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.