Has the magic-devouring spell been triggered?"
Viserys Targaryen murmured as he looked at the seven-pointed star array in front of him.
Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he placed Euron Greyjoy's sea dragon eggs onto it.
Instantly, the ruby in Viserys Targaryen's hand became dazzling, and the entire The Temple of the Undying echoed with the carol of the Valyria Dragonlords.
The dragon eggs shattered inch by inch, and a massive amount of magic transformed into countless phantoms of the first men kneeling between the pillars.
The gem also automatically embedded itself into his breastplate, continuously absorbing the magic emanating from the dragon eggs.
"Is this the power of Valyria wizards?"
Viserys Targaryen suddenly felt a chill.
He recalled the secret passed down through generations of Valyria Dragonlords: "Targaryen are both the blood of the Dragon and prisoners of fire. When they acquire sorcery, they themselves will become new sacrifices!"
Suddenly, the gem on his chest grew hot.
The doomsday murals on the walls of the The Temple of the Undying actually cracked.
Countless streams of lava surged out from the stone walls, transforming into fourteen scorching rivers of fire that rushed towards him.
An ancient dragon roar seemed to come from deep within the The Temple of the Undying, and this time, he finally understood what they were saying: "When the devourer and the devoured become one, the Dragonlord shall return."
"Sunfyre!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Viserys Targaryen desperately pulled Sunfyre's dragon reins and fled the sea of fire, spreading his wings.
Watching the desert oasis beneath him instantly turn into erupting volcanic lava, even Viserys Targaryen was greatly startled.
Qarth was actually a desert oasis built inside a volcano!
However, in the next moment, he found himself in a world of trouble.
On his chest, there was a huge, burnt imprint of a dragon's claw.
"Damn it, has some unknown entity marked me?"
Viserys Targaryen's eyes narrowed, his violet-gold pupils spun wildly, and in an instant, his pupils turned completely golden:
Viserys Targaryen, Dreamwalker, Dragonrider of the golden dragon Sunfyre, Old Valyria Dragonblood Sorcerer!
Spirit: 80 (Strong spiritual power)
Physique: 76 (Abundant bloodline)
Agility: 75 (Young and strong)
Strength: 70 (Strong and healthy)
Magic: 70 (Dreamwalker awakened)
Path to Godhood: Activated!
"Path to Godhood, what is this thing?"
Viserys Targaryen's face was ashen; clearly, he had been targeted by something the wizards spoke of.
The situation had already far exceeded his imagination.
Whether it was Daenerys Targaryen's strangely shaped lizard stillbirth in the original story, or his own future descent into madness like his father Aerys, Viserys Targaryen felt a chill down his spine.
"Buzz!"
Viserys suddenly felt his chest grow hot, and when he looked down, he was completely stunned.
The ruby embedded in his armor now glowed like a burning dragon's eye, projecting a moving image into the air, like a light screen casually opened by some god.
The man in the image, wearing a black bear fur cloak and a black iron stag crown, was Robert Baratheon.
This man, who once had a blood feud with him, this usurper who took everything from his family, was now excitedly wielding his warhammer on the snowy plains beyond the Wall, as if the God of War had returned.
Wildlings scattered like straw beneath his hammer, blood splattering on his gnarled black beard, and across thousands of mountains and rivers, their gazes met.
Robert Baratheon suddenly turned his head, his dark eyes piercing through the light screen directly towards him.
There was no surprise in that gaze, but rather towering rage and disdain?
"You skulking Targaryen bastard!"
"Descendant of the monstrous dragon!"
Robert Baratheon's roar actually carried through the light and shadow.
The next moment, the warhammer, carrying a dark black glow, smashed down heavily, and the light screen shattered into countless glowing fireflies.
Viserys Targaryen's face turned pale.
In the fragments of the light screen that were about to dissipate, he saw something even more terrifying.
Not Robert, not the wildlings, but the Fist of the first men behind Robert Baratheon.
Pair after pair of icy blue eyes flickered in and out of sight in the dim storm.
Those were wights, the legendary masters of the Long Night.
And that House Stark boy, Bran Stark, he had actually gone beyond the Wall with that idiot Robert Baratheon!
"Home delivery, you imbecile!"
Viserys Targaryen felt a chill run down his spine.
He didn't think he could easily defeat the king of the Long Night after losing human history!
"Wait for me, die slowly, Bran Stark!"
..."What was that just now?"
Ned Stark, wearing gray wolf leather armor, abruptly asked his good friend Robert Baratheon.
That silver hair and violet eyes, not just Robert Baratheon, but almost everyone knew exactly who it was!
Everyone knew that Viserys Targaryen was a Dragonrider, and even a sorcerer who could use magic.
"Hahaha, that brat Viserys, he's still too green to contend with me!"
Robert Baratheon picked up his wine gourd and drank heartily.
Since he had led his army beyond the Wall, he had been like a tiger among sheep, unstoppable.
Not only had he, with the help of the Red Priestess Melisandre, sacrificed Maester Aemon Targaryen and successfully hatched a Hatchling Dragon.
Even Mance Rayder, known as the King-Beyond-the-Wall, had been personally captured alive by him leading his troops.
The wildling tribes, boasting an army of a hundred thousand, had been utterly crushed by him like autumn leaves swept away, no longer able to threaten the safety of the Wall.
Now, Robert Baratheon had money, land, a dragon, and soldiers; he simply couldn't imagine how he could lose?
At this moment, Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, was chained and kneeling in the snow.
He was like an old wolf with its fangs pulled out, his disheveled hair matted with ice.
Robert Baratheon stood there, leaning on his warhammer, his heavy sable cloak flapping in the wind.
"Kneel, and pay homage to the new King!"
A knight kicked Mance in the face.
However, Mance Rayder just smiled, exhaling white mist: "Beyond the Wall, the free folk never surrender!"
Hearing this, Robert Baratheon burst into laughter, his laughter even shaking the snow from the nearby banners.
"Your wildling army has scattered. Kneel now and swear fealty, and I might even grant you a fiefdom."
King Robert pointed south, towards the green lands protected by walls.
He, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, no one on the continent of Westeros had dared to disobey his command to this day!
Hearing this, Mance Rayder shook his head, making the chains clank: "You wouldn't understand, southerner. While you sit in warm King's Landing enjoying life, you wouldn't know what's happening beyond the Wall!"
"Winter is coming,"
Mance's voice suddenly deepened, like a wind blowing from the polar regions, "House Stark always says that, but you southerners have never truly understood."
"This isn't an ordinary winter,"
Mance looked up, his eyes unusually bright against the snow, "This is the time of the Long Night's return. Every free folk you kill, if not cremated, will join the army of the dead."
Listening to his utterly preposterous words, Robert Baratheon dismissively waved his hand and laughed even louder: "Just some fairy tales to scare children! My warhammer can crush any enemy, whether living or dead."
Robert struck the frozen ground with his warhammer, emitting a dull thud, "There is only one true King in the world. Either surrender, or die!"