True Dragon Reborn!

The sun sank in the west.

The fiery clouds spread across the vast sky like splashed ink.

Meereen, the Great Arena.

"Stop them! Don't let them open the gates!"

"Archers, ready! Don't let a single one get away."

"..."

Shouts of anger and alarm rang throughout the arena.

The iron gates had somehow opened. The slaves were making an organized escape, killing many of the guards along the way.

In barely half an hour, they had nearly broken out.

Boom! Boom!

The braziers illuminating the arena were smashed one after another. Burning coals blocked the underground passage and set the nearby wooden buildings alight.

"The gates are right there!"

Groups of strong young slaves, wild with excitement, charged through the guards with weapons in hand, leaving fresh corpses strewn behind them.

Aemon was caught in the middle of the crowd, swept along with it.

Every now and then, he glanced back. He could still see a pile of ashes on the arena floor that no one had yet cleared away.

The gallows had burned through, and smoldering wood chips still glimmered with sparks.

Rumble!

The Great Arena's gates burst open, and sunlight streamed in at the final moment.

The slaves rushed out of the hell that had held them captive, and saw with their own eyes the last rays of the setting sun.

Then the sun went down.

"Don't be afraid! Let's split up and run!"

Night fell, and the slaves scattered beneath the buildings' shadows.

"After them! Hurry!"

The Great Master who oversaw the Great Arena was so furious that he drew his whip and lashed his subordinates to vent his rage.

The slave soldiers hesitated, then gritted their teeth and pursued the fleeing slaves, who had surged out all at once.

Yet this slave uprising was strange.

Unlike