Just as Lynd was fusing the third character template, far away in the castle of Sumrhall, Nyria, who was handling official docunts in Lynd's study, suddenly noticed that the patterns on the surface of the dragon egg—resembling blood vessels—were glowing with a molten, lava-like light.
The Holy Sisters and Silent n standing guard in the room also witnessed the anomaly. Though they couldn't determine whether this was good or bad, their instincts led them to move protectively around Nyria, positioning her behind them.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Nyria reassured them with a gesture before rising to her feet.
In just two or three months, her belly had grown noticeably. Though she didn’t yet require assistance to move, her condition was already beginning to affect her mobility.
She approached the dragon egg, watching as its fiery glow pulsed and flickered, then tentatively reached out to touch it.
She had braced herself for the heat, but instead, her fingers were t with an unexpected chill—despite its fiery appearance, the egg felt as cold as ice.
The strange phenonon didn’t last long. Soon, the glow faded, and with a keen eye, Nyria noticed that new patterns had appeared on the egg’s surface.
“Lynd! Sothing must have happened to Lynd to cause this,” she murmured, gazing at the now-normal egg with a smile. “I don’t know exactly what, but at least we can be certain that our Lord Chosen One is still alive.”
At her words, the others in the room smiled as well. Even the usually expressionless Silent n showed a hint of relief.
Though Sumrhall’s affairs had remained stable in Lynd’s absence—thanks to careful managent—and external matters were even flourishing more than before, everyone knew that this prosperity was only temporary. Without definitive proof of Lynd’s fate, uncertainty lood.
As ti passed without his return, the likelihood of his death grew. The longer he remained missing, the more inevitable the brewing undercurrents of unrest would rise to the surface. Even with the backing of various factions, the region would eventually fall into turmoil—and her own Tumbleton would not be spared from the ripple effects.
But now, the dragon egg’s reaction was an undeniable sign that Lynd was alive. After days of tension, Nyria finally felt so relief.
“Should we spread word of this throughout the territory…?” Mus, her trusted aide in administrative affairs, asked in a asured tone.
Nyria considered the question for a mont before shaking her head. A faint, disdainful smile curved her lips. “No need. Let them keep dancing. We’ll deal with them when the count returns. For now, we just need to have a replacent list prepared in advance.”
Mus imdiately understood. Without further instruction, he coordinated with Balin, the Master of Whisperers, and Lothor, the Blood Armored commander, to continue keeping a close watch on the region’s figures of interest, while identifying candidates who were truly loyal.
If Nyria’s deduction about Lynd’s survival—based on the dragon egg’s reaction—was just a vague intuition, then confirmation arrived a few days later in the form of a Red Falcon-sealed letter from Baelor Blacktyde, captain of the Nightwalker. The letter provided solid proof: Lynd was not only alive, but he had also tad a sea dragon.
The mont she received the letter, Nyria wasted no ti in summoning a eting in the council hall of Redemption Town. Every official who could be gathered from Sumrhall was called to attend.
At the eting, she imdiately presented Baelor Blacktyde’s letter, announcing that Lynd was alive and had subjugated a sea dragon. With the sea dragon’s power, the Miracle Fleet would beco an unstoppable force.
Before the gathered officials could erupt into cheers, Nyria signaled Mus to proceed with the next order of business.
Mus stepped forward and began reading a list—a comprehensive register that spanned every administrative departnt in Sumrhall. The list contained over a hundred nas. Though none held the highest ranks, each individual played a role in areas such as public welfare, economy, and military affairs.
With every na Mus read, a Blood Armored soldier stepped forward to escort the corresponding person away. So resisted, only to be struck down on the spot by multiple Blood Armored warriors and the garrison forces.
Everyone understood the reason behind these arrests. While so pitied the condemned, most silently counted themselves lucky for having maintained their integrity and not betrayed Sumrhall’s interests.
And this was only the beginning.
The hundred nas revealed at the eting were rely a third of the full list. The remaining two-thirds were not in Redemption Town—but escape was impossible.
By the ti the eting concluded, those individuals were already being apprehended, either by the garrison, the Blood Armored warriors, or the Chosen Army.
In total, the internal purge of officials across Sumrhall and Tumbleton resulted in the removal of over three hundred individuals. When factoring in others implicated by association, the number exceeded two thousand.
So were sent to the mines to serve as laborers. The rest were executed.
No amount of pleading could sway Nyria.
Among those executed, so were wandering knights and free riders, but the majority were second or third sons, or bastards from noble houses across various territories. Their deaths inevitably offended these noble families, but Nyria didn’t care. She wanted to use this opportunity to send a clear ssage—this is the fate of traitors.
The purge also forced the Seven Kingdoms to re-evaluate Nyria, the sole beloved of Lynd. Her ruthless and decisive thods sent shockwaves through the realm. The sheer brutality of her actions earned her a new title: the Bloody Lady, marking the first ti she had been labeled with a na carrying such a definitive aning.
Yet, as much as people were stunned by Nyria’s cruelty, they were equally astounded by her political acun.
In any other territory, the sudden purge of over a hundred officials would have resulted in widespread chaos, potentially even leading to the collapse of governance and civil unrest.
But Sumrhall was different. The mont those officials were removed, an equal number of replacents were imdiately promoted to fill the gaps.
While there was so initial instability as the new officials assud their roles, order was restored within half a day. Soon, the administrative system across Sumrhall resud functioning at full efficiency.
At that mont, the great lords of Westeros ca to a sobering realization—the political reforms Lynd had implented in his territory were incredibly effective. Many found themselves eager to adopt similar asures in their own domains.
However, they quickly discovered that such reforms were impossible to implent in their own lands. The nobility in their territories functioned like an intricate web, binding the entire power structure together. Any significant change would send shockwaves through this network, potentially backfiring on the rulers themselves.
This was the fundantal difference. Lynd, a newly risen great lord who had built his domain from the ground up, had the freedom to shape his governance as he pleased. But the noble houses of Westeros, with their centuries-old legacies, were shackled by their own deeply entrenched traditions and blood ties.
...
Despite all this, what truly commanded the attention of the great lords was not just the fact that Lynd was still alive, but that he had tad a dragon.
For the first ti in over a century—since the death of House Targaryen’s last dragon—soone had once again subdued one of these legendary creatures. Though it was a sea dragon rather than a true dragon of Valyria, it was still a dragon.
Rumors about Lynd’s true origins began to resurface across the Seven Kingdoms. The tale of the Sumrhall ghost gifting him a dragon egg was once again a topic of discussion. Many believed that Lynd was no re hunter’s son, but rather the descendant of a Targaryen bastard.
This, they argued, explained why he, despite lacking the traditional silver hair and purple eyes of the Targaryen bloodline, was still able to ta a dragon.
After all, House Targaryen had, in the past, intermarried with the great noble houses of Westeros. The blood of dragons ran through the veins of many prominent families—including the Baratheons, Starks, and Lannisters. Even Robert Baratheon, who loathed the Targaryens, could not deny that his lineage carried traces of their blood.
Thus, even if Lynd did not outwardly resemble a Targaryen, it was still possible that he bore their blood.
...
Still, speculation could not compare to solid proof. As of now, the only confirmation of Lynd taming a sea dragon ca from a single letter sent by one of his subordinates. No one had yet seen the creature with their own eyes.
Naturally, there were skeptics. So suspected that Nyria had orchestrated the entire announcent to mislead the world—crafting an illusion that Lynd was alive while using the mont to purge internal threats. If true, it would an she was ensuring political stability in Sumrhall before the inevitable news of Lynd’s death could spread.
Regardless of the various theories circulating in the Seven Kingdoms, all eyes ultimately turned toward Miracle Harbor.
If Lynd had truly tad the sea dragon, he would return there.
And if he had failed—or perished—the truth would surface there as well.
Thus, noble houses across Westeros mobilized their spies and informants in Miracle Harbor. Every day, agents watched the docks, waiting for any sign of Lynd’s return. So even disguised themselves as fishern, patrolling the waters beyond the harbor, determined to be the first to confirm whether the legendary Chosen One had truly returned.
While the winds raged in Miracle Harbor, Lynd's fleet remained at sea, slowly making its way toward their destination.
What should have been a three-day voyage had stretched into six, bringing them only as far as the waters near the Bone Cape. Under normal circumstances, it would take just half a day to reach Miracle Harbor, but given the current situation, Baelor estimated it would take at least another full day.
It wasn’t that Baelor Blacktyde was intentionally delaying; rather, he and his fleet had no choice. They couldn’t pick up speed—not even by rowing, let alone unfurling the sails.
A powerful storm had materialized around them, its ferocity capable of capsizing any ship that dared intrude. It showed no sign of dispersing and moved at an eerily slow pace, always encircling them. Baelor’s fleet had no choice but to move with the storm, unable to risk straying beyond its reach.
However, as they neared the offshore waters of the Bone Cape and approached the coastline of Red Watch, things began to change.
Whether it was due to the storm itself or the mountainous terrain along the coast acting as a natural barrier, the sky seed to clear slightly. The dense clouds thinned, lightning strikes beca less frequent, and the raging winds gradually lost their intensity. The most obvious sign of change was that the sea, once violent with crashing waves, had cald considerably.
As night fell, the oil lamp in the captain's cabin of the Nightwalker was suddenly lit.
Ever since Lynd had entered the captain's cabin and ordered Baelor to stand guard outside, the lamp had remained unlit. No one knew what he had been doing inside. Now that the lamp was burning, it seed to be a signal of so kind.
Almost imdiately after the lamp was lit, the dark clouds in the sky completely dispersed, the storm vanished, and the sea returned to its usual calm.
Baelor stood in stunned silence for a long while, watching the dramatic shift in weather, before finally knocking on the captain’s door. “My lord, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Lynd responded quickly. Then he asked, “Where are we now?”
“We're in the waters near the Bone Cape. If all goes well, we should reach Miracle Harbor by midday tomorrow,” Baelor replied.
“We'll rest here for the night and continue in the morning,” Lynd ordered.
The past few days of navigating through the storm had left everyone utterly exhausted, both physically and ntally. A break was much needed. Hearing Lynd’s command, Baelor imdiately agreed. “Yes, my lord.”
With that, he went off to arrange for the crews to rest, set up watches, and handle other necessary duties.
Inside the cabin, Lynd had already stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes. He grabbed the pitcher from the table, not bothering to check whether it held water or wine, and took several deep gulps to quench his thirst.
The third and final character template of his cheat had now fully integrated into his body. Unlike the previous two templates, which primarily involved mory fusion, this one had rged both his mories and his physical form. Over the past few days, he had undergone yet another Dragon Communion Ritual—this ti, an imnsely enhanced version.
The reason for this was simple: the template he had fused with was no ordinary one. In fact, calling it a “character template” was inaccurate; a more fitting term would be “deity template.” The entity he had rged with was a god—an important figure from a past-life ga: the Firstborn of the Sun, the Naless King, the Dragon-Slaying War God.
Perhaps because of this divine nature, the fusion process had not only granted Lynd the god’s mories but had also altered his body under the cheat’s influence, adapting it to withstand the side effects of divine knowledge. At the sa ti, it had laid the groundwork for him to wield the abilities and skills of the Naless King in the future.
Naturally, his physical condition had changed significantly, but the most striking transformation was in the Dragon Rune embedded in his heart. It had evolved—no longer a simple Dragon Rune, but sothing infused with mysterious symbols of the Naless King, a fusion of ancient power.
Lynd wasn’t yet certain what the Naless King Rune was capable of, but one thing was clear: from the mont he woke, he could tell that its ability to absorb ambient magical energy had increased dramatically. It was now far faster than the original Dragon Rune—almost on par with the absorption rate of the Dragon Rune etched into the Banished Knight’s greatsword.
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