Jon Arryn raised his head, his gaze seemingly wanting to pierce through the layers of megalithic domes, looking towards the sky shrouded in eternal winter.
There were no stars here, no moonlight, only a heavy, suffocating dark blue.
Just then, a long roar suddenly came from the horizon.
The sound was full of ancientness, majesty, and a rage that could burn everything to ashes.
A huge shadow obscured the pale moonlight.
Immediately following were the second and third roars!
The clouds were violently torn apart, and several burning meteors fell from the heavens, illuminating the sky!
No, those were not meteors.
They were Dragons!
Four giant Dragons!
Their massive bodies were covered in thick scales, and their outstretched wings seemed to obscure the entire sky over King's Landing.
The next moment, Dragonflame poured down like divine punishment!
Golden, crimson, and gray torrents of flames swept across the army of wights; there were no screams, only the fierce hissing and explosions as ice and fire collided.
The cold was instantly evaporated, and the dead were directly vaporized in the flames, leaving no ashes behind.
The once pale ground was ploughed into several charred, lava-flowing gullies, and the dazzling light illuminated the night sky as if it were day!
On the back of the largest, golden Dragon, a figure stood proudly.
He was like a deity who had stepped out of ancient legends, his silver-gold hair wildly dancing in the hot wind, reflecting the hellish flames below.
"Targaryen!"
Inside the bunker, someone, it was unclear who, was the first to shout out hoarsely.
"It's His Majesty Viserys! Reinforcements... reinforcements have arrived!"
In an instant, the surviving defenders raised their heads from behind cover, from among the piles of corpses; their frozen blood seemed to flow again.
The Night King's finger, which had been tapping the iron throne, also paused for the first time.
He raised his head, looking towards the sky obscured by Dragon wings.
Viserys Targaryen stood on the golden back of Sunfyre, his silver-gold hair wildly fluttering from the flapping of the Dragon's wings.
His golden armor reflected dazzling light in the pale sunlight filtering through the clouds, as if he himself were a sun that had fallen to earth.
Viserys Targaryen looked down at the city below, which was being eroded by death, his gaze finally settling on the The Red Keep's summit, on the pale figure sitting on the iron throne.
"Rise,"
Viserys Targaryen's voice pierced through the cold wind, resounding throughout King's Landing: "The iron throne, this is the Targaryen's place!"
Viserys Targaryen's words seemed to completely disregard the universally feared Death before him.
But, this was merely the prelude.
The next moment, the clouds were dyed crimson by even more scorching flames.
Daenerys Targaryen rode Merias, and Rhaenys Targaryen and Young Aegon also commanded Dragons to join the battle.
The Dragons were like moving chariots, carrying an all-consuming majesty.
Four adult Dragons, in their most magnificent and violent form, returned to the land their ancestors had once conquered!
However, this was not the end.
On the horizon, Dothraki warriors surged over the hills like a black tide.
Their Arakh scimitars, empowered by Viserys Targaryen's sorcery, ignited with scorching Dragonflame, like a sea of death sweeping across the land.
Deafening war cries—"Blood and Fire"—converged into a sound wave that swept across heaven and earth, even suppressing the army of wights with this wild vitality.
At the same time, from the direction of King's Landing's broken city gates, came heavy, rhythmic footsteps, like the running of steel machinery.
The Unsullied, forming an impenetrable phalanx of dragonglass spears, advanced like a moving forest of steel, silently and resolutely cutting into the chaotic flank of the wight army.
There were no shouts, only the dull thud of spears piercing decaying bodies, and the teeth-grinding metallic clang of shields colliding.
The tide of battle turned in an instant.
The previously unstoppable army of wights now melted rapidly, like snow exposed to the scorching sun.
Grey, red, and scarlet flames, like giant whips wielded by deities, ploughed charred, lava-flowing gullies through the pale tide.
Wights turned into torches in swathes, then were directly vaporized by the extremely high temperature, leaving no ashes behind.
Dothraki cavalry cut through the wight formations like a hot knife through butter, scattering them.
And the Unsullied were like the most precise killing machines; every step forward left behind layers of shattered remains on the ground.
An overwhelming victory!
An undisputed overwhelming victory!
Inside the The Red Keep, Jon Arryn and his soldiers, who were entangled with the remaining wights, watched all of this in stunned silence.
Their desperate struggle, which they had endured with such difficulty, became a one-sided slaughter in the face of these forces.
A young squire even forgot to wield his sword, merely gaping at the golden Dragon outside the window.
Sunfyre's Dragonflame turned dozens of wights and a giant skeleton, who were attempting to climb the The Red Keep's walls, into a towering pillar of fire.
The people of King's Landing, who had been trembling in cellars and ruined houses, now cautiously peeked out, observing everything.
They witnessed unforgettable sights: Dragons soaring in the sky, breathing world-purifying flames; fierce cavalry galloping on the ground, crushing the monsters that brought death; and an army of steel marching with resolute steps, reclaiming every inch of the city.
"Gods above..."
An old woman murmured, murky tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.
But this time, it was not out of fear, but from a shock that was almost miraculous and the ecstasy of being saved.
"It's the Targaryen, the true dragon has returned!"
Someone pointed at the three circling Dragon shadows in the sky, their voice distorted with excitement.
Hope, like a spark, rekindled in the silent city, hotter than Dragonflame.
The Night King finally could not sit still.
He slowly rose from the iron throne, the cold around him intensifying abruptly, attempting to re-freeze the entire world with him at its center.
The ice dragon flapped its broken skeleton, struggling to take flight, attempting to intercept this overlord from the sky.
But Viserys Targaryen gave him no chance.
Sunfyre, sensing his rider's will, let out a roar that tore through the sky.
With unparalleled speed and power, they charged straight towards the The Red Keep's summit, like a golden meteor!
Dragonflame converged before him, forming an unprecedented, incandescent white beam of light powerful enough to pierce the earth!
Light and dark, fire and ice, life and death.
Above this city, a symbol of power and conflict, the final collision arrived.
The Long Night truly seemed to be illuminated by this blazing sun.
"Mere mortal struggles."
The Night King looked up at the golden Dragon charging towards him in the clouds, his eyes filled with the indifference of a millennia-old glacier.
It was not the gaze of one looking at an opponent, but the gaze of a deity examining dust.