Redd retreated further away.
His bare feet stepped on the sand soaked by the sea water, and he retreated step by step until he reached the ruins of a house destroyed by flames.
He leaned against a half-collapsed stone pillar, folded his arms and looked calmly at the battle ahead.
His body is very strong. He is so strong that he was unscathed even after being blown up by Wildfire. He is so strong that even his clothes and hair were burned in the sea of fire but his skin did not turn red. His strength is comparable to that of a humanoid beast, and his speed is beyond the reach of even the most agile assassins.
But no matter how strong his body is, he can't withstand the frontal trampling of an adult dragon.
He may not be trampled to death - he has confidence in the strength of his body, but there is a huge gap between "maybe not dead" and "definitely not dead", and he has no intention of filling that gap with himself.
What's more, being stepped on by a giant dragon, even if you don't die, is extremely humiliating.
He leaned against the stone pillar and watched three giant dragons fighting on the beach.
Golden, dark red, and blue-green figures were entangled together. The collision of claws and claws made a metallic clanging sound. The bite of teeth made a harsh friction sound. The collision of tails made a dull crashing sound.
Sand was flying under their feet, sea water was surging around them, and golden lightning flashed occasionally in the sky - that was Gravity Beams released by King Ghidorah in a certain gap. Although it could not be released with full force because the distance was too close and the angle was too tricky, even this weakened version of the light was enough to leave burning traces on the raging waves and Bloodworm's body.
Redd's mouth corners rose slightly.
There was no suspense in this battle from the beginning.
Three giant dragons tangled and rolled on the beach, their dark red and blue-green scales mingling in the morning light. Every impact made the ground tremble, and every bite brought up a blood mist.
The waves were splashed everywhere by their bodies, the sand pit continued to expand during their struggle, and golden lightning occasionally flashed across the sky - that was when King Ghidorah released Gravity Beams in a certain gap. Although it failed to hit, it was enough to leave a series of black burn marks on the bodies of the other two dragons.
The scene was lively enough that no one within a few miles would pay attention elsewhere.
Redd straightened up from the stone pillar, stepped on the cold gravel with his bare feet, and looked around.
His eyes fell on a body lying on the edge of the ruins not far away.
The man was wearing the standard leather armor of the Lys defenders. Although the armor was scorched black by the fire, it was still intact - at least it was much stronger than the "air suit" he was wearing now.
The corpse was lying face down, with a shocking wound on the back of the head. It must have been hit by the debris thrown up by the explosion. He died quickly and did not suffer much.
Redd walked over, squatted down, and peeled off the leather armor from the corpse in a few strokes.
Although the lined linen shirt was soaked with blood and sweat, he didn't care about that much at the moment.
He put the leather armor on his body, fastened the straps casually, and then took off the other party's pants and boots - the size was a little small, but they were barely wearable.
Finally, he glanced at the body that had been stripped down to its underwear, and said expressionlessly, "Thank you."
He wasn't talking to the deceased, it was just a habitual talk to himself that he didn't even care about.
After getting dressed, he looked down at his outfit and twitched the corner of his mouth slightly.
There was a large scorch mark on the chest of the leather armor, and one of the straps on the left shoulder was broken, so he retied it with a piece of rope he picked up. There were two holes in the knees of the pants, revealing the intact skin underneath. There was nothing wrong with the boots, but they squeezed the feet and made them a little worn when walking.
The whole person looks like a defeated soldier who has just crawled back from the battlefield. There is no trace of Dragon King.
Redd frowned and silently made a note in his mind - after going back, he must get himself a set of clothes that are not afraid of flames.
It is best to be made of dragon scales, which is lightweight, close-fitting, invulnerable, indestructible by fire and impervious to water.
King Ghidorah has to change its scales several times every year. Throw away the old scales that have fallen off. Why not use them to make clothes for yourself?
No, make one. Plus a cloak and a hood, the kind that can cover half of your face.
He was thinking about the design of this outfit in his mind, and at the same time, he went through Dawg's list of recommended tailors in his mind.
Then he remembered something else.
Dark Sister.
The Valyrian steel sword he took from Daemon had a long and narrow blade, a sharp edge, and just the right weight in his hand. It was the most comfortable sword he had ever used.
But it was lost in the previous Wildfire explosion, and together with his cloak, coat, pants, boots - everything he wore, they were engulfed in flames.
The cloak was burned, the coat was burned, the pants were burned, and the boots were burned. Dark Sister was blown away to no one knows where.
No weapons. Hands empty.
Redd looked down at his hand, his fingers opened and closed, and the lead bullet he picked up from the leader in black robes fell out of his palm at some point.
He now had nothing but a pair of tattered leather armor ripped from a dead man's body and a pair of scuffed boots.
And in the ruins behind him, there was a sound of very light footsteps approaching slowly.
It was not the neat and powerful steps of patrolling soldiers, nor the panicked and hasty steps of civilians fleeing, but a sound that was deliberately lowered and every step was carefully considered.
The visitor was very nervous and afraid of being discovered.
But what made Redd notice him was not the footsteps themselves - those footsteps were so light that it was difficult for ordinary people to hear them even in silence. What made him notice was another thing.
Heartbeat.
The sound of the beating heart was captured by Redd's ears from the moment the footsteps sounded.
The sound was rapid, chaotic, with an irrepressible beating, as if someone was beating a drum in his ear. It was not fear, but nervousness.
It is a unique physiological reaction of a hunter after the adrenaline surges when approaching prey.
Redd didn't look back. He stood there, his eyes sweeping over the sand at his feet and the corpses and weapons scattered in the ruins.
This used to be a port and one of the most fiercely fought places. After the sea receded, abandoned weapons - Longsword, daggers, battle axes, spears, shields, etc. were everywhere on the beach and pier.
If you are not picky, you can easily pick up a still usable iron sword.
His hand dropped to his side and he casually walked towards the nearest Longsword.
The sword was half buried in the sand. The sword was stained with blood and gravel. The rope on the guard had come loose, and there was a scorch mark from the fire on the hilt.