Four years later.
113 AC.
Crownlands, Blackwater Bay.
"Screeech—"
A thunderous roar echoed for dozens of miles, and a massive shadow blanketed the calm sea.
A mighty dragon covered in bronze scales spread its wings through the sky, then sharply turned and plunged downward like a falling meteor.
"Dragonflame, Vermithor!"
A lean, handsome youth with shoulder-length silver-gold hair and bright purple eyes lay flat against the dragon's back, gripping the Dragon Saddle handle as he shouted.
Boom—
A fierce glint flashed through the Bronze Dragon's vertical pupils. It opened its jaws and unleashed a burst of Bronze Dragonflame, thick and molten like searing lava erupting from a volcano.
The lean youth tilted his head back to watch, a smile tugging at his lips.
He spread his arms and flew upward against the oncoming dragonfire.
King's Landing, Mud Gate.
Countless spectators clogged the city gates, witnessing the terrifying scene with their own eyes.
Everyone held their breath, their hearts in their throats.
"Screeech—"
In a flash, the Bronze Dragon stretched out its neck and beat its broad brown wings, swiftly veering aside.
The lean youth arched backward, the dragonfire brushing past the tip of his nose in an instant.
The next second.
Thick dragonfire, rolling like molten bronze, splashed into the sea, kicking up towering waves of heat and solidifying into patches of black metallic slag.
Then, the Bronze Dragon skimmed over the sea toward Mud Gate. Just before reaching shore, it raised its head and shot into the air, stirring gusts of scorching wind.
"Seven hells!!"
"..."
The spectators stared without blinking, their faces flushed with excitement as they clapped and cheered wildly.
Hearing the cheers, the lean youth smiled and glanced back.
"Screeech!"
A smaller golden dragon dove from the clouds, letting out a resounding roar in midair as