Dragonflame

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

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

Over the past few days, the Lannister forces in King's Landing had also kept sending reports here.

The king showed no unusual reaction and decided to head north to Winterfell, inviting Lord Eddard Stark of The North to succeed Jon Arryn as Hand of the King.

The Lannister secret had indeed been preserved.

So Lord Tywin continued westward, while Cersei and Jaime took a small portion of the escort and turned toward King's Landing.

Joffrey had no time to worry about any of that.

He had accumulated seven units of Rune Energy and was eager to unravel his final doubt.

What exactly was the greatsword's special perception?

He had long had his suspicions, but he had delayed until now because he had been unwilling to take destructive measures that could not be undone.

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

He could directly imprint a Recovery Rune onto the greatsword with Rune Energy. That would not only ensure the sword was not completely destroyed, but also let him observe how the Rune manifested on it for comparison. Killing two birds with one stone.

Just as he was about to act, one of the Queen's maids approached him. "Your Highness, the Queen wishes to see you."

Joffrey suddenly had a bad feeling.

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

Joffrey climbed into the Wheel Palace and immediately saw Queen Cersei's worried, hesitant face beneath the red candlelight.

Looking around the interior, his younger siblings were absent, as were any servants.

He roughly understood.

Dear Grandfather told Mother everything about me?

Even so, there was nothing to worry about. This world had no concept of possession. Every change in him was simply a blessing from the Gods.

"Mother, I was busy. 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 meet with an accident, and you also knew about Jaime and me...?"

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

"Not that early. Only before the tourney."

An awkward silence followed.

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

Cersei was proud and selfish. She saw herself as a female version of Lord Tywin, yet she was also too emotional to control her feelings and desires.

Jaime dreamed of becoming a true knight, but his affair with his sister, the Mad King's atrocities, and all his experiences and observations constantly tortured his heart. The Kingslayer was destined to walk forward burdened by darkness.

But Joffrey did not care about any of it.

Family, friends, enemies. It was all so simple and clear. Why make it so complicated?

To him, though he could not truly accept Cersei as his real mother from the bottom of his heart, the weight of her maternal love was something he genuinely felt.

The judgments of others were ultimately no more than passing clouds.

I am the center of the world.

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

"What does it matter? Haven't the Targaryens been doing this for centuries? No matter what, as long as you're still my mother, that's enough."

Joffrey's smile was utterly sincere.

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

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

Gods knew how aggrieved and resentful she felt about this political marriage.

To Cersei, the young, brave, handsome Robert had died on their wedding day. In his place stood a fat king who drank and reveled all day, with a violent temper—utterly revolting.

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

Joffrey quietly played the role of listener and had no intention of voicing any opinion.

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

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

In the blink of an eye, evening arrived.

Joffrey finally returned to his own carriage.

Thinking of everything he had gone through over the past half day, he still felt lingering fear. She could repeat the same meaning in different words for so long. Women were terrifying.

Thankfully, he had finally endured it.

He sat by the bed and laid the greatsword flat across his thighs. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind of distractions.

The experiment continued.

After using it for the past few days, he had become quite proficient in meditation and controlling Rune Energy. In just over a dozen breaths, he had imprinted a Recovery Rune onto the greatsword.

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

For these newly formed Recovery Runes, he could only vaguely sense their existence, yet he could not see the White Light that should have appeared!

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

Either there was something wrong with its material;

or it possessed some Rune capable of concealing magical auras, or another ability with the same effect.

He drew Light of Peace, which was brimming with magic energy.

No matter which guess was correct—or whether neither was—the greatsword now bore at least three Recovery Runes. He could be bolder with his experiments.

Light of Peace slashed downward. It should have cut through the greatsword in one stroke, but it suddenly lodged about an inch deep into the blade.

Joffrey could clearly feel a harder material beneath.

He simply cut away a ring around the outer edge of the greatsword. At its center was a neatly shaped piece of black metal.

The answer seemed obvious.

One piece of no-longer-precious Valyrian Steel, and one obscure material with a special use.

Yet his eyes were filled with excitement.

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

After cleaning it up, an exquisite one-handed sword returned to this world. Its appearance resembled Valyrian Steel, but it was fundamentally different.

He chopped more than a dozen nearby trees into charcoal, and the magic energy in the blade was finally exhausted, revealing an unfamiliar Pattern.

Fire magic?

This was the effect genuine Valyrian Steel ought to have. Could it be that the Valyrians sold only inferior goods to outsiders and kept the best things for themselves?

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

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

It was wondrous.

He barely needed any practice. It was as though a scorching power flowed endlessly from his heart, moving at his will and obediently appearing wherever he wanted: his mouth, fingertips, soles, or blade.

He felt the flow of fire.

The heat of the Flames would only harm what he wished to destroy. Even his clothes could remain unharmed. This was even more powerful than The Unburnt.

He had never felt so powerful.

The Recovery Rune had been the starting point of his path in magic, with excellent supportive effects;

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

but in the end, it was still the simple, direct power of the Fire Rune that was most breathtaking.

The power of fire, the power life instinctively feared.

How could life make fire submit?

At that moment, he 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 skies like dragons, raining down flames enough to burn the world to ashes.