Under the silver-white moonlight, Viserys's short silver-gold hair and violet eyes shimmered until he fastened his helmet.
His black armor was as dark as dust, and his black cloak was embroidered with the three-headed red dragon sigil.
Viserys hid his soldiers behind the ridge of the hill, avoiding observation from the Tyroshi camp below.
The Tyroshi were so used to doing whatever they pleased that their defenses were completely lax.
Perhaps they thought the Andals were soft, and their rare attempts at revenge weren't worth worrying about.
Viserys felt like a cheetah, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
The soldiers could hear it—the clamor of the Tyroshi, the wailing of local Andal women, the prayers of boys and girls. It was a massive humiliation.
Many Andal soldiers were already seething with rage, ready to attack the Tyroshi slavers' camp at any moment.
"Anyone who moves without orders will be severely punished," Viserys commanded succinctly and forcefully. Everything was for the moment of the killing strike; mercy does not command an army.
When the Hour of the Wolf finally arrived—the darkest moment of the day.
When the sentries on the Tyroshi watchtowers grew weary, Viserys knew the time for war had come.
Viserys felt his blood burning; he craved slaughter and battle.
There would never be a better opportunity to strike.
"Kill!" Viserys waved the longsword in his hand.
The fires of war ignited instantly as a multi-layered attack unfolded.
First, the crossbowmen of the first century stealthily approached the watchtowers and shot the Tyroshi sentries.
Crossbows were made for ambushes, perfect for finishing off enemies at close to medium range.
Then, the other infantry moved at Viserys's command, pushing down the wooden palisade of the Tyroshi camp. The logs crashed to the ground with a heavy, whistling sound.
"Kill the Tyroshi!"
"Kill the Tyroshi!" The soldiers' roar echoed through the entire camp. Infantry attacked from two sides, while Viserys's thirty cavalrymen charged as the vanguard, fierce as dragons and tigers.
Viserys wielded his silver longsword. In this moment, he truly seemed like the Warrior descended to earth, the deity himself residing within him.
Tyroshi were easy to recognize. They loved bright colors, dyeing their hair and beards in vibrant shades of blue, green, maroon, pink, purple, scarlet, and vermilion.
"Enemy attack!"
"Enemy attack!" The Tyroshi shouted in panic.
"Is it a dragon?"
"A ferocious demon dragon!"
Seeing Viserys's exaggerated dragon-winged helm, with its spread wings and snarling horns, the confused Tyroshi thought a demon dragon had taken human form.
They were slow to react, never expecting such an ambush while trafficking slaves in Andalos.
Tyroshi occasionally came to capture slaves, and the Andals were rarely a match for them.
However, the Tyroshi mercenaries were experienced veterans. In their haste, they managed to organize a counterattack.
Some died inexplicably, shot by crossbows in the confusion; a portion were thrown from their horses.
Others grabbed their weapons.
Fire raged through the camp; the watchtowers and palisades were ablaze, casting an orange glow on the soldiers' faces.
Viserys, slaughtering in all directions, looked like a demon dragon resurrected as a man.
Viserys's longsword spun and slashed through the air. A blue-haired Tyroshi who hadn't finished donning his armor was startled.
Then, the sharp blade carved a wound across his chest. A fountain of red spurted forth, and the corpse collapsed softly to the ground.
Viserys encountered a red-haired mercenary swinging a morning star, aiming to smash his head.
"Die!" Viserys parried and dodged, letting the whistling morning star strike his breastplate, leaving a dent.
Viserys's longsword struck back viciously, forcing the mercenary to retreat.
The red-haired mercenary tried to strike again, swinging the morning star at Viserys's helmet. Viserys caught the chain with his off-hand and yanked, instantly closing the distance between the two warriors.
The red-haired Tyroshi was shocked and tried to reach for another weapon at his waist.
Unexpectedly, Viserys quickly drew a dragonbone-hilted Valyrian steel dagger. The smoky, dark blade plunged directly into the gap of the Tyroshi's neck armor.
This series of movements happened in the blink of an eye, the whistling blade singing a song of death.
Thud! The Tyroshi's corpse slid limply to the ground, the morning star hitting the earth with a dull thud.
"The Warrior!"
"Warrior Viserys!" The soldiers chanted the King's name, the unique warrior of this era.
"Kill!"
"Leave no one alive!" Ser Roland roared. The Tyroshi camp became a slaughterhouse.
The first cavalry charge had been crushing, followed by the infantry filling the gaps.
"Die!" Furious Andals roared, stabbing Tyroshi bodies with multiple spears or crushing mercenaries under oak shields before hacking them with axes.
Andal infantry lacked the individual skill of Tyroshi mercenaries, but their crescent spear formation and numerical superiority made them ruthlessly effective.
Moreover, crossbowmen assisted the spear wall, their devilish weapons targeting weak points.
The horn sounded for the second charge. Viserys slashed left and right, but fewer and fewer enemies could threaten him.
The Tyroshi were like small boats in a storm, capsized again and again until nothing remained.
Aside from killing, the supplies, warhorses, and armor in the camp were taken whenever possible; these were valuable assets.
The rescued Andals also took action. Children were protected by Viserys's soldiers, while adult men and women joined in taking revenge on the Tyroshi.
"Kill them! Don't spare the Tyroshi!" The Andals' rage against the slavers turned the place into a butcher's yard.
The camp became a realm of fire and blood, the scent of gore permeating the night air.
Tyroshi tents were pushed over, revealing hacked mercenaries everywhere. Human organs were scattered like spare parts as the Andals vented their fury.
Viserys's black armored cavalry patrolled the camp, ensuring no one escaped alive.
When the battle was decided, three surviving Tyroshi slavers were brought forward, held by Viserys's spearmen.
These purple-haired, blue-haired slavers with gaudy gem rings on their fingers were terrified out of their wits, unable to resist.
Their hair and beards were oiled, their hands adorned with tourmaline, agate, and gold rings.
Slavers were greedy, but seeing rivers of blood terrified them.
The noise and chaos of the battlefield attracted attention. The hiding Andals from the west bank slowly gathered.
They looked in wonder at the avenging soldiers, like divine troops descending from heaven. The black-and-red dragon banner told them this was an extraordinary force.
"Mercy!"
"Mercy!" The once-arrogant slavers were now quivering like quail.
"Dragon King, great Dragon King, please spare us." The Tyroshi slavers didn't know why Viserys was here, but begging was their only chance.
"Ransom! We are willing to pay ransom! We can give you gold!" The slavers wailed, grasping at straws.
"The problem now cannot be solved with money." Viserys removed his dragon-winged helmet and shook his head, radiating a thick scent of blood.
He looked like a handsome young man, but also a cold, bloodthirsty warrior.
"For freedom. Andals shall never be slaves," Viserys said. The slavers' faces grew uglier.
"Mercy." The slavers' legs turned to jelly.
"Kill them, my lord! Kill them!" shouted the captured Andal women. "They killed my husband and burned our village!"
"They killed my father too!" many Andal children cried.
"For freedom. Andals shall never be slaves," Viserys repeated.
"In that case, the heads of scum like you should end up like this." Viserys strode forward and swung his longsword. A Tyroshi head flew through the air, trailing a spray of blood.
[Fate-Reverser Viserys Targaryen has executed multiple "Villains" in battle. Reward: Basic Attribute Increase (Strength →, Agility →)]
Seeing his attributes rise, Viserys knew killing these Tyroshi slavers was the right move. Every single one was trash, scum.
Kidnapping and slave trading were the most detestable crimes. Killing them boosted Viserys's stats and earned him a group of loyal followers.
"If you kill us, you will absolutely incur the hatred of the Tyroshi Slavers' Guild!" the last surviving slaver threatened.
Are you kidding? If the Tyroshi slavers come, won't that just push the Andals further into my arms?
"I welcome it. I will demand repayment for this blood debt from the slavers." Viserys's blade danced wildly. With a sweeping arc, the third slaver's head flew, blood splattering the nearby soil.
With that, not a single Tyroshi slaver remained.
This bloody execution shocked the watching warriors and Andal villagers.
But moments later, an even greater passion erupted from the crowd.
"Viserys!"
"Warrior Viserys!"
"Warrior Viserys!"
"For freedom! Fight for Viserys! Fight for the King!" Warriors, and then everyone else, shouted feverishly.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands of arms reached out, chanting one name.
Whether original Andal warriors or the suffering Andals of the west bank, all were shouting Viserys's name.
Viserys understood. These west bank Andals would now follow him as well.