Dragonflame

January 23, the ninth day of the tour around Casterly Rock.

Early that morning, the procession received a Message Raven from the king, ordering the Queen to stop touring with her children and return to King's Landing as soon as possible.

These past few days, the Lannister forces in King's Landing had also been constantly sending news here.

The king had shown no unusual reaction and had decided to head north to Winterfell, inviting Duke Eddard Stark of the North to succeed as Hand of the King.

The Lannisters' secret had indeed been preserved.

Thus, Lord Tywin continued westward, while Cersei and Jaime led a small portion of the forces toward King's Landing.

Joffrey temporarily had no time to concern himself with that.

He had already accumulated seven units of Rune Energy and was urgently trying to solve his final doubt.

What exactly was the greatsword's special property?

He had already formed some guesses over the past few days, but he had delayed until now because he was unwilling to take irreversible, destructive measures.

Now that he had sufficient Rune Energy, things were much easier.

He could directly inscribe the greatsword with a Recovery Rune using Rune Energy. That would both ensure the greatsword was not completely destroyed and allow him to observe the rune's external manifestation on the sword for comparison—a solution that achieved two goals at once.

Just as he was about to act, a maid from beside the Queen came over. "Your Highness, the Queen wishes to see you."

Joffrey suddenly had an ominous feeling.

Perhaps to ensure privacy, the luxurious and spacious Wheel Palace did not have a single window. Even in broad daylight, hundreds of incense candles were lit.

When Joffrey boarded the Wheel Palace, he looked up and saw Queen Cersei's worried, hesitant face illuminated by the red candlelight.

Looking inside the Wheel Palace, he saw that his younger siblings were absent, and there were no servants attending them either.

He more or less understood.

Dear Grandfather told Mother everything about me?

Even so, there was nothing to worry about. This world had no concept of soul possession; all his changes were gifts from the Gods.

"Mother, I'm busy right now. Why did you call me over?" Joffrey sat beside his mother and complained affectionately.

Cersei's feelings were complicated.

"Little Joff," she finally asked, "you knew Jon Arryn would come to harm, and you also knew about Jaime and me...?"

Joffrey lowered his gaze slightly, doing his best to ease Cersei's unease and embarrassment.

"Not that early. Only before the tournament."

An awkward silence followed.

In this world, Joffrey could be said to understand them better than anyone except Cersei and Jaime themselves.

Cersei was proud and selfish, regarding herself as a female version of Lord Tywin, yet she was so emotional that she could not control her feelings and desires.

Jaime dreamed of becoming a true knight, but his affair with his sister, the Mad King's atrocities, and everything else he had experienced and witnessed constantly tormented his heart. The "Kingslayer" was destined to bear darkness as he moved forward.

But Joffrey did not care about any of that.

Family, friends, enemies—how simple and clear. Why make things so complicated?

Although he could not truly acknowledge Cersei from the bottom of his heart as his real mother, the profound maternal love he felt was genuine.

The judgments of the world were ultimately nothing more than passing clouds.

I am the center of the world.

He took his mother's cold little hand and calmly looked into those emerald eyes shimmering with tears.

"What does it matter? Hasn't House Targaryen been like this for hundreds of years? No matter what, as long as you're still my mother, that's enough."

Joffrey smiled with complete sincerity.

"I will always stand by your side, Mother."

Cersei could no longer suppress her excitement and tightly embraced her gentle, considerate son.

Heaven knew how aggrieved and resentful she was over this marriage alliance.

To Cersei, the young, brave, and handsome Robert had died on the day of their wedding. In his place stood a fat king who spent all day drinking and carousing and had a violent temper. It was utterly revolting.

She poured out the bitterness in her heart to her obedient son.

Joffrey quietly played the role of listener, with no intention of offering any opinions.

He did not expect to easily change Cersei's personality or behavior. As long as he maintained their current relationship as mother and son and made sure she did not cause trouble on crucial matters, that would be enough.

Even the Joffrey of the original story had been able to do whatever he pleased while Cersei served as regent. He believed he would do even better.

Before long, evening arrived.

Joffrey finally returned to his own carriage.

Thinking about what he had gone through that afternoon, he still felt shaken. To think a woman could repeat the same meaning over and over for so long using different words—women were terrifying.

Fortunately, he had finally survived it.

He sat on the edge of the bed and laid the greatsword across his thighs. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind of distracting thoughts.

The experiment continued.

After using it for so many days, he had become quite proficient in the process of meditation and channeling Rune Energy. It took only a dozen or so breaths to inscribe a Recovery Rune onto the greatsword.

After repeating the process twice more, he opened his eyes and immediately made a crucial discovery.

He could only vaguely sense the existence of these newly created Recovery Runes, yet he could not see the White Light that should have appeared!

In other words, the greatsword itself could conceal the light emitted by magical energy.

Either there was something wrong with its material,

or it possessed some rune or other ability with an equivalent effect that could conceal magical traces.

He drew Light of Peace, its magical energy abundant.

No matter which guess was correct—or whether both were wrong—the greatsword already had at least three Recovery Runes, so he could experiment more boldly.

Light of Peace struck downward. It should have cleaved the greatsword in two, but it suddenly lodged about an inch into the blade.

Joffrey clearly felt that the material beneath it was even harder.

He simply cut a ring around the outside of the greatsword. To his surprise, the center was a neatly shaped section of black metal.

The answer seemed clear now.

A piece of Valyrian Steel that was no longer precious, and a useless material with a special purpose.

Yet his eyes were filled with excitement.

The black metal emitted White Light, Blacklight, and red light. Two new runes!

After clearing everything away, a finely crafted one-handed sword returned to the world. Its appearance resembled Valyrian Steel, but in reality, it was vastly different.

He chopped more than a dozen nearby trees into charcoal. At last, the magical energy in the blade was exhausted, revealing unfamiliar Patterns.

Fire magic?

This is what genuine Valyrian Steel is supposed to do. Could it be that the Valyrians sold only defective goods to outsiders while keeping the good stuff for themselves?

Joffrey immediately began meditating on the Patterns on the one-handed sword.

After nearly exhausting all the Rune Energy he had accumulated, he finally obtained his first rune with an offensive attribute—Fire Rune.

It was marvelous.

He needed almost no practice. It was as though a scorching force continuously surged from his heart, moving according to his will and obediently appearing wherever he wanted it to—the mouth, fingertips, soles of his feet, and the blade.

He felt the flow of fire.

The heat of the flames only harmed the things he wanted to destroy. Even his clothes remained unscathed. It was even more powerful than The Unburnt.

He had never felt so powerful.

The Recovery Rune was the starting point of his magical path, with excellent auxiliary effects;

The Mirror Image Rune was the foundation stone of the Magic Web, with broad prospects, immense potential, and an exceptionally high ceiling;

Yet in the end, the simple and direct power of the Fire Rune was still more stunning.

The power of fire—the power that life instinctively feared.

How could life make fire submit?

At this moment, he had surpassed the limits of carbon-based life.

His burning gaze fell upon the nameless one-handed sword. I'll call you "Dragonflame." May you and I soar through the heavens like dragons and pour down flames enough to burn the world.