[159] The Titan’s Gauntlet

Chapter 159: The Titan's Gauntlet

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The wind tasted different over the Narrow Sea. Not like the smoke and death that still clung to my nostrils from the Dothraki Ash Sea, but salt and possibility. I couldn’t hate the change, it was refreshing.

Below us, the waves caught moonlight like scattered diamonds, and I finally had time to process what a hundred thousand deaths had bought me.

Time to see what genocide gets you in this fucked up world.

The notifications had been piling up like corpses, and I'd dismissed them all during the slaughter. Now, with Braavos still hours away, I opened the floodgates.

[You've received experience points.]

[You've reached Level 75! Congratulations!]

[Your Old Valyrian blood has strengthened.]

[Your levels have reached a breakthrough…!]

[Your Class 'The Dragon King' has strengthened!]

[As a Dragon King, you are a Dragon yourself. What Dragon is limited by a mere mortal human body? You can now choose a draconic trait to evolve yourself.]

I pulled up my status page, the numbers glowing in my vision like prophecy written in fire.

=== Page [⅓] ===

Viserys Targaryen

The Dragon King

23 Years Old

Level 100 [A Milestone!]

Mana: 30/30

108 STR

111 END

109 DEX

115 INT

102 LUC

350 AUTH

=== Page [⅓] ===

Authority at 350. That's quite significant. In the show, they'd never quantified power like this. But here, living it, I could feel what those numbers meant. The weight of command, the gravity that bent lesser wills to mine.

Usually, my stats increased with the number of my level, and sometimes a point or two more based on my activities. AUTH was different. It jumped dozens as my influence grew. There was the new Mana stat too, something I’d discussed with Kinvara, which enlightened me with quite a few ideas on how to use it…

More importantly, I’d crossed a milestone. Two major thresholds crossed. Level 75 and Level 100. The System demanded choices.

For Level 75, the options appeared like offerings from dark gods.

[Choose your Third Major Dragon Trait:]

[Molten Heart]

[Draconic Majesty]

[Draconic Perception]

[Breath of Annihilation]

No descriptions, just names. The System loved its mysteries. But after what the Faceless Men had pulled – poison, assassination attempts, striking at my women – the choice was obvious. I needed something that’d make people tremble in their boots by my name alone.

I selected [Breath of Annihilation].

Power flooded through me, not the warm rush of previous upgrades but something colder. Deeper. I felt my throat change, new organs forming, a furnace of destruction nestling beside my lungs. When I exhaled experimentally, the air itself seemed to recoil.

"Brother?" Dany called from Drogon's back, her transformed senses picking up the change.

"Just becoming more myself," I replied, voice carrying new harmonics that made Viserion rumble approval beneath me.

The Level 100 choices materialized.

[Dragon King Milestone Trait - Choose One:]

[Dragonheart Nexus]

[Eternal Flame Core]

[Draconic Apotheosis]

[Flameborne Authority]

[The World-Eater's Legacy]

World-Eater. The name alone sent shivers through me. In the lore, Balerion had been called the Black Dread, but there were older names. Darker names. Dragons that had eaten cities whole in Valyria's height.

I was done playing small.

[The World-Eater's Legacy selected.]

The change hit like dragonfire injected directly into my veins. My bones groaned as my muscles tore and reknitted stronger. The world sharpened until I could count the scales on Rhaegal flying a mile away.

Power, raw and absolute, settled into my core like a sleeping volcano. I suddenly knew what this skill meant. No, it wasn’t a complete Dragon Transformation, but it was majestic enough regardless.

"Viserys!" Dany's voice held alarm now. "Your eyes—"

I caught my reflection in Viserion's scales. My pupils had become vertical slits, glowing with inner fire. When I smiled, my teeth looked sharper.

Good.

"We're almost there," I said, pointing to the horizon where mist gathered like a shroud. "Braavos. The Secret City. Where our enemies think stone and water can protect them from dragons."

"Don’t be arrogant, they have the Faceless Men," Dany reminded me, though her voice held more excitement than fear. My gifts had changed her too, made her hunger for the violence I'd awakened in her blood. "The Iron Bank. Tywin's gold."

"They have corpses walking," I corrected. "They just don't know it yet."

The Titan of Braavos emerged from the mist like a bad memory. That massive bronze guardian, legs straddling the channel, sword raised to the sky. In the show, it had been impressive CGI. In person, it was a monument to human arrogance.

Time to remind them why dragons ruled and men knelt.

"Remember," I called to Dany as we approached, "Tywin first. Then Littlefinger. The Faceless Men die last. I want them to watch their sponsors burn."

She laughed, wild and free. "As you command, my king."

We dove toward the city of assassins and bankers, three dragons and two monsters wearing human skin. Unsurprisingly, they were ready for us.

****

The Titan's eyes lit up like funeral pyres.

That's not right.

Bronze shouldn't glow. Bronze shouldn't move. But as we approached, panels I'd never noticed – because they'd never existed in the show – slid open across the colossus's body. The morning sun caught on metal. Lots of metal.

"SCATTER!" I roared, but the sky had already become death.

Scorpion bolts filled the air, not the crude spears Cersei would later use, but works of art. Each one was thick as my arm, tips gleaming with that oily sheen that screamed 'magic.' The cables that launched them hummed with power, and I realized with crystal clarity what we'd flown into.

They knew we were coming. I’m not surprised, but they seem to know a bit too much. Magical Divination?

I yanked Viserion hard left, my new senses screaming warnings. A bolt passed so close I felt the wind of its passage. Another grazed Viserion's side, drawing a line of golden blood.

Then one hit true.

The impact threw me forward as Viserion shrieked. The bolt had punched through her right wing where it met her body, and I could feel her pain through our bond like my own arm being torn off.

"Viserion!" I tried to steady her, but more bolts were coming. So many more.

I didn’t expect their Scorpion Bolts to be so strong. To hurt my main dragon, Viserion, who was much tougher than the Wyvern-type that was Rhaegal and Drogon, there must be impressive magic working behind those bolts. To my right, Rhaegal took one in the shoulder and began spiraling. Drogon reared to avoid a shot aimed at his heart, and I watched in slow motion as Dany was thrown from his back.

Well shit.

Her wings erupted, those beautiful shadows I'd gifted her, but the Braavosi had planned for that too. Smaller bolts, faster, fired from rooftops and towers. They shredded her wings like paper.

My own wings burst free as Viserion's damaged wing gave out entirely. We were falling, all of us, dragons and riders alike. The city rushed up to meet us, and I had just enough control to aim for a terracotta roof instead of the stone streets.

The impact drove all breath from my lungs. Tiles shattered, beams cracked, and I went through two floors before stopping in what looked like some magister's dining room. My wings were in tatters, bones broken in at least three places.

Yet, I couldn’t be more relaxed.

Level 100 and I'm still meat when I fall from the sky. Fantastic.

"Dany." I hauled myself up, ignoring the protests from my ribs.

"H-Here!" Her voice came from nearby, pained but alive. Through a hole in the wall, I could see her pulling herself from a destroyed fountain. Blood ran down her face, and her left arm hung wrong.

Above us, our dragons circled helplessly. The narrow canals and packed buildings made them flying fortresses with no room to maneuver. They couldn't even breathe fire amid the shower of bolts they were busy dodging.

Grounded. Separated from our dragons. In a city full of magical assassins. I thought while my eyes picked up movement in the shadows. On the rooftops. In the windows.

They emerged like nightmares given form. Men, women, young, old. Faces flowing between identities like water. Every one of them held a blade that seemed to drink in light.

"Faceless Men," Dany said, pressing her back to mine as we were surrounded. I counted. Twenty. Thirty. More appearing every second.

In the show, Arya had trained with them. They'd seemed mystical but manageable. These were different. Similar to the one who’d attacked me back in Casterly Rock. These moved like death itself had taken human form and decided to multitask.

One spoke, its voice neither male nor female. "Viserys Targaryen, we meet again. This time we shan’t fail. The Many-Faced God has been promised your death. The gold has been paid. The covenant is sealed."

"Yeah?" I spat blood, feeling my ribs already beginning to knit thanks to my regeneration. "Get in line."

These rude folks did not listen and rather attacked as one.

The first to reach me got a surprise. My neck flexed strangely as the new organ in my throat contracted. Instead of fire, pure annihilation erupted from my mouth. A beam of concentrated fire, like plasma. The Faceless Man didn't burn though, he simply ceased. One moment there, the next, not even ash remained.

[Breath of Annihilation activated. Cooldown: 60 seconds.]

Sixty seconds? Fuck.

"That's new," Dany said, her sword – where had she gotten a sword? – taking a Faceless Man's head. The body fell but the face kept changing even in death.

"Gift from my magic," I replied, ducking under a blade that would have opened my throat. My fist connected with my attacker's chest, and with my newfound strength, I felt ribs turn to powder. "Duck!"

She dropped, and I spun, catching two more assassins mid-leap. One got my elbow in his temple. The other met my knee coming up. Unlike last time where I struggled, I was 50 levels higher now. That didn’t mean I was “twice the strong” it meant much more. Both fell, but more kept coming.

This is their city. Their trap. They've had who knows how long to prepare.

A blade found the gap in my defense, sliding between my ribs. The pain was exquisite, but I'd felt worse. I grabbed the assassin's wrist, pulled him close, and bit out his throat.

The blood tasted like copper and victory.

"We need to move!" Dany called, her own fighting style a mix of water dancer grace and dragon savagery. "Find somewhere defensible!"

"No." I wiped blood from my mouth, feeling the wound in my side already closing. "That won’t be necessary. We end this here."

Because I could hear it now. The sound of more bolts being loaded. The creak of scorpions being aimed. Ah shit, I wanted to kill Tywin first. But fine.

They wanted us on the ground, fighting their assassins while they prepared the killing shot for my dragons. I laughed, and several Faceless Men actually stepped back.

"Of course, this much is expected. I’d have been disappointed if you guys didn’t put up this much of an effort,” I spoke to the air, the assassins, the city itself. "But. Let me show you. Futility."

The World-Eater's Legacy stirred in my chest, and I let it free. The transformation wasn't painful. It was ecstasy. I grew, muscles expanding, bones lengthening. Ten feet tall and still growing. My wings, shredded moments ago, regenerated and spread wider than the street. Golden scales covered my body, and a massive tail erupted from my tailbone. I roared into the air. My voice, when I spoke, shook the buildings.

"KNEEL."

Reality bent. The weaker-willed assassins dropped instantly, blood running from their ears. Others staggered, faces flickering between identities as their magic fought my command.

Dany stared up at me with something between awe and hunger. "Brother..."

"BURN THEM ALL," I commanded the dragons above, and for the first time, my voice reached them clearly despite the distance. Viserion, wounded wing and all, unleashed hell.

The battle for Braavos had begun.

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