"Roar!"
The Black Dragon and White Dragon in the sky roared together, and then two brilliant fireballs exploded near Frost-Ice the Mountains of the Moon, melting the wights in the middle of the area directly into the rolling dragonfire.
Everyone saw it. It was a visual spectacle beyond words.
Clad in golden armor, Gendry swung the Steel-Headed Leather Whip. Then the black-and-red fireball Balerion spat out lit up a vast stretch of land around them. Amid the cold, the magic dragon's entire body still gleamed with heat, like a great slab of black jade.
The fireball was so bright that it seemed they had truly waited long enough for the sun, the sign that the long winter had passed.
Everyone heard the thunderous roar of the exploding fireball, the wild surge of flames compressed to their limit.
Randyll Tarly was also a man who had lived on a knife's edge, yet even he needed a while to recover from the dizziness.
Garlan swung the obsidian spear in his hand, driving it straight into a wight's heart, then grabbed a torch and thrust it over. The wight began to bathe in flames.
The commander from the Westerlands immediately called for the reserves and ordered the crossbowmen to fire as quickly as they could.
The eternally gloomy sky was finally lit by another color. The armor Gendry wore glittered like shimmering streams of gold.
Originally, deploying the Three Magic Dragons together would have been best, but circumstances had changed, leaving two magic dragons to bombard together.
It was like a primary engine and an auxiliary engine, but thanks to the Pyromancer's power, coupled with the fact that these three dragons had lived together since childhood, their combined skill activated without the slightest delay.
"Long live Storm!"
"Long live His Majesty Gendry!"
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