Meanwhile, in the now-calm waters of Oldtown Bay, several hundred Ironborn had escaped alive from their capsized longships.
Most of them had actually suffered fatal injuries earlier. Without the help of that golden energy, they would surely have been dead at the bottom of the sea by now.
Of course, their exceptional swimming skills had also played a part. Otherwise, even if they had survived their injuries, they would have struggled to escape the sea alive.
Everything was fate, beyond anyone's control!
From Oldtown's perspective, none of these people were good men. But before life and death, good and evil meant nothing. Survival depended entirely on luck and one's own abilities.
During the ugly monster's rampage, anyone who had not died outright had managed to survive once the golden energy spread.
Still, the beast had wreaked such havoc in the bay that the vast majority of the Ironborn had died on the spot. Only a little over two hundred had survived, and most of them were nobles from the Kraken.
The Iron Islands had sent a hundred longships, two or three thousand warriors, and two thousand rowing slaves on this expedition-nearly half their total strength.
Now all of it had been lost here, dealing them a devastating blow. They would probably struggle to recover for decades to come.
Oldtown had fared somewhat better. Apart from the residents, Brothers, and Maesters swallowed by the ugly monster, many members of the Garrison who had been injured but not killed in the wildfire explosions and the sea monster's attacks had recovered-a full two or three hundred men.
Of course, the dead were also numerous. Oldtown's guards alone had lost no fewer than three hundred men. Including the civilians and those caught in the affected sections of the underground chambers, Oldtown had lost more