Is it to be cut off quickly and with a knife?
Or would he lose consciousness bit by bit in endless torture, and finally die silently at a moment when even he couldn't tell whether it was day or night?
Tormund's eyes moved away from Redd's face and fell on the bone knife.
The deep-sea treasure with aqua-blue light that once belonged to him and was given by the fish-man priest himself was currently held in Redd's hand, with the tip of the knife pressed against his throat.
He could feel the familiar chill on the blade, the energy wave that he had stroked, wiped, and talked to on countless nights.
The light was beating, breathing, and glowing brighter and more stable in its new owner's hands than in his.
It no longer belongs to him. Just like his fleet, his men, his dragons, his life - everything no longer belongs to him.
Tormund Close your eyes.
"In the sea." His voice was hoarse like sandpaper being rubbed, and every word was filled with a gurgling noise deep in his throat. "You throw a body into the sea, the fresher the better. They will smell the blood and find it on their own."
Redd narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is it that simple?"
Tormund's mouth twitched, not knowing whether he wanted to laugh or cry, "Didn't you ask me how to contact them? This is the contact method. They don't need horns, signals, or you standing on the shore and shouting."
He paused and let out a low, painful gasp from his throat, "Blood is their language."
Redd was silent for a moment, as if he was judging the authenticity of this information. The tip of his knife was still pressed against Tormund's Adam's apple, without withdrawing it or pressing down.
The aqua blue light danced on the blade, casting a swaying blue light and shadow like deep sea waves on Tormund's pale skin.
"You didn't lie to me?" Redd asked.
Tormund opened his eyes, and the face of Redd was reflected in the dark brown pupils, as well as the bone knife glowing with blue light.
The corners of his mouth curled up, revealing teeth stained red with blood and a smile that was uglier than crying.
"It's true." He said, with a kind of calmness in his voice after giving up completely, "But you won't get what you want."
Redd looked at him for a long time.
The sea breeze blew from the direction of the port, making the hem of his leather armor rustle.
King Ghidorah neighed lowly behind him, and the three heads turned in the direction of the sea at the same time, and six golden eyes scanned the horizon vigilantly.
In the distance, Dawg Russ was leading people to drag Daemon up from the beach and tie him up like a rice dumpling with chains. Daemon's curses came intermittently, drifting in the sea breeze, and the words were blurred.
Redd's fingers tightened on the handle of the bone knife for a moment, and then relaxed.
"You're right," he stood up, removed the bone knife from Tormund's Adam's apple, drew a semicircle in the air with the tip of the knife, and then lowered it, "I wouldn't know."
Tormund's Adam's apple rolled violently. He knew that Redd's words did not mean "I forgive you", nor did it mean "I believe you".
The meaning of that sentence is - I don't need to know. Because no matter what you tell is the truth or a lie, the outcome will not change at all.
Redd turned around and took two steps, then stopped, turned his head sideways, and said in a casual tone, as if he was saying that the weather was good today, "Since your knife is not bad, I will give you a good one."
Tormund Close your eyes.
He finally waited for these words.
It is not the result of begging for mercy, not the result of transaction, not the result of any exchange.
Just because his knife is not bad, just because he left at least one thing in front of this Dragon King that Dragon King is interested in.
This reason is so ridiculous that it makes people want to laugh, but Tormund cannot laugh.
He just felt that after going through all this, it was a luxury to get a happy ending.
"The fishmen will come to you." His voice was as soft as talking to himself, "Because your dragons killed too many of their people. They will come to you."
Not today, not tomorrow, but one day, when you least expect it - they will come."
Redd didn't look back. His pace didn't pause, and his rhythm didn't even change at all.
It's like you didn't hear this sentence, and it's like you heard it but didn't care at all.
Tormund's fingers were slightly bent on the beach. Those deformed, bloody fingers seemed to be trying to grab something at the last moment.
All he caught was a handful of wet and cold sand, which slipped through his fingers, like the moment when the last grain of sand in an hourglass fell to the other end.
In the distance, the waves hit the beach, washing the bodies of the two giant dragons and shaking them slightly.
The three heads of King Ghidorah turned to the sea at the same time, and the six golden eyes were like six bright lamps, shining with vigilance in the morning light.
He saw it.
In the bottomless sea water dyed purple-black by Dragon Blood, under the sea surface shimmering in the morning light, there is a pair of amber, narrow eyes with some ancient wisdom, looking up at the beach from the deep sea.
The moment those eyes saw King Ghidorah's six golden eyes turning to the sea, they quietly sank into deeper darkness.
Only the waves were left, lapping against the beach one after another, as if singing an ancient, lyricless elegy for all the dead on this battlefield.
Redd patted King Ghidorah's right wing. The movement was as light as patting an old dog on the back.
The golden scales were slightly hot under his palm, with the unique body temperature of the dragon, as hot as magma but not burning.
King Ghidorah's three heads turned towards him at the same time, their six golden eyes shining with light waiting for orders.
"Finish him." Redd's voice was not loud, and his tone was as calm as if he was saying "throw away the trash." "Let him die a little easier."
King Ghidorah The head in the middle turned back and his eyes fell on the tidal flat.
Tormund was still lying there, with his eyes closed, his lips slightly open, and his chest still rising and falling slightly.
He is already meat on the chopping board. Redd doesn't even have to ask, King Ghidorah knows what to do.
To kill a defenseless human being, it doesn't even need to accumulate energy, it doesn't need those three golden lightnings, and it doesn't need any gorgeous and powerful attacks.
It just slightly opened the mouth of the head in the middle, as if it was yawning, or exhaling randomly.
A ray of golden thunder and lightning erupted from its throat, as thin as a finger and as bright as the scorching sun, and landed accurately on Tormund.