The secret of the bloodline

Realizing that the Three-Eyed Crow had spoken the truth, Clay suddenly thought of a question. Since he had already obtained a Dragon Egg, why had this former Duke Bloodraven, a member of House Targaryen, not taken to the skies on a dragon himself?

His gaze fell on the unfortunate creature possessed by the Three-Eyed Crow. Thinking of the Three-Eyed Crow's current appearance, Clay instantly understood why.

It was really a matter of sequence. When he was still Duke Bloodraven, he had never encountered this Dragon Egg and possessed no magic himself. By the time he became a Greenseer and entered a symbiotic relationship with magic, he could no longer free himself from that state.

It truly was a kind of black comedy. Everything had happened at just the wrong time, delaying the dragons' rebirth by a full century.

High temperatures were no concern. With suitable environmental conditions, they were easy enough to achieve. At worst, he could light a fire. After all, Daenerys's practical experience had told Clay that no matter how high the temperature rose, a Dragon Egg would not become a roasted egg.

Magic was not too much of a problem either. If all else failed, he could make another trip to Winterfell, touching the Heart Tree with one hand while infusing the Dragon Egg with magic through the other. Tsk, he really was bold.

The biggest headache was that special blood. That part was distinctly fantastical. The Targaryens could ride dragons, the Velaryons of Driftmark could ride dragons, and even bastards with mixed bloodlines could ride dragons.

But what exactly was the principle behind it? Clay did not know. He was, however, quite certain that House Manderly, whose ancestry came from the Andals, had blood that could not resonate with dragons.

"Special blood-how am I supposed to fulfill that condition? I'm not a Targaryen, and none of my ancestors ever married into their family."

The Three-Eyed Crow shook his head and spoke calmly:

"No, your understanding of bloodlines is mistaken. Of course, that is not your fault. Had I not become my lord's agent, I would never have learned the secrets of these so-called bloodlines either."

Clay grew curious about the "my lord" he mentioned. Besides subtly influencing others and controlling creatures to reveal the entire map, a very important part of the Three-Eyed Crow's power was his authority to look back through history and preview the future.

However Clay looked at it, this Three-Eyed Crow and the master behind him had something of the air of chroniclers of the world's history.

Clay stood where he was, waiting for the Three-Eyed Crow to continue his explanation of bloodlines.

"My lord told me that the Old Valyria Empire had several dozen dragonlords, and all the descendants of their houses could ride dragons. But have you ever wondered why ordinary Valyrians had no dragons?"

"The truth is that, strictly speaking, the bloodlines of those nearly fifty dragonlord houses were high Valyrian bloodlines, distinct from those of ordinary Valyrians."

"Dragons are creatures formed from magic and fire. What is called a high Valyrian bloodline is actually an innate affinity for fire magic. Only those with such a bloodline can command dragons and communicate with these creations of fire magic."

"And you, agent of a foreign god-your body is an existence beyond my understanding. Not long ago, in this fortress's training yard, I observed you using fire magic. Within my sight, you have also used a defensive spell of unknown composition and a form of mental magic I have never seen."

"This overturned my understanding, because within my body of knowledge, different kinds of magic inherently conflict, just as ice and fire cannot coexist. Yet you are an exception..."

"Sometimes I even wonder whether the god behind you was once a powerful deity who perished in the age when magic flourished, and whether you are his agent in the mortal world following his revival."

It was a long speech, but Clay committed every word to memory, because this was knowledge concerning the world's lost history and its very origins.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed against his sword hilt as Clay did his utmost to digest the information. Soon, he had organized his thoughts.

"So, according to you, because I can use fire magic, I can also communicate with dragons. Does that mean I can ride dragons just like House Targaryen?"

"No, that is not the case."

The Three-Eyed Crow gave an answer that disappointed Clay.

"Constitution and ability are not the same thing. If merely being able to use fire magic allowed someone to ride dragons, that would underestimate the high Valyrian bloodline far too much. What matters is not ability, but bloodline."

"You can use fire magic, but you do not necessarily have an affinity for the magic itself. That touches upon knowledge recorded by my lord, and it is not what we are here to discuss today."

"I have brought you a solution to the bloodline problem."

"As for the true dragon bloodline, in this world there are only the two young dragons across the Narrow Sea, one hidden among wolves, and one keeping a lonely watch at the Wall. Unfortunately, you have no means of approaching them."

"But you are also fortunate, because I, too, once possessed a true dragon bloodline."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Hodor, who had been standing woodenly to one side like a statue, produced a transparent glass bottle from somewhere.

Through the flawless glass, Clay saw what it contained-a mass of dark red liquid.

"This is my blood. Once, it was filled with my lord's power, but now I have withdrawn that power."

"Now, mobilize your magic and feel the power contained within this blood, just as you drew magic from the Heart Tree..."

The Witcher System unfolded silently. In Clay's vision, what lay inside the little bottle before him was not blood at all, but a mass of burning flame.

He reached out and gripped the narrow bottle, activating the Magic Pool's absorption ability at full power!

The flame inside the bottle had been burning quietly. Now, it instantly became a stream of fire that shot into his body through his palm.

To ordinary sight, the dark red blood in the bottle suddenly boiled, bubbling like boiling water. Wisps of dark red vapor drifted out of the bottle's mouth and surged into Clay's hand.

Hot!

That was all Clay could feel at that moment.

He felt as though his right hand was about to turn to ash. Scorching heat permeated every inch of muscle tissue and bone in his palm and forearm, bringing with it agonizing pain.

It was an entirely different kind of pain from what he had experienced during the Witcher Mutations. Without a doubt, though, an ordinary person's nerves would have reached their limit long ago, causing them to pass out.

With each powerful beat of his heart, the sensation of having magma injected into his body gradually began to spread upward. Clay clenched his teeth tightly, and the Three-Eyed Crow's voice reached his ears.

"This is the gods' gift to the dragonlords. As an outsider, agent of a foreign god, if you wish to enjoy this power, you must suffer pain far beyond what the dragonlords' descendants endure. That is the price of power."

The magic within him surged wildly, desperately rushing toward the scorching intruder that had entered his blood vessels. But Clay had not replenished his Magic Pool during this time, and he did not know how long his remaining 120 points of magic would last.

His vision flickered slightly. The Three-Eyed Crow's voice sounded like a devout monk reciting scripture:

"Once this blood has circulated through your body and finally returned to your heart, it will settle there. You must mobilize your magic and try to assimilate it."

"This is the creation of an entirely new dragonlord bloodline, a method possessed only by my lord, who dwells within the river of time. Good luck, agent of a foreign god..."