[25] Weak Human

Chapter 25: Weak Human

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The path to the gazebo was strewn with sand and stone as she walked beside Jorah, her gaze fixed ahead. Her mind swirled with uncertainty as she approached the gazebo. Dany’s dragons were missing, many of her blood riders dead, and every promise of safety from Qarth’s grand city gates had turned out to be nothing but dust.

With a storm brewing in her heart, she smelled the scent of seawater mixing with the acrid stench of blood as they came to a stop. Before them stood a gazebo framed by four pillars. Under its shadow, a woman was wetting a paintbrush, dipping it into a goat's skull filled with fresh blood.

“Ser Jorah, the Andal.” The masked woman spoke without looking up, her attention on painting a strange pattern across a man’s bare back. Dany watched the strange process. The blood trickled down his skin, and he remained eerily still.

Is she a sorceress? She wondered. Maybe she should return, then. She didn’t like sorcerers, for one had claimed her husband’s life.

The masked woman, whose name was Quaithe according to Ser Jorah, continued her work as she spoke. “This man must sail past Old Valyria. All who travel close to the Doom need protection.”

“We didn’t come here to talk about protection,” Jorah grunted, stepping forward, his eyes flicking uneasily over the blood-soaked scene.

“I know,” Quaithe replied, her voice calm. Her eyes, the only visible part of her face through her mask, turned towards Daenerys. “You’re here for your dragons.” Her gaze was as though she could see right through her, past the uncertainty and exhaustion, to the desperation she fought to hide.

Daenerys’s heart skipped a beat. Jorah’s hand went instinctively to the hilt of his spear. “You have them?” he demanded, voice edged with suspicion. “Where are they?”

“Draw your spear.” Quaithe paused her painting, her gaze shifting to Jorah, her voice holding a challenge. “See what your steel is worth here.”

“Ser Jorah, enough,” Daenerys’ jaw clenched, and she stepped between them. She placed a hand on Jorah’s arm, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric. He tensed but obeyed, stepping back, though his eyes never left Quaithe.

“Do you have my dragons?” Daenerys asked, her tone steely, her patience frayed.

Quaithe tilted her head slightly, her movements unhurried. “I do not, princess.”

The air thickened with tension, and Daenerys clenched her teeth. She looked at Jorah, sighing. “Another loose end,” she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice.

“Not a loose end. You were led here for guidance,” Quaithe said simply. “You seek your dragons, but they are only a part of your path. You must seek the last of your blood. Alone, you can’t achieve your goals.”

Daenerys frowned, her eyes narrowing. “The last of my blood? Much of my blood was slaughtered in this city,” she snapped, her words cold. The blood of her blood, a large number of her loyal Dothraki, had perished.

“They’re not your blood,” the woman shook her head. “Your blood is the blood of dragons, and they are mere barbarians. They’re not who I’m talking about.”

Dany scoffed. Was this woman insane? “If you mean Viserys, he must be dead in some desert and good riddance.”

Quaithe scoffed softly. “Stubborn as ever. The Targaryens must stand together, princess. He’s not dead, he has one of the dragons, and you will need him.”

Dany stared at her. One of the dragons? Not just the egg? She couldn’t be sure what this woman meant, but her decision was final. “I need no one but my dragons,” Daenerys shot back, turning to leave. This was nothing but another cryptic waste of time. And if Viserys was indeed alive, the first thing she’d do to him after finding him was burn him to ashes.

She had lost much—starting with her husband, her child, and then her blood riders. Why should she look for Viserys, who had never been anything but cruel? No, wasn’t it due to him that Drogo died? When he forced Drogo to let him escape by blackmailing the child in her womb, the entire Dothraki saw Drogo as a weakling. That must be why one of those blood riders dared insult and challenge him, prompting him to get that wound that ultimately led to his demise because of that witch’s betrayal.

In one sense, it wasn’t the witch’s fault, nor was it Dany’s for trusting that witch. It was her brother’s fault, that useless piece of human trash. The last of her blood? It was good to know that he was alive. Because she’d kill him with her own hands one day.

Quaithe’s voice cut through the air, stopping her mid-step. “Heh. Do consider my words, Princess. But as for your dragons,” she said, “while I do not have them, I do know where they are.”

Daenerys paused, her heart thudding, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned back, eyes wide with a glimmer of hope. “Tell me,” she demanded, her voice low.

****

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the world draped in twilight as I slid off my horse’s back. The edge of Kingswood stretched out before me, and impossibly high silhouettes of trees cast long, wavering shadows across the earth.

The stillness of the evening hung heavy in the air as if the entire forest held its breath, waiting for what was to come.

The forest at night was just how I wanted it. It was quiet, dark, and most importantly, without prying eyes. If someone had decided to wander into Kingswood by chance, they’d see nothing but shadow. And shadows, I could handle.

Plus, Kingswood was the private hunting ground of the King, so it was safe for me to bring Viserion here since nobody else would be here to hunt. Joffrey was busy in the capital.

I led my horse to a small thicket, tying the reins loosely around a low-hanging branch before turning back to face the woods.

Dany White neighed softly, its eyes showing a mix of exhaustion and unease, its nostrils flaring as if sensing what lurked in these woods. I patted its neck briefly, muttering a quick reassurance. “Stay put. I’ve got something bigger to handle.”

With that, I stepped away, making my way deeper into the trees. The path was littered with fallen leaves and the occasional half-buried stone, and the night air grew cooler with each step. My boots crunched against the underbrush, but I didn’t try to move quietly. There was no need for stealth tonight.

The forest seemed to shift around me, the darkness growing thicker, almost tangible. My senses were on high alert, picking up the scattered movements of animals in the distance. I picked on the soft rustle of leaves as nocturnal creatures skittered about. My senses were far sharper than those of a normal man. I wondered just how strong I was. I didn’t quite understand my limits, but I never bothered to test them since I kept getting stronger each level up.

Regardless, my senses allowed me to move around the forest without confronting danger as I scouted the area. The forest was fascinating, really. Seeing animals larger than what I remembered from Earth, their glowing eyes watching from the shadows, cautious but unafraid. Stags, larger than anything I’d ever seen before. Wild boars, their tusks gleaming even in the dim moonlight.

But those weren’t my prey tonight.

I found a clearing soon enough. It was a break among the cluster of trees, an opening large enough for what I intended. The moonlight filtered down through the gaps, throwing silver beams across the forest floor.

I exhaled, spreading my palm and facing the air. The air trembled, and space-time cracked. It split, revealing darkness on the other side, with a flash of golden.

It wasn’t even a heartbeat later that she burst forth—Viserion, a blur of shimmering scales and feral energy. She didn’t greet me, the rude girl, as her wings beat down, propelling her upward with a rush of wind.

Leaves stirred around me, ruffling my hair as I watched her ascend. She let out a roar that was a deep, resonating sound reverberating across the clearing. It silenced everything.

She took to the sky, her form disappearing against the dark canvas above, her golden wings a blur against the stars. I stepped back, my eyes fixed on her silhouette as she hovered, her head turning, surveying the land beneath her while fire slipped from her nostrils.

I had chosen this clearing because it was away from the densest part of the forest, away from the chance of setting the entire forest ablaze. But as Viserion let out another roar, diving down with a burst of speed, flames spewing forth from her jaws, I couldn’t help the slight pang of uncertainty that crept into my thoughts.

The fire lit up the clearing, turning night into day for the briefest moments.

Huh.

Maybe the night wouldn’t matter if someone truly was around. They’d see the dragon to all her glory, and rumors would spread like wildfire. Shit. Starting next time, I had to visit even further than Kingswood. Somewhere less occupied.

The deer scattered, some caught by the flame, their cries echoing as they fell, the forest floor alive with chaos. The air reeked of smoke, the heat of the fire licking at the nearest branches, but the trees remained, for now, untouched.

I stood back, watching as Viserion descended upon the carcasses, her eyes glinting, her snout lowering to feast. She grabbed it with her jaw and took off to the sky, vanishing. I couldn’t help but grin. I didn’t have a proper army yet, but I felt invincible when I saw a sight like this. She was powerful, more powerful than anything in this world, and she was mine.

“Rargh!” My body jolted as a roar came from behind me. It wasn’t from Viserion; no, it was something else. Instinct took over as I spun, hand already reaching for my spear from my Inventory.

The sound was guttural and full of fury, and my eyes locked onto the source. It was a tiger, larger than anything I had ever seen before—even larger than Viserion. Well, that wasn’t a surprise considering she was only as large as a horse right now. The tiger’s eyes glowed in the dark, its muscles rippling beneath its striped fur as it stalked forward, lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth.

I drew my spear, the blade glinting in the moonlight, my stance shifting as I readied myself. I was strong… but could I beat a tiger in 1v1? I felt like a madman as I faced it.

The tiger growled, its eyes locked on me, and I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins. This was not a fight I had anticipated, but it was one I would face.

The tiger lunged, muscles coiled like a spring, its eyes fixed on me. My grip on my spear tightened, my body moving instinctively. I was ready to test my limits. But before I could even swing, a shadow passed overhead, a deafening roar echoing through the clearing.

“Groarghh!” Viserion came crashing down from above, her jaws opening wide as she unleashed a burst of fire. The tiger barely had time to react, its roar turning into a strangled cry as the flames engulfed it, the heat searing through fur and flesh. The beast fell, its body crumpling to the ground, smoke rising from the charred remains.

Viserion didn’t hesitate. She pounced on the still-smoking carcass, her jaws snapping down, tearing through flesh and bone. I watched, my heart still pounding, my spear still in my hand, as my dragon feasted, her growl echoing into the night.

And then something happened, something I couldn’t have anticipated. Viserion lifted her head, her eyes turning towards me, the flames still flickering around her jaws. Her lizard-like gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something in them—something intelligent.

She narrowed her eyes, her head tilting slightly, and then, to my utter disbelief, she spoke. “...Weak… human,” she growled, a guttural, loud voice that made the leaves tremble. It sounded like the eruption of a volcano.

I stared in disbelief as her deep voice resonated through the clearing. Her words were harsh but not dripping with disdain, and her spelling sounded like that of a child trying to copy something she’d heard.

“....?” I stared, stunned into silence, my grip on my spear loosening.

Before I could even comprehend what had just happened, Viserion spread her wings, pushing off the ground with a powerful beat. The wind stirred the leaves around me as she took to the sky once more. I stood there, alone in the clearing, my eyes following her form as she disappeared into the night, her words still echoing in my mind.

Weak human.

The clearing fell silent, the only sound the distant crackle of the fire still smoldering. I lowered my spear, exhaling slowly, my mind still reeling. So my dragon could speak. That was new. And despite the [Respect] bar being high, she was a moody little lizard.

“...That girl needs to respect her elders,” I laughed. Finally, the Dragon System was doing its job.

[Image Here]

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