. And now.
Viserys was still in the exploratory stages of the Black Mist, the path ahead fraught with uncertainty.
So, he wanted to proactively explore other possibilities.
Even if they might not be practical right now, everything still depended on exploration.
Therefore,
"Give it a try."
Viserys pursed his lips, his gaze fixed on the last attribute in the Black Mist. "Moon," expressed in High Valyrian, represented the option for mental power.
Valyrians believed the moon represented spirit, soul, or will.
This was a unique feature of the language, and the word "moon" could also refer to the soul.
"My mental power far surpasses that of ordinary humans, and it has indeed granted me special abilities."
When Viserys's Moon Attribute reached 20, he awakened a special ability called Momentary Vision.
This ability allows him to temporarily slow down any dynamic movement within his field of vision. This powerful mental power instantly deconstructs the opponent's movements,
making them appear to be "slowed down," giving him more time to react.
This ability was naturally of immense benefit to Viserys. Just now, for example, he had relied on it to dodge a flying axe thrown by a mercenary, saving his life.
Viserys also understood the principle of leveraging strengths and avoiding weaknesses.
His current strength lay in his far superior mental strength.
He even looked forward to what would happen if his mental power reached its peak.
Then,
Viserys manipulated the absorbed black smoke into merging with the vast black mist, transforming into a fleeting ray of moonlight. The words symbolizing "moon" were bathed in a faint, bright white glow.
And then
nothing happened.
Viserys sat on the ground, leaning against the wall, staring at his sword.
Fortunately, Dragonstone's castle was large enough, and because of Prince Rhaegar's frugality and the island's inherent poverty, there were few servants or guards, so no one had yet discovered him.
Otherwise, someone might have thought the young king, unable to bear the pressure, was taking his own life.
"As expected,"
Viserys said with a calm expression.
He watched the lunar number remain unchanged at 20. His mind cleared slightly, as if consuming nectar, and his eyes blinked slightly. Instead of being surprised, his expression expressed a sense of composure.
He hadn't wasted the plume of black smoke, but instead used it to test the waters.
While he'd roughly guessed the result, Viserys was extremely cautious when dealing with something as important as the Black Mist.
He wouldn't resort to speculation, but instead insisted on verifying it through experimental results.
And the results were exactly as he'd expected.
The greater the ability, the more difficult it was to evolve. His mental power probably far exceeded the combined power of two people, perhaps even three, four, or more.
Therefore, his plan to rapidly evolve his mental power to peak levels was thwarted.
"We still need to develop a comprehensive approach,"
Viserys took a deep breath.
"And we don't know if using the Black Mist will pose any hidden dangers."
But now, Viserys had no choice.
He had to rely on the benefits it brought him, otherwise, facing the foreseeable future, any reversal would be difficult, if not impossible.
Even with the Black Mist's help, Viserys didn't relax. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to escape the shackles of fate and would eventually die in other ways. He didn't dare to relax.
"Your Highness!" "Your Highness is here, come quickly!"
At that moment,
the clang of
armor and the chaotic clatter of footsteps echoed as the castle guards, torches held high, searched the corridors, finally following the trail to Viserys.
All the sellswords who had infiltrated the castle had been slain.
The sole survivor, after a brief interrogation, was ordered by the hastily arrived steward, Ser Shad, to have his throat slit and his body dumped into the sea.
Upon hearing of the attack, the sergeant appeared distraught, filled with hatred for the attackers, eager to kill them.
Meanwhile, the guards discovered that the "little king's" chambers had also been attacked.
Two guards had been killed, and Viserys and Princess Rhaenys were nowhere to be found.
Ser Shad then ordered a search of the castle.
A terrified Rhaenys was found in the cellars, and another team had located Viserys.
The next morning.
The horror of last night had faded. Servants cleaned up the bloodstains within the castle, and the bodies of all the sellswords were dumped into the sea to feed the fish.
The body of the sellsword, whose rope Viserys had cut and fell from the castle cliffs, was discovered by fishermen preparing to go fishing in the morning.
Viserys was also somewhat frightened, but he fared better than the queen and Rhaenys.
He had also been restless for half the night, and his eyes were still bloodshot.
"Mother,"
Viserys said, greeting his mother in the Table Room atop the Stone Drum Tower, before taking a seat nearby.
The exhausted, silver-haired woman sat in the main seat, listening to the report from the commander of the Dragonstone fleet.
Although Viserys had been crowned "King," not even the Dragonstone guards addressed him as "Your Majesty."
Everyone understood that the title was merely a title.
Even now that the Targaryens had reclaimed the throne, Viserys could not sit on the Iron Throne.
Because he was too young, his mother, Queen Rhaella, served as regent, waiting for the king to come of age before handing over power.
So Viserys sat obediently on the side seat beside his mother, knees drawn together, hands resting on his lap. His long eyelashes fluttered, his eyes downcast, and he looked quiet, the perfect obedient child.
Meanwhile, the commander of the Dragonstone fleet, an old man with white hair and a beard, was speaking. He noticed Viserys's arrival and tilted his head slightly to glance at the boy.
There was a hint of curiosity in the old sergeant's eyes.
He was reporting to Queen Rhaella on the losses suffered by the Dragonstone fleet last night. While the enemy had been repelled, the fleet had inevitably suffered some damage.
He had also heard of what had happened within the castle.
His Highness's youngest brother, Prince Viserys, only seven years old, had, through some unknown means, killed three members of a vicious sellsword group last night.
"Your Highness,"
the commander of the Dragonstone fleet said with a slight nod.
"Ser Geoffrey,"
Viserys nodded at the old man's words, politely returning the greeting.
This was the first time he had met this sergeant since arriving at Dragonstone.
He commanded the fleet, but had not come to see Queen Rhaella and Viserys since their arrival.
And for some unknown reason, his mother had not taken the initiative to summon him.
.....
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(End of Chapter)