Compared to the name "Spine Sword," Aegon preferred its original name—Disaster Sword.
After all, in his previous life, his awakened dragon demon talent had been [C-Class Dragon Demon - King of Disaster].
When Aegon reached out to grasp the bone hilt of the Disaster Sword, Tyanna was quick to slap his hand away, frowning as she scolded,
"This sword is highly poisonous. Anyone who touches it will be paralyzed. No one but the Emperor can lay a hand on it."
Aegon looked at her in confusion.
"Then what effect will this sword have against Larissa's Swift Sword?"
Tyanna didn't answer immediately.
She drew a dagger from her waist, wrapped her right hand in her sleeve, and gripped the dagger. Then she lightly touched the tip to the Disaster Sword.
In an instant, the dagger's bright steel blade turned a deep, dark purple.
She picked up the teacup on the table, tilted her head back, and drank the tea milk in a single gulp, setting the empty cup down beside the dagger.
A bone-chilling sound of metal scraping against bone rang out.
Tyanna was carefully scraping the surface of the Disaster Sword.
Aegon leaned to the side, curious, and saw tiny particles of bone ash slowly falling into the teacup.
What the hell… she's trying to scrape my ashes? he thought to himself.
He quickly guessed her intention—using powder from the Disaster Sword to paralyze Larissa's nerves.
Sure enough, Tyanna looked at him and said seriously,
"The Emperor may have extraordinary regenerative powers, but his own weapon is his natural counter. If we can paralyze or slow Larissa's movements, killing her will be as easy as turning a hand."
She handed him the small cup of powder scraped from the blade.
But Aegon didn't reach for it—his gaze was fixed on her other hand.
"What are you looking at? Do you want this dagger?" Tyanna asked, giving the dagger in her right hand a little shake.
Aegon cleared his throat quickly.
"Nothing."
He had half-expected her to lick the dagger, but that idea went nowhere.
Taking the bone poison, Aegon carefully set it on the table.
"How should I use this? Smear it on my weapon, or something else?"
Tyanna slid the dagger back into her belt.
"In a while, bring your weapon to my palace. I'll fit it with a spray mechanism. When you fight Larissa, just spray it toward her face. Dragonkin breathe deeply during battle. I've tested this before—never fails."
Didn't think you were such a seasoned pro, Aegon thought to himself.
"I'll be going. Remember—this bone poison only lasts seven days before it loses its effect."
With two sharp claps, Tyanna signaled for the spine sword to be taken away and left Aegon's study.
Aegon found a small box, carefully poured the bone powder into it, and stored it securely.
...
Three days later, the day of his duel with Larissa arrived.
In front of Visenya Palace within the Red Keep, the royal family was already seated in the stands of the Dragon Square, ready to watch.
At the center of the square stood a tall, striking female warrior. Her features were fine and sharp, her gaze deep and piercing. A waterfall of long hair hung smoothly down her back, swaying lightly in the breeze.
Aegon walked at an unhurried pace from the edge of the square to the heart of the arena.
To his surprise, Larissa wore no armor. Instead, she had chosen a tight-fitting silk combat suit that perfectly outlined her graceful yet powerful form.
Her attire was a statement of absolute confidence—she believed no one could break her defenses.
Perhaps, deep down, she believed no opponent would ever touch her.
A high-ranking cleric of the Faith of the Seven slowly stepped forward to the stone steps. His purpose was to preside over the trial by combat—a tradition rooted in the Faith's old scriptures.
The white-robed cleric's voice rang out:
"Under the gaze of the Seven and all mankind, we gather here to determine whether Viserys Targaryen is guilty or innocent.
May the Mother be merciful and bless him.
May the Father render justice and deliver the verdict he deserves.
May the Warrior guide…"
Larissa reached behind her and drew her own steel sword. The blade was slim and thin, glinting like a mirror beneath the sun.
With a silk scarf, she gently wiped the blade.
Aegon's eyes flicked over her with mild disdain before he drew his own weapon.
In stark contrast to Larissa's, his sword was a greatsword—nearly one point seven meters in length, with a width equal to two palms. Its broad, heavy blade radiated an oppressive weight.
"Aegon, do you know?" Larissa spoke slowly, eyes still fixed on the blade she polished.
Aegon had no desire to answer a woman who couldn't even look at him when speaking. He simply twirled his sword in a few flourishes, loosening his wrists and letting his body ease into combat readiness.
"Your mother and I have been as close as sisters since childhood, so…"
With a sudden flick, Larissa's steel sword swung down and angled toward the ground. The air split with a sharp, piercing cry like a bird's shriek.
"I will spare your life. You should be grateful for my mercy!" she declared arrogantly.
Aegon still gave no response.
With his strength, he might not lose—and even if the fight turned against him, he still had his hidden trump card, the bone poison.
Maegor, watching from the royal seats, waved impatiently toward the cleric reciting the rites.
He found the lengthy ceremony tedious.
He was no follower of the Seven, and his father, the Emperor, had never taught him to play the role of a pious priest. To Maegor, such displays were little more than pretentious theatrics.
The presiding cleric, seeing the king's signal, reluctantly bowed to the royal family before slowly stepping down.
At that moment, all eyes were fixed on the center of Dragon Square, where the two Dragonkin stood locked in a tense standoff, swords at the ready.
Aegon gripped his greatsword tightly with both hands and assumed the crouching guard stance of Valyrian Military Swordsmanship—a posture he had drilled to perfection, so ingrained it had become instinct. He knew all too well the strength of his opponent and dared not hold anything back.
Without delay, he activated the magic energy within his body.
Veins like tiny earthworms bulged beneath his skin, glistening with an eerie light under the sun.
Larissa was ranked No. 1 in the Demon-Hunting Knights, with both strength and agility reaching the extraordinary peak of IV-level—and that was without even considering her fearsome, near-unbreakable Swift Sword technique.
Against such an opponent, any underestimation was nothing short of suicide.
Aegon began to move cautiously, circling Larissa, trying to maneuver behind her or to the left—her dominant-hand side—while keeping his eyes locked on her every subtle movement, searching for even the smallest opening.
"Don't waste your effort."
Larissa gave a slight shake of her head, and just as her voice faded, a sharp, piercing sound like a bird's cry suddenly rang out across the square.
Then came the shocking sight.
The ground in front of her was split open by an invisible blade, leaving a deep gouge in the stone as dust billowed into the air.
Grand Maester Gawen, who was watching from the stands, leaned forward in disbelief.
"Larissa clearly didn't swing her sword—so why is there a cut in front of her? And that strange whistling… what in the world is going on?!"
Visenya let out a soft laugh, turning to patiently explain to the Targaryen dynasty's old adviser.
"It's because Larissa's sword is so fast it surpasses the limits of ordinary sight.
"The Swift Sword technique relies on swinging at a specific frequency to keep the blade in constant high-speed motion. The only moment it pauses or changes form is right at the very first swing.
"That's why she can appear motionless while the ground around her keeps tearing open with slashes."
Larissa held her thin, steel sword steady in her right hand, the blade angled toward the ground, while her left hand rested elegantly behind her back.
With unhurried steps, she advanced toward Aegon.
Each time her foot touched the ground, deep sword marks appeared out of nowhere, sending chips of stone scattering.
Her chin lifted slightly, her eyes brimming with haughty disdain. The grace in her stride was undeniable, yet it pressed down on Aegon with the weight of a mountain.
The sword's high-pitched whistle through the air grew faster and denser. The slashes tearing open beside her multiplied and quickened, shrinking the distance between them with alarming speed.
A bead of cold sweat slid silently down Aegon's temple.
He was different from ordinary men—his extraordinary perception allowed him to track the accelerating arcs of Larissa's Swift Sword.
But it was exactly because he could see so clearly that he understood, with chilling clarity, the terrifying speed behind her strikes.
In his vision, Larissa's right arm was like the thousand hands of Guanyin, countless phantom limbs moving in precise rhythm, swinging ever faster. The blade flashed like lightning, slicing the ground to shreds.
When she crossed into the three-meter range, Aegon's V-level Absolute Perception kicked in.
Her swordplay slowed severalfold in his eyes.
Just as Viserys had claimed, Visenya's eyes truly were the "strongest eyes"—able to capture every movement even against such extraordinary swordsmanship.
But facing her relentless advance, Aegon did not yield an inch.
With a sudden burst of power, he swung his greatsword in a heavy horizontal slash toward Larissa.
He was certain—no matter how fast her sword was, his weapon had the advantage in reach. This wasn't some fantastical realm where sword auras could cut from afar; in real combat, the principle of "every inch longer, an inch stronger" was absolute.
The moment his greatsword entered her attack range, the sharp clang of metal-on-metal rang out in rapid succession.
His powerful strike was intercepted not once, but nearly ten times in the span of a heartbeat.
Such a staggering defensive frequency was enough to chill the blood.
From Gawen's perspective, it was almost supernatural—he never saw Larissa raise her sword to block, yet sparks kept bursting from the greatsword with each clash, the scene unnerving in its strangeness.
Then came a resounding crash.
Aegon's strike failed to break through the web of her defenses and was instead violently knocked back.
By now, Larissa had closed to within two meters of him, the danger pressing in from all sides.
And just at that critical instant…
With astonishing reflexes, Aegon twisted his spine, using the rebound of his greatsword's deflection to fuel a spinning slash. The massive blade cut through the air with a roar, arcing down from the upper right toward Larissa.
A faint smirk curved Larissa's lips.
This is pointless, she thought. His strength with that greatsword has only just reached IV-level. He's no threat to me.
In truth, the one thing the Swift Sword feared most was brute force interrupting its continuous swing frequency.
If the sword speed dropped, it would have to start over, swinging again and again to rebuild momentum. That acceleration window was the Swift Sword's greatest flaw.
Which was why, so long as she didn't face a brute-force type dragon descendant, Larissa could crush almost any opponent among the Dragonkin.
She raised her head slightly, steel sword flashing like lightning as she struck against Aegon's greatsword again and again.
Just as she'd expected, his blade was being pushed off line under her unrelenting assault, its momentum steadily drained away with each clash. Another few exchanges and she would have repelled him entirely.
Then—suddenly—everything changed.
A surge of dense magic erupted from Aegon's blade, followed by a wave of force that exploded outward like a breaking tide.
Boom!
The shock slammed into Larissa's sword, knocking it off course and breaking the smooth flow of her strikes.
Aegon pressed the advantage, swinging wildly in a storm of blows. Each strike detonated on impact, the explosive force rattling the square.
Larissa's brow furrowed. She knew this technique well—it was the Explosive Sword technique, ranked No. 12 in the Demon-Hunting Knights.
What puzzled her was why Aegon knew it at all—and how its power far exceeded Davos's, as though this were an enhanced version of the technique itself.
With his extraordinary sword skill unleashed, Aegon finally managed to steady himself in their fierce duel.
The two swords clashed, rebounded, and clashed again, the sharp ring of steel echoing again and again across the square.
Up in the stands, Maegor couldn't help but cheer for Aegon, and the gathered ministers joined in with applause.
The fight was breathtaking—neither side giving an inch, the tension thick in the air, every clash carrying lethal risk.
Explosive sword skills drain magic fast. Let's see how long you can keep this up, Larissa thought darkly, redoubling her assault.
But Aegon used the reach of his greatsword to control the distance between them, keeping her from closing in.
He had no fear of a prolonged battle. His V-level magic talent gave him 199 magic points to draw on; his only concern was that releasing too much at once might trigger his awakening. Exhausting his reserves didn't worry him in the least.
Even so, he knew that dragging this out might invite trouble. He had no idea if Larissa still had a hidden trump card.
Without a hint of change in his expression, he pressed a raised stud on his hilt.
From within the blade, the bone poison was released.
Aegon held his breath and stepped back, leaving the spreading cloud in Larissa's path.
Thinking he had run out of magic, Larissa lunged forward aggressively—straight into the drifting poison.
At first, she noticed nothing.
Then the weakness hit, her once-agile sword arm turning sluggish and unresponsive.
Clang!
Their swords met again, but this time, her thin blade was knocked from her grasp.
Her eyes went wide in disbelief.
Aegon stepped in and slammed the flat of his greatsword against her cheek.
A dull thud rang out.
Larissa collapsed unconscious, her body falling backward.
Aegon glanced once at the swollen welt on her face, shook his head, sheathed his sword, and turned to the viewing platform to await the verdict.
"Good! Haha! Brilliant!" Maegor leapt to his feet, clapping hard, a wide grin splitting his face.
The Red Party erupted into cheers, celebrating the hard-earned victory.
Little Aegon, however, sat with a face so dark it looked ready to drip ink.
He had never imagined that Larissa—No. 1 of the Demon-Hunting Knights, famed as the strongest Dragonkin—would lose. Could it be that Empress Visenya's golden eyes truly held the power to turn defeat into triumph?
...
With the trial by combat concluded, the outcome was sealed.
A messenger was sent to the guillotine at the Dragonlord's Gate to order Viserys's execution.
Viserys turned his head in despair, watching as the rope holding the blade was severed.
In an instant, the thousand-pound guillotine dropped like lightning. With a heavy thud, the platinum-lead king's head was severed cleanly, purple blood spraying like a fountain, arcing more than ten meters across the ground in a gruesome display.
In front of Visenya Palace, Little Aegon, seething with fury, tore the Demon-Hunting Knights' necklace from his neck and hurled it onto the square.
He strode toward Maegor with a cold snort.
His eyes blazed as he locked onto Maegor.
"We lost this battle."
"Hmph. I've no interest in trading words with losers. You're not even qualified to raise your voice before me." A cold glint flashed in Maegor's eyes as he cut him down with words.
Grinding his teeth, Little Aegon's magic flared like roiling smoke. Slowly, he opened his palm, and a black iron spike emerged from his skin, resting firmly in his grip.
"What, you little brat—you think you can fight me?" Maegor tilted his head, his smirk dripping with contempt.
At that moment, Empress Rhaenys rose from her seat, striding quickly to Little Aegon's side. She turned to Maegor and spoke loudly.
"In this match, you may have used underhanded means to claim victory, but we accept the loss."
"But tell me, dear nephew—would you still dare to wager another fight with me?"
"Oh? And what's the stake?"
Maegor's expression sharpened, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
Rhaenys tapped the Sevenstar Crown atop her head.
"The position of Pope of the Faith of the Seven, and the throne of the king. This time, dragonborn are not barred from entering.
The match will decide not only victory—but the fate of all."