However, the Unsullied remained motionless. Their eyes shifted between the scepter and the furious Grazdan, and there seemed to be some struggle in their numb gaze, but their long-term fear of the Harpies' scepter kept them frozen in place.
Viserys no longer looked at the Good Masters. He turned to the Unsullied formation, his gaze sharp, his voice imbued with enchanting magic.
"Unsullied, look at this scepter, look at your masters. These so-called 'Good Masters' command you to kill infants, torture your brethren, and maintain their blood-sucking rule from atop their Pyramids. They tell you that you have no names, no past, no self, just tools."
"But today, I tell you," Viserys's voice suddenly rose.
"From this moment on, this scepter no longer represents oppression, but liberation. I, Viserys Targaryen, have the blood of the Valyrian Dragon Kings flowing within me. Your ancestors, perhaps, once pledged allegiance to the Dragon Kings. And today, I stand here to return to you what was stolen: dignity and freedom. You will have the right to choose to live as a person."
Grazdan completely panicked, screaming at the Mercenaries, "What are you waiting for? Kill them quickly! Mercenaries, attack!"
The mercenary leader, who had been mingling in the crowd, saw this and knew he could no longer wait. He drew his sword and roared, "Move! Take down that silver-haired boy!"
Hundreds of Mercenaries surged from different directions, pouncing towards Viserys.
Arthur and Alliser immediately drew their swords, and a dozen warriors formed a defensive line.
Just then, an earth-shattering dragon roar came from the sky. The sound, full of primal power and majesty, instantly drowned out all the clamor in the square.
Everyone, including the charging Mercenaries, involuntarily looked up.
Two black dots were rapidly growing larger.
In an instant, Blackflame, the enormous black dragon, appeared in the sky, its wingspan covering the sun, its dark scales reflecting the sunlight, and crimson flames burning in its scarlet dragon eyes.
Beside it was Ghidorah, slightly smaller, with a golden glow flowing around its body, yet its aura was no less imposing, even more bizarre with its three heads.
Blackflame swooped down, spewing a blast of scorching dragonfire at the mercenary ranks. The dark red, blood-like flames swept through like the whip of death, and dozens of Mercenaries instantly became screaming, rolling fire-men. The terrible smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
Ghidorah's three heads opened simultaneously; the middle one spewed a golden annihilation ray of distorted light, vaporizing the Good Masters and several nearby guards along with their armor. The left one spewed icy breath, freezing a patch of sand and the enemies on it. The right one spewed scorching dragonfire, complementing Blackflame's dragonfire.
Dragons! Two giant dragons! The square erupted into chaos. The onlookers fled in terror, while the slaves stood stunned, gazing at the overlords in the sky. Ancient legends of Valyrian dragons instantly flooded their minds, transforming into tangible fear.
The entire square was in pandemonium. The mercenary charge completely collapsed, crying and scattering, even trampling each other. The surviving Good Masters collapsed to the ground, pale-faced, and Grazdan's pants were soaked.
But the Unsullied still stood in place, their formation undisturbed. However, the long-standing emptiness and numbness in their eyes were now replaced by immense shock and an unprecedented light.
Dragons! Real dragons! Answering the call of the man holding the scepter, who declared he would give them dignity and freedom. Before this power, their old masters were like chickens and dogs.
Viserys seized this opportunity, pointed the scepter at the fleeing Good Masters and Mercenaries, and commanded,
"Unsullied, take up your weapons. Not for your masters' commands, but for your own future, for dignity and freedom. Kill all the Good Masters and enslavers, but do not harm any children, and free all other slaves. Liberate Astapor."
Silence.
A suffocating silence, lasting about three heartbeats.
Then, an Unsullied with three spikes on his head, standing in the front row, moved. He had a scarred face whose age was indistinguishable, and in his usually numb eyes, a flame of vengeance ignited. He slowly leveled his spear, its tip aimed at his former master, Grazdan.
This action was like a signal.
As if an invisible floodgate had opened. Thirteen thousand Unsullied, like a gray torrent suddenly infused with souls, turned in unison, spears like a forest, stepping forward.
It was not a chaotic charge, but a formation maintained with perfect order, crushing towards the remaining Good Masters and Mercenaries with long-suppressed, silent fury.
Soon, the slaughter began.
Well-trained, disciplined, and immune to pain, the Unsullied. Against these terrified, disorganized Mercenaries and helpless Good Masters, the outcome was, of course, without suspense.
The Unsullied's spears accurately pierced through ornate robes and fragile flesh, and their shields knocked away guards attempting to resist. Brief, shrill screams echoed in the square, quickly drowned out by the silent, resolute footsteps of the Unsullied.
Viserys rode Ghidorah, flying over the city, occasionally spewing a golden ray, or ice and fire. Blackflame, on the other hand, circled above the city, letting out roars from time to time to intimidate the enemies within the city.
The battle soon drew to a close, and Viserys landed on the high platform in the city's central square, a place originally used for punishing slaves.
The chaos in the city gradually subsided, and more and more slaves were liberated, gathering in the central square and on the streets. Dressed in rags, still bearing the marks of shackles, they all looked at the silver-haired figure on the high platform, their eyes filled with reverence.
Soon, the Unsullied formation reassembled, spear tips dripping with blood.
Viserys looked down at the vast crowd below, then raised his scepter. The square quickly fell silent, with only the heavy breathing of the crowd remaining.
"You have just killed your slave masters and toppled the statues built with the blood of your brothers."
Viserys said to the Unsullied, pointing to the collapsed Harpies' giant statue in the distance.
"Now, you are free."
He tossed the scepter, symbolizing absolute obedience of the Unsullied, into the air, then drew Blackfyre and sliced it in half.
"I am going to rebuild the Valyrian Empire. I need you to fight for me. I will treat you as free men. Of course, you have your own choice, as I promised you. But those who fight for me will receive generous rewards; you will receive land and titles, and many will become knights or lords."
However, the Unsullied merely watched him in silence. Then one Unsullied began to stomp his spear heavily on the ground, and soon more Unsullied joined, the sound gradually becoming uniform.
Viserys waved his hand, signaling them to be quiet.
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