A massive head tumbled to the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a stop.
Rhaegar's blood boiled with excitement, and his emotions surged through him like a storm.
With flames surging around him, he felt an inexhaustible supply of strength coursing through his body.
Using his spear for support, he rose to his feet and bent down to pick up the burning dragon claw.
In his right hand, he held his spear. In his left, his sword.
His gaze was sharp and piercing as he swept his eyes over the High Mountain Clan warriors, who dared not step forward.
After slaying the young giant, the flames on his body burned even brighter, flickering wildly in the wind.
Stepping toward the gathered High Mountain warriors, Rhaegar spread his arms wide, lifted his head high, and roared:
"Come on! Kill me! Kill a Dragon King!"
The High Mountain warriors instinctively stepped back, their eyes filled with fear as they stared at the silver-haired youth wreathed in flames.
Rhaegar pressed forward, his spear pointing ahead as he declared loudly, "I am Rhaegar Targaryen! Who dares take my life?"
His voice echoed through the valley, reaching every ear.
At this moment, he was fearless.
With the blood of dragons and the gift of fire magic, he had transcended mortal limitations—he was no longer an ordinary man.
The High Mountain warriors continued retreating, shoving each other in hesitation, yet none dared to be the first to step forward.
Before their eyes, a youth engulfed in flames had slain the mightiest descendant of the valley's giants.
To the High Mountain warriors, Rhaegar was no longer human.
He was a fire god, revealing his divine power before them.
High above the canyon, the High Mountain war chief stared in disbelief, his expression manic as he screamed, "Kill him! He's exhausted—finish him off now!"
He had seen the tribe's fire witches, those who claimed to follow the will of the Flame God.
The youth before him, engulfed in fire, had to be a fraud.
A fake!
Hearing their leader's command, the High Mountain warriors fought against their instinct to flee. They hesitated but ultimately stopped retreating.
Rhaegar continued advancing, his expression cold and unyielding.
With every step, he closed the distance between them.
The High Mountain warriors gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes fixed on the fire-cloaked figure before them, fear looming over them like a shadow.
"Attack! He's just one man!"
A shout rang out from the crowd, and as if spurred into action—or perhaps unable to bear the terror any longer—the warriors surged forward in a frenzied charge.
Rhaegar remained unfazed, crossing his spear and sword in front of him.
The gap between them rapidly closed, and soon, weapons clashed.
**"Screeeech!!"**
Suddenly, an enraged dragon's roar split the sky, shaking the valley to its core as a massive shadow loomed overhead.
**BOOM!**
A torrent of eerie green dragonfire cascaded from the heavens, a raging flood that engulfed half the valley.
Beneath the dragonflame, the High Mountain warriors didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to charcoal, their bodies disintegrating into ash.
Rhaegar tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and stood still, letting the dragonfire wash over him.
Nearby warriors had already turned to dust. Rocks, grass, iron—all melted away, leaving behind only scorched earth.
Within the eerie green blaze, only Rhaegar's crimson flames remained.
Moments later, the dragonfire ceased.
The colossal black form of Devourer circled above the valley, its green reptilian eyes filled with madness as more dragonfire smoldered at the edges of its maw.
"It's over."
Rhaegar opened his eyes as the flames on his body slowly faded.
Surveying his surroundings, he saw nothing but devastation—there were no survivors.
Turning around, he spotted two intact wagons, miraculously untouched by the dragonfire.
Suddenly, his ears twitched at a faint sound.
His gaze snapped toward the canyon's edge, where the High Mountain war chief had somehow survived and was now scrambling to flee, running wildly like a headless chicken.
A sharp pain throbbed in Rhaegar's left shoulder, and he let out a cold sneer.
An ambush? And now you're trying to escape?
Do you really think you can run?
He gripped his spear, aimed, and hurled it with all his might.
The weapon cut through the air at blinding speed before plunging downward—landing precisely along the war chief's escape path.
**Squelch!**
The spear pierced straight through his back, erupting from his chest and pinning him firmly to the soft earth.
Blood spurted from his mouth as he struggled, writhing in agony and howling in despair.
Rhaegar's eyes gleamed with merciless intent as he swapped his dragon claw back to his right hand and climbed the slope to where the war chief lay.
Jogging up to him, Rhaegar met his desperate, pleading gaze.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then, with a swift motion, he swung the dragon claw multiple times, severing the war chief's limbs one by one.
He had initially planned to extract some useful information.
But looking at the man's broken state, he doubted he'd get anything useful out of him.
That meant he wasn't even worthy of a swift death.
**Squelch—**
Rhaegar yanked the spear free.
A wave of exhaustion and pain crashed over him, making his knees buckle. He nearly collapsed.
**"Hiss…"**
With the battle over, the searing pain across his body finally hit him. Rhaegar sucked in a sharp breath, his face twitching.
It hurt. It hurt so damn much!
Especially the wound in his lower abdomen—it felt as if someone had ripped his guts out, scrubbed them clean, and shoved them back in.
**"Screeeech…"**
---
The Devourer circled once before flapping its wings and landing, its pitch-black body blocking out the sunlight.
Lowering its head, it sniffed the air, detecting the thick scent of blood.
Without the support of his fire, Regar's wounds had reopened, and fresh blood flowed freely.
"Regar!"
Rhaenyra's panicked cry rang out.
She rushed out of the carriage, tears streaming down her cheeks. Climbing the hillside with both hands and feet, she threw herself beside Regar in a frenzy.
During the ambush by the Mountain Clans, Rhaenyra had known she would only be a burden and didn't dare reveal herself for fear of distracting Regar.
But now that the Devourer had returned and the dust had settled, she could no longer suppress her emotions. She sprinted toward Regar as fast as she could.
"Sob… Your wounds…"
Seeing the blood pouring from his injuries, Rhaenyra covered her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably, her heart aching beyond measure.
This was the little brother she had raised since childhood.
Not only were they bound by blood, but they had entrusted their lives to each other.
Suddenly, as if realizing something, she said, "Regar, hold on!"
Gritting her teeth, she tore a strip of fabric from her skirt, wrapped her arms around his waist, and frantically tried to bandage the wound.
Regar groaned in pain, cold sweat instantly breaking out across his forehead. His legs gave out, and he collapsed against Rhaenyra.
His abdomen had been pierced clean through, and he could barely exert any strength in his waist.
"Shh~ Just hold on a little longer. I just need to stop the bleeding."
Tears streamed down Rhaenyra's face as she repeatedly murmured apologies, hastening her movements.
"Rhaenyra, we need to get out of here!"
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Regar leaned on Rhaenyra's shoulder, struggling to speak.
He hadn't noticed it in the heat of battle, but now the pain was unbearable.
He needed to find a place to treat his wounds—fast.
Wiping away her tears, Rhaenyra asked anxiously, "Where should we go? Back to the Eyrie?"
"No! The Eyrie is too far."
Regar's injuries were too severe. Trying to make it all the way there would be too dangerous.
After a moment of thought, he gasped, "We'll go to Runestone. We were ambushed—someone must have leaked our whereabouts."
"There's a traitor in Runestone? Wouldn't that be even more dangerous?" Rhaenyra's heart tightened.
"Dangerous or not, we have to go back."
Clenching his jaw, Regar growled, "The Mountain Clans have large numbers. Only a few hundred ambushed us—who's to say the rest aren't waiting in Runestone?"
Runestone was home to more than half of the Vale's nobility.
If the Mountain Clans struck there and wiped everyone out, the entire Vale would be thrown into chaos.
Rhaenyra hesitated, unwilling to return to a place she believed was compromised.
"We have two dragons. Besides, I need Runestone's maester to treat my wounds."
Regar made the decision outright.
The nearest towns were Runestone and Gulltown.
Runestone was dangerous, but Gulltown wasn't necessarily safer.
It was better to return to Runestone, rally the Vale's nobles, and secure their loyalty.
"…Fine. I'll help you onto the dragon's back."
Unable to argue with him, Rhaenyra supported Regar as they moved.
The Devourer crouched low, pressing its body to the ground, making it as easy as possible for its riders to climb aboard.
(End of Chapter)