Three days after Ghidorah's rebirth.
Viserys sat cross-legged in the center of the cave, surrounded by faint halos of energy—remnants of the high-dimensional power Ghidorah had released during its rebirth, now mingled with the native mana. At a speed visible to the naked eye, the strange energy poured into his body.
As for why this was happening, the story had to go back three days, to the moment Ghidorah had just returned to life.
"Contractor, the energy here is dissipating." Ghidorah's will spoke directly into Viserys's mind, the voice like a three-part harmony. "The force I released during my rebirth, together with the residual mana, is returning to the world's source. I can help you absorb it—raise your Life Tier."
"What should I do?" Viserys asked.
"Touch the head in the center."
Viserys reached out, pressing his palm against the dark-gold scale on the middle brow. The instant they touched, a warm current surged up his arm like molten metal flowing through his veins.
"Relax. Let the energy run through your bloodline; don't force it. But you must learn to throttle the flow—too fast will burst you, too slow will waste it."
Viserys adjusted his breathing.
On the first day, Viserys felt his body being rebuilt.
Energy surged through him, scouring every inch of flesh. Ghidorah guided from the side: "Your body is too frail, contractor. Among a carbon-based species I once met, even the weakest individual had triple your physique."
The remolding brought no pain; it felt more like a constant breeze brushing his skin. He could hear faint sounds inside—bones strengthening.
By nightfall he could crush stone bare-handed.
On the second day, the energy seeped into his mana channels.
"What you call 'magic' is merely an inefficient use of energy," Ghidorah's thought carried disdain. "Let me teach you true manipulation."
Viserys's former sorcery had been like coarse hemp rope; now Ghidorah was unraveling, re-weaving, braiding it into fine silk. He learned to compress mana, increase spell power, and other applications.
He tested them in the cave.
A crimson fireball the size of a fist formed above his palm, shot out, and blasted a two-meter scorch into the rock wall.
"Fast progress," Ghidorah judged, "but still far from enough."
On the third day, Viserys sharpened his mental perception.
Eyes closed, he could "see" the energy halos more clearly than ever—and events far away. Even in Westeros, far to the north, something icy was awakening.
"That is Night Lion's aura." Ghidorah's mind turned wary. "Your senses are keener than I expected—good, yet dangerous. Others can feel your probe. For now, we'd best avoid them."
"Now try to gather your will to control Little Black," Ghidorah instructed. "No need to speak; this world's high draconic art—man and dragon as one."
Viserys focused, linking to the Black Dragon far away, imagining he was the dragon. When he opened his eyes again, he saw through Blackflame's vision and could give orders without Valyrian. It was an advanced form of skinchanging—ordinary ones can't control magical beasts.
Back to the present: Viserys absorbed the last wisp of energy, stood, and flexed his limbs.
He had grown a few centimeters; his muscles were leaner. The clearest change was in his eyes—his once lilac irises now held a faint, shifting golden sheen.
"Excellent," Ghidorah's thought carried approval. "Your physique is at least triple what it was. More importantly, your Life Tier is higher; my essence has altered your mana nature. From now on you have innate affinity for flame, frost, and Gravity."
After feeling his new body, Viserys looked at Ghidorah. "Time to leave."
At that moment the Black Dragon "Blackflame" landed outside the cave—its name freshly given by Viserys.
Before Ghidorah it lowered its head and let out a deep rumble of submission.
"It remembers my scent." All three of Ghidorah's heads turned toward the dragon. "Though I am reborn, my essence is unchanged. In its simple mind I am both 'mother' and its king."
Viserys lifted Ghidorah. Though tiger-sized, it weighed little, as if cast from hollow metal.
"When will you be able to fly?"
"A while yet—my wings aren't fully grown." Ghidorah folded its thin membrane wings. "For now, let it carry us back."
Viserys mounted the Black Dragon's neck and set Ghidorah upon its back. With a beat of wings the Valyrian Peninsula quickly fell beneath them.
From above, the peninsula's apocalyptic landscape was still shocking, yet Viserys noticed the twisted magical fields slowly weakening. Ghidorah confirmed, "My rebirth consumed most of the residual aberrant energy. In time the land will normalize—years, maybe decades—but the lethal magical contamination will recede first."
"What does that mean?"
"That these lands can be inhabited again," Ghidorah replied. "You could build a new kingdom here without fear of your people warping into monsters."
An idea stirred in Viserys's mind; a plan began to form.
After a short flight the obsidian castle of the Satherean family came into view.
The dragon's landing in the castle yard caused quite a stir.
Ser Arthur led soldiers forward. They had lived alongside the dragon for a while—respectful but not terrified. Yet when Viserys stepped down holding Ghidorah, everyone froze.
Silence fell first.
Then came a chorus of sharp intakes of breath.
"By the Seven…" A young soldier's spear clattered to the ground.
Ghidorah's three heads turned slowly, six golden eyes sweeping the crowd. It released no pressure, but its mere presence made most step back instinctively.
"My lords," Viserys's voice rang clear. "Allow me to introduce Ghidorah—pinnacle creation of Valyrian magical civilization, king among dragons. The Doom did not destroy it; it slumbered until today, awakened by the blood of I, a Targaryen dragonlord."
He raised his right hand, palm up. Ghidorah's left head dipped, right head lifted, forming the sigil of House Targaryen.
"It recognizes me," Viserys continued. "What that means, I believe you understand."
Ser Arthur was first to drop to one knee. "You are the Dragon King—beyond dispute."
Next Ser Alliser and the surviving soldiers knelt across the yard. Even the remnants of House Nahalo, after a brief hesitation, bowed in homage.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898