After fifteen agonizing days and nights, the Laughing Lion finally sailed into the Land of the Gods Forsaken.
The seawater boiled and churned ceaselessly, releasing a pungent, sour stench.
Dense, deathly white mist rose from the sea, coiling around the hull and blotting out the daylight.
The air was scorching and heavy. Every breath felt like swallowing hot gravel.
"The... Smoking Sea..."
One sailor's teeth chattered, his face drained of color.
Deep within the mist, indistinct shapes writhed against the pallid haze, resembling collapsed spires or the skeletons of enormous beasts.
Every so often, bloodcurdling shrieks rang out from the fog-shrouded "islands" around them, piercing their eardrums and shredding their nerves.
The guards' spear hands trembled, and the knuckles of those holding bows turned white.
Even scar-faced Lennard's eyes, usually so sinister and ruthless, betrayed a flicker of uncertainty for the first time.
A few days later, plague struck.
First, several sailors turned as pale as drowned men. Then their skin took on an unnatural shrimp-red hue, their lips swelled and turned purple, their eyes sank into their sockets, and blue-black veins bulged and twisted beneath their skin.
They burned with fever, vomited, and suffered relentless diarrhea. Their bodies gave off the sickly sweetness of smoldering flesh, and their despairing wails echoed through the lower hold.
"Throw them overboard!"
Gerion commanded the others without so much as looking at the victims' grotesque condition.
The sick were mercilessly hurled into the boiling, gray-yellow sea and instantly swallowed by its churning foam.
The number of people aboard dwindled sharply. Those who survived had nothing left in their eyes but numbness or the brink of madness.
Only Liu Qian silently counted the changing numbers on his panel:
[Mana: +10... +15... +25...]
Just as he had expected, mana suffused the Valyrian Ruins. Its concentration far exceeded that of the outside world, making this a natural breeding ground for magical creatures. The deeper they ventured into the Smoking Sea, the faster the numbers rose!
On the tenth day, the number settled at:
[Mana: 450/500]
On the morning of the eleventh day, the anchor finally sank into shallows studded with jagged black reefs.
Gerion narrowed his eyes at the hazy shore. His command shattered the last shred of hope among the crew. "Lower the boats. We're going ashore!"
Once his feet touched the slippery, scalding, gray-brown "beach," Lennard could no longer bear his fear.
From their very first day in the Smoking Sea, his heart had felt as though a great hand were squeezing it, suffocating him.
His life as a mercenary had tempered his will, yet it could not withstand what he had witnessed in barely half a month among the Valyrian Ruins.
The horrors here had driven him to the verge of fleeing.
He seized Gerion by the collar of his leather armor, his rose-red scar swelling and gleaming with rage. "You madman! Back in Volantis, you swore you were looking for a sword! You were so certain you'd succeed. And now? Look at this place! This is hell! Where are the treasures of Valyria?! All I see are horrific plagues that devour lives, and all I hear are monsters wailing in the shadows. Are you searching for treasure, or do you want us all to die with you?!"
Gerion coldly knocked his hand away and drew a parchment map with charred edges from inside his clothes. "Open your eyes and look, 'eagle' of House Maegor Ya."
He kicked away the loose dirt with the toe of his boot, exposing an enormous, smooth black paving stone beneath. Its joints were too tight to admit a blade.
"This is the Dragon Road. Only at its destination will you find the Valyrian steel you've been dreaming of."
Lennard Maegor Ya's breath caught. The map depicted all of Valyria. He would wager that this single scroll was worth a million gold coins.
Blood rushed to his head, and undisguised greed surfaced as he stared at the map he had coveted for so long. But remembering the dozens of guards accompanying this Lannister, he put those thoughts aside and examined it patiently.
The map showed that their party stood on the western shore of the island where Valyria lay. Beneath their feet was the white road paved with marble blocks. By following the Dragon Road east, they could reach the legendary city of Valyria.
The thought of Valyrian weapons and armor filling his treasury sent excitement surging through Lennard.
The humiliation of belonging to a lesser branch of his family, along with his greed for treasure, finally overcame his fear.
He spat, giving his tacit assent.
The Lannister gave the order, and the party advanced along the Dragon Road.
Paved with enormous square blocks, the "Dragon Road" still displayed its miraculous craftsmanship after four hundred years, mocking the crude civilizations that followed.
On either side, twisted dead trees stabbed at the gray sky. Fragments of gray-veined marble lay half-buried in the gray-brown scorched earth.
The air held nothing but sulfur and ash.
Liu Qian followed near the rear of the party, his cold eyes scanning their surroundings. Every step set his taut nerves on edge.
The faint bloodline within him granted him keen perception. He could sense things moving deep in the mist, their greedy gazes licking at the party's backs, though they had yet to attack.
Liu Qian did not dare relax. He remained utterly focused, certain that if some hideous monster leaped out of the Withered Woods, he would be the only one to retreat all the way to the rear and keep everyone else safely in front of him.
They had walked for less than half a day when Gerion and Lennard halted the party and announced that they would make camp there.
Sure enough, something went wrong.
While they were making camp, a Lhazareen slave disappeared into the mist at the edge of the Withered Woods. His companion wailed heartbroken pleas to Gerion in the Lhazareen tongue, begging him to search for the missing man, but Gerion coldly refused.
Then Lennard drew close to Gerion and spoke in a low, trembling voice. "Gerion, you've noticed, haven't you? They're following us. I mean the things in the Withered Woods. Those monsters have been shadowing us ever since we landed today!"
His years as a mercenary had given him sharp instincts. He had noticed the things following them through the Withered Woods long ago.
"That means there aren't enough of them, and they aren't strong enough. Otherwise, they would have attacked already."
Gerion spoke carelessly, his blue eyes gleaming in the dusk, his steady tone revealing boundless confidence.
Lennard's mouth stiffened. Inwardly, he cursed Gerion's arrogance, while his voice brimmed with sarcasm and resentment. "Sometimes I can't tell whether you're truly certain or just putting on a brave face. Those things are clearly sizing up their prey! Think about it. Are beasts this clever jackals or lions? Can you guarantee you'll escape their jaws?"
"Is that so, Lennard? A pack of hungry beasts has made
"House Maegor Ya's 'eagle' piss himself? I'm telling you, Valyria's treasures are worth this little risk. If they're jackals, I'll roast them for tonight's supper. If they're lions, I wouldn't mind bringing my brother some fine Valyrian pelts when I return to Casterly Rock.
"Are you really content to pick at carrion on the outskirts of the ruins? Don't you want to see Valyria? To discover what mighty force could have brought its once-glorious civilization to an end? Perhaps we'll find a few weapons that suit us. Perhaps we'll find dragon eggs and become the talk of every tavern from the Seven Kingdoms to the Free Cities."
Lennard was left speechless. He realized that his strengths lay on battlefields and in arenas, in swordsmanship and fighting, not in playing these word games with Gerion.
Yet, in truth, Gerion's words had awakened a powerful urge within him.
His greed tempted him to venture into Valyria and seize its treasures.
Gold, gems, weapons, even dragon eggs-he would take them all.
Night soon fell, forcing the party to halt its advance once more.
Gerion strictly forbade anyone from lighting a campfire, lest they attract more creatures with hostile intentions.
Yet darkness had barely fallen when an inhuman scream of agony erupted from one corner of the camp.
A sailor's entire body burned with eerie, bright yellow flames. His skin melted and dripped like wax, and his flesh sizzled in the fire.
He rolled through the camp like a human torch, bathing the surrounding tents and curtains in the light of a hellish tableau.
Gerion came running at the commotion. Before he had even learned the cause, he roared in fury, "Put it out! Hurry!"
But his roar was drowned out by the screams.
The sound was so agonizing that every soul present trembled.
No one dared approach the flames. One of Gerion's guards came over and explained what had happened.
An old sailor had suddenly burst into strange flames from within while they were making camp, leaving him in his present state.
The guard's horrifying account instantly darkened Gerion's expression.
Standing among the crowd, Liu Qian immediately realized that this resembled what he remembered happening to Princess Aerea.
The flames finally died, leaving only a curled, blackened corpse. Wisps of smoke carried the foul stench of flesh burned away.
In the dead silence came a hiss... hiss...
A teeth-grating scraping sounded from inside the charred corpse, followed by something that confirmed Liu Qian's suspicions.
Squelch!
A crimson maggot as thick as a baby's arm pushed aside the burned ribs and crawled out.
Embedded in its slime-covered body was a distorted, weeping human face.
Beneath that face, four tiny appendages frantically scraped at the corpse's bone fragments as it sucked greedily.
Then came a second, a third...
"Disgusting things!"
Lennard arrived, and the sight shattered his reason. He drew his sword and slashed furiously, as though taking revenge.
His blade flashed down, cleaving a Man-Faced Maggot in two. Scarlet pus and blood, thick as lava, sprayed out!
"Stay back! You fool! Stop!" Gerion's warning came a moment too late.
The weeping faces on several Man-Faced Maggots splashed by the bloody pus suddenly twisted into expressions of utter venom.
They reared up, their hissing shrieks rising into a piercing screech like a blade scraping glass.
The satisfaction of revenge had only just appeared on Lennard's face-
Whoosh!
Several streams of pale yellow, viscous fire shot from the maggots' mouths and splashed squarely across his astonished face.
"Aaargh-!!!"
His inhuman screams tore through the night sky.
Lennard became a second human torch, flailing wildly.
He clawed uselessly at his cheeks. In the yellow flames, his flesh rapidly charred and peeled away, exposing his stark white cheekbones.
Staggering, engulfed in flames, he reached out with blackened claws and lunged toward Gerion, the only man who remained calm, pleading through his ravaged throat.
His guards exchanged glances, wanting to save him but helpless to do so.
Gerion stepped back without expression, his blue eyes cold to the bone. "Loose!"
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh-!
The guards' arrows fell thick as locusts, pinning the remaining Man-Faced Maggots and Lennard's blackened, writhing remains to the scorched earth.
The maggot corpses twitched, their bloody pus seeping into the ground.
No one noticed the dozen or so faint crimson lights rising from their bodies. Like ghosts, they passed through the shaken crowd and suddenly vanished into Liu Qian's chest!
[Dragon spirit +140! Dragon bloodline purity: 0.06%! Maximum mana increased to 640! Current mana: 460/640!]
The cold notification exploded inside Liu Qian with a heat like molten lava. He forcibly swallowed the growl that nearly escaped him, digging his nails deeper into his palms.
Just then, another sudden turn of events unfolded.
At a cold glance from Gerion, Lennard's guards had their throats slit from behind by their former "companions."
Gerion's men dragged their bodies into the Withered Woods to be hastily burned and buried, leaving the scorched earth to greedily absorb their blood.
"With their master dead, they would inevitably try to escape. Killing them prevented them from stealing our ship."
Gerion offered the remaining sailors that brief explanation.
His cruel gaze swept over the slaves and sailors, all silent with terror. The warning needed no words.
Hidden among the others, Liu Qian remained immersed in the joy of gaining dragon spirit even as he inwardly cursed this Lannister in every way he could.
This Lannister had no moral limits whatsoever. Ruthless and merciless, he had learned Tywin's methods to perfection.
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