His mouth was still open, his eye sockets were sunken, his cheekbones were prominent, and his whole body was as stiff as a piece of dried wood.
King Ghidorah's three heads came over at the same time, six golden eyes staring at the mummy curiously.
The head in the middle sniffed and let out a low, confused grunt - it smelled the aqua-blue light breath on the bone knife in the air, but it couldn't tell what it was. It only knew that the breath had completely disappeared now, as if it had never existed.
The two heads on the left and right are also sniffing and making grunting sounds. The three heads are gathered together, as if they are holding a small academic seminar, and the topic of discussion is "What is going on with that knife?"
Dawg Russ stood aside, his mouth half open, unable to say a word.
He looked at the pile of bone knife fragments scattered on the sand, then at the mummy, and finally at Redd's face that was so calm that it was almost heartless.
His brain was racing - disposable weapon? Why did this knife suck Daemon dry?
What is that aqua-blue light? Is there something wrong with the knife to begin with, or is there something wrong with Daemon's body, or is there some kind of hidden mechanism that was triggered during His Highness' use?
He thought for a long time, but didn't get any answer. He only knew one thing - on this beach, on this blood-stained coast, at the foot of this half-destroyed city, everything was operating in a way that he couldn't understand and beyond his cognitive scope. He only needed to accept it, not understand it.
Redd bent down, picked up a fragment of the bone knife from the beach, and held it up to his eyes to look at it. The fragment was only the size of a fingernail, with jagged edges, grayish-white color, and the surface was covered with fine cracks, like a riverbed that had been dry for too long.
He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and crushed it hard. The fragments turned into a small amount of white powder between his fingers, which was blown away by the sea breeze and disappeared in the morning light.
"It's a one-time thing." He said it again, and this time there was no aggrieved tone in his tone, leaving only a plain, resigned statement, "It's really a one-time thing."
He dusted off the remaining powder in his hands, stood up, and patted the sand and bone powder on his pants.
He moved his eyes away from the pile of debris and swept over the charred sand pit - the place where Tormund disappeared, the two dragon corpses - Bloodworm and Raging Waves, the blood-stained beach and sea water, and the Lys civilians who were still shivering in the ruins in the distance.
Finally, his eyes fell on the mummy of Daemon.
That shriveled, twisted body that had been drained of all moisture looked like a mummy that had been forgotten for thousands of years in the morning light, and was incompatible with this living, breathing, and flowing world.
Its mouth is open, as if it is shouting silently, as if it is asking the world why it treats it like this.
But no one can hear its voice, because its tongue is no longer there, its lips are cut, and it cannot utter any syllables that humans can understand.
Redd looked at the face that was always frozen in pain and fear and was silent for a moment.
Then he turned around and walked in the direction of Dawg ras.
King Ghidorah followed him, with three heads raised high and six golden eyes overlooking the beach that had been completely conquered.
"Dawg ras." Redd's voice came from the front, calm, calm, and without any emotion.
"The end is here!" Dawg Lass straightened his back subconsciously, even though the left half of his body was still bleeding, his hair and eyebrows were burnt, and his whole body was as smoked as a lump of coal.
"Clean it up." Redd said without looking back, "Count up the people who are still alive, repair the ships that can be repaired, and tear down the ones that can't be repaired and use them as planks. We will rest here for three days, and then set off back."
Dawg Russ nodded vigorously, and squeezed out a voice from his hoarse throat. "Yes!"
Redd walked a few steps, stopped again, turned his head sideways, and added in a nonchalant tone, "By the way, put away the fragments of that knife."
Find a box to put it in and take it back to study. I would like to see what kind of bones these are."
Dawg The corner of Lars's mouth twitched, but he still nodded vigorously.
Redd turned around and continued walking forward. King Ghidorah's three heads simultaneously let out a low, contented neigh behind him. The sound echoed on the empty beach and spread far and wide.
The sea breeze blows from the direction of the port, carrying the heat of fire and the smell of gunpowder smoke, making the hem of Redd's leather armor rustle. The morning light pours down from the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the entire beach.
In the distance, under the sea, those amber, narrow eyes were watching all this quietly in the abyss.
Watching the three giant dragons leave, watching the man in tattered leather armor walk away, and watching the corpses of the two giant dragons slowly cooling in the tide.
Then, those eyes sank into deeper darkness.
The waves hit the beach, one after another, like an ancient elegy without lyrics, slowly ringing in Dawn, and then slowly dissipating.
The news of the destruction of the Lys city-state was like a bloody storm, sweeping across the surface of the Midsummer Sea and blowing throughout the entire Essos west coast.
When the news reached Tyrosh, the city-state famous for its roses and perfume was holding its annual Flower Festival.
The streets are full of arches woven with flowers, the air is filled with the fragrance of roses and jasmine, nobles in rich costumes dance in the square, and vendors sell spices and silks from the Eastern continent.
The messenger rushed into the city on a fast horse from the direction of the port. The sound of the horse's hooves was as fast as a war drum. His horse was covered in sweat and foaming at the mouth. It was obvious that he had traveled a long way.
The messenger rolled off his horse and stumbled into the governor's palace. Amid the obstruction of the guards, he shouted in a voice that almost broke his voice, "Lys is gone! All gone!"
Daemon is dead! Tormund is dead too!
That dragon - that three-headed dragon - burned the whole harbor to ashes!"
The Flower Festival came to an abrupt end at that moment. The musicians stopped playing, the dancers froze in place, the wine glasses held by the nobles stopped in mid-air, and rose petals fell from the arches, rolling in the wind on the deserted streets.
When the news reached Myr, a grand auction was being held in that city-state famous for its glass and craftsmen.
Wealthy businessmen from all over the world gathered in the huge auction hall. Bidding was heard one after another. Each exquisite Myr glass product was auctioned for a staggeringly high price.