Kraznys lay paralyzed on the ground, his rolls of fat trembling violently like waves.
He craned his neck, staring at the three colossal dragon heads casting a shadow of death from the sky above. A foul-smelling liquid rapidly spread beneath him.
Fear had finally crushed the last of his sanity.
"No... No!"
He let out a shriek that didn't sound human, scrambling backward on all fours, trying to get away from Lynn, who now looked like a demon god.
"Guards! City Watch!"
He screamed with all his might toward the edge of the plaza.
"Kill him! Kill him for me! Kill these damned Westerosi!"
This was his last card, the final reliance of the Good Masters of Astapor.
Following his miserable command, the chaotic sound of footsteps and clashing metal erupted from the streets surrounding the plaza.
Six hundred members of the Astapor City Watch poured out from the shadows.
They wore chainmail, clutching spears and curved swords, their faces etched with the ferocity of men accustomed to bullying slaves.
However, when they saw the three-headed dragon in the sky—a creature that belonged only in myth—that ferocity instantly transformed into pure terror.
"Don't be afraid! There are only a few of them!"
A man who looked like a captain shouted, trying to steady the morale of his troops despite his own fear.
"Kill him! Master Kraznys will reward each of us with ten slaves!"
Under the promise of heavy reward, greed reignited in the eyes of the rabble.
Shouting strange cries, they raised their weapons and surged toward Lynn and his party in the center of the plaza.
Viserys was trembling with fright, instinctively taking two steps back to hide behind Daenerys.
Daenerys's body was tense. She gripped Lynn's sleeve tightly, her beautiful face drained of all color.
Lynn didn't even bat an eyelid.
He simply looked up at the behemoth circling in the sky and gave a soft whistle.
"Roar——!"
The answer was three roars loud enough to tear the sky apart!
Winter had received Lynn's command.
Its massive body suddenly plummeted like an iceberg falling from the heavens, crashing toward the charging City Watch with endless destructive power!
Boom!
The moment the dragon landed, the hard stone plaza cracked inch by inch.
The gale whipped up by its wings sent dozens of guards in the front row flying, their bones snapping mid-air!
Chaos erupted.
Winter's largest central head lunged forward.
Its bloody maw opened wide, snapping up two panicked guards in a single bite.
Crunch——!
The sound of bones and armor being crushed together set teeth on edge.
Blood sprayed like a waterfall from between the dragon's teeth, staining its icy blue jaw a shocking dark red.
With a casual toss of its head, the guards, now reduced to meat paste, were flung away like trash, smashing against distant buildings and leaving streaks of gore.
The left head rose high, taking a deep breath.
The surrounding air seemed to be sucked empty in an instant, the temperature dropping sharply.
A second later, a torrent of white air mixed with countless ice crystals surged from its giant maw!
It wasn't fire, but a freezing dragon breath more terrifying than flame!
Wherever the breath passed, time seemed to freeze.
The terrified expressions on the faces of a dozen guards were frozen forever.
Their bodies were instantly covered in a thick layer of frost, turning into lifelike ice sculptures.
Winter's massive wing swept across them casually, and the ice sculptures shattered like fragile glass, turning into a cloud of ice chips and bloody mist.
[You have killed an Astapor City Watchman. XP +3]
[You have killed an Astapor City Watchman. XP +2]
[You have killed...]
A string of system notifications scrolled madly through Lynn's mind. The cold numbers sounded like the sweetest music.
One guard summoned his last ounce of courage and hurled his spear at Winter.
However, the spear, capable of piercing iron armor, only made a crisp clang when it hit Winter's translucent blue scales, bouncing off harmlessly and falling to the ground.
Despair began to spread among the surviving guards.
They were facing not a conquerable enemy, but a magical creature representing the apex of combat power!
The massacre continued.
Winter was like a butcher in a sheep pen.
In the most primal and brutal way, it enjoyed the feast of slaughter.
Every swipe of its claws easily tore through flesh and armor.
Every sweep of its massive tail sent a row of guards flying like refuse.
Within minutes, the plaza had turned into a meat grinder.
Severed limbs, internal organs, and shredded flesh covered the ground.
The thick smell of blood mixed with the chill of frost created a scent from hell itself.
Daenerys watched, trembling all over, her stomach churning violently.
Though she loathed this city of sin, such a bloody and cruel scene made her heart almost stop beating.
She buried her face deep in Lynn's chest, daring not to look again.
Viserys watched dumbfounded, his handsome face a mix of extreme fear and a sickly ecstasy.
"Burn them! Yes! Just like that!"
"Burn them all to ash!"
He growled excitedly.
As if he were the one commanding the dragon wreaking havoc.
But when he saw Lynn's terribly calm profile, that ecstasy instantly turned into bone-chilling jealousy.
This should be my power!
This dragon should obey my commands!
Lynn ignored the fool beside him.
His gaze fell on the Unsullied who remained kneeling on one knee, awaiting orders.
He raised the golden whip in his hand and issued a new command in that ancient and majestic High Valyrian.
"Dovaogēdys!" (Unsullied!)
"Geltī aōhe qrīdonnon!" (Pick up your spears!)
Eight thousand Unsullied stood up in perfect unison, gripping their weapons once more.
"Skoroso jemēle syt zentyssy, skoroso syt gaomā?" (Do you want to be free men, or do you want to fight?)
"Zentyssy!" (Free men!)
The roar of eight thousand men merged into a wave of sound that shook the heavens and the earth, even drowning out the dragon's growl!
"Vaoreznuni jemēle gīda, yn gaomā, yn zentyssy!" (Then prove it with your actions! Fight! For freedom!)
Lynn's spear pointed at the Good Masters, who were scared out of their wits and trying to flee the plaza.
"Sōvētēs! Kessa!" (Fly! Kill!)
"Kessa!"
Grey Worm was the first to respond to Lynn's call.
He turned, the spear in his hand like a bolt of black lightning, stabbing without hesitation into the nearest Good Master.
Thwack——!
The spear tip easily pierced the expensive silk and the flabby belly, bringing out a spray of hot blood.
The Good Master didn't even have time to scream before he fell into a pool of his own blood, eyes wide open.
The floodgates of slaughter, once opened, could not be closed.
Eight thousand Unsullied, slaves suppressed for countless years, finally turned their spears against their true enemies!
They didn't charge chaotically like the City Watch.
They maintained perfect formation, moving in squad phalanxes, efficiently harvesting the lives of those who had once treated them as livestock.
One Good Master ran only a few steps before being nailed to the ground by three spears from different directions.
Another hid behind a slave, only to be dragged out by an Unsullied and impaled through the chest.
No mercy. No hesitation.
This was the instinct drilled into them over years of training.
Only this time, they fought for themselves!
For freedom!
The slaves who had received gold coins and hope the night before exploded into action after a brief moment of panic.
A skinny cook grabbed a cleaver and hacked viciously at the overseer who had once whipped him.
Several ragged stable hands used pitchforks to pin a minor Good Master alive to the stable doors as he tried to flee.
Hatred suppressed for too long erupted like a volcano!
All of Astapor turned into a chaotic slaughterhouse!
Lynn stood in the center of the plaza, the eye of the storm, calmly watching everything.
Winter had finished its battle. Of the six hundred City Watchmen, not one was left alive.
It was using its massive head to tear at a relatively intact corpse, making a satisfied purring sound.
[You have killed 600 Astapor City Watchmen]
[XP +1368]
Lynn didn't distribute the points immediately.
His gaze looked past the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, toward the tallest and grandest pyramid in the distance.
He knew the feast had only just begun.
"Jorah."
Lynn's voice rang out.
"Here, my Lord."
Jorah Mormont strode quickly to Lynn.
He was covered in blood, and his grey eyes burned with a light never seen before.
"Take Grey Worm and a thousand Unsullied."
Lynn tossed the golden whip to Jorah.
"Go liberate every slave in this city for me."
"Tell them, from this day forth, there are no slaves in Astapor."
"Only free men."
Jorah Mormont caught the golden whip.
The handle was cold and heavy, the Harpy statue inlaid upon it seemingly mocking the world with its hollow eyes.
He glanced at the Unsullied named Grey Worm beside him.
Grey Worm's eyes were no longer dead water, but burning magma!
No words were needed; they reached a tacit understanding in that moment.
Jorah raised the golden whip high.
"For freedom!"
He roared with all his strength.
"Kessa!"
The phalanx of a thousand Unsullied drove like an iron plow into the chaotic body of Astapor.
Their footsteps were uniform, shaking the earth with every stride.
They were no longer slaves; they were a torrent of vengeance.
Astapor had gone mad.
A fat Good Master was running in panic toward his mansion.
His gorgeous tokar was soaked in sweat, clinging to his fat, making him look utterly wretched.
"Close the gate! Close the gate, quickly!"
He screamed at the household slaves at the entrance.
However, the slaves who had been subservient only yesterday looked at him coldly.
One of them clutched a gold dragon coin he had received the night before.
The mansion gates opened slowly from the inside.
Greeting the Good Master was not a safe haven, but his "loyal" slaves.
They held high candlesticks, roasting forks, and decorative swords torn from the walls.
The blood drained from the Good Master's face.
"What... what are you doing?"
His answer was a silver wine pitcher smashed viciously into his face.
Every corner of the city was staging the same bloody drama.
In kitchens, cooks whipped for burning bread now chased their former overseers with sharp cleavers. The overseers' screams were worse than pigs thrown into boiling oil.
In silk-lined bedrooms, slave girls forced to pleasure their masters used belts and hairpins to strangle a Good Master known for his "unique tastes." Their faces were a mix of tears and sweat, their expressions both relieved and manic.
On the "Walk of Punishment," the stakes once used for slaves welcomed new guests.
Gluttonous Good Masters were dragged over by angry slaves to pay their blood debts in the most primitive way.
A Good Master was nailed alive to a stake.
He wailed, cursed, and promised all his wealth in Ghiscari.
But the only response came from a small, skinny boy.
The boy smashed a rock hard into his mouth.
The boy's brother had died on this road last week, accused of stealing a glance at the Good Master's daughter...
Blood flowed like a river in the Plaza of Punishment.
Viserys watched, face pale, stomach churning.
"Savage... too savage!"
He covered his mouth, his voice filled with unconcealed disgust and fear.
"This isn't war! This is a pack of mad dogs biting people! There is no honor in this!"
His imagined conquest involved dragons breathing fire and enemies turning to ash amidst wails, while he elegantly stepped over their corpses amidst the kneeling populace.
Not watching a bunch of filthy slaves butcher their masters in the vilest ways.
"Honor doesn't fill a belly, Your Grace."
Lynn's voice was as calm as if discussing the weather.
Winter was full.
It lay in a corner of the plaza, batting a corpse of a City Watchman with a giant claw, like a cat bored with a ball of yarn.
Its three heads yawned occasionally, puffing out clouds of white mist that froze the surrounding gore into ice.
Daenerys still hid behind Lynn.
She dared not look at the bloody scenes, but she could clearly hear the cries and roars of vengeance suppressed for years.
She clutched Lynn's sleeve, the fabric her only anchor in the storm.
"Will... will they stop?" Her voice trembled.
"When the flood of hatred breaks the dam, it won't stop until it runs dry."
Lynn looked at the tallest pyramid in the distance, his tone unwavering.
"We just have to wait."
Just then, a squad of Unsullied brought a lavishly dressed Good Master before Lynn.
He was about fifty, extremely well-preserved. Unlike his peers who were pissing themselves in terror, his face retained a shred of the composure belonging to a man of high status.
"I am Pree... Pree of the Spicers."
He looked at Lynn and spoke in heavily accented Common Tongue.
"I am the head of the Spicers Guild. I am very rich, my noble Lord."
"I can give you money. Lots and lots of money."
"I can give you gold beyond counting."
Viserys's eyes lit up instantly.
"Did you hear that, Lynn! Gold! He has lots of gold!"
He rubbed his hands excitedly.
"Accept it! Accept it quickly!"
Lynn looked at the spice merchant named Pree with interest.
"You have courage."
"No, my Lord, I am just a merchant."
Pree forced a smile.
"Merchants know how to weigh pros and cons."
"Kill us, and you get an empty city and a bunch of useless paupers."
"But keep us, and you get a steady stream of wealth."
"What you say makes sense." Lynn nodded.
Viserys's delight deepened.
But Lynn turned his head to the Unsullied holding Pree. "Where was he caught?"
The Unsullied answered in broken Common Tongue.
"His mansion, Master. He was trying to escape through a secret tunnel."
"What else was in the mansion?"
"Many spices, gold and silver, and... fifty children chained up. Their tongues were cut out."
Lynn's gaze returned to Pree, the amusement gone from his face.
"A merchant who cuts out children's tongues."
Lynn's voice was soft.
"Do you think your gold can buy back your life?"
The smile on Pree's face froze.
Lynn waved his hand.
Understanding the gesture, the Unsullied thrust his spear through Pree's chest without hesitation.
"No——!"
Viserys screamed, not for Pree, but for his imaginary gold.
"You're crazy! You lunatic!"
He rushed up to Lynn, spitting in his face.
"That was gold! Gold to arm our army! And you just..."
Slap——!
A crisp sound.
The whole world went quiet.
Viserys clutched his rapidly swelling cheek, looking at Lynn in disbelief.
"You... you dare hit me?"
His voice trembled.
"I am the King! I am the dragon!"
"A King who can't even stand steady?"
Lynn withdrew his hand, too lazy to even wipe it.
He looked at Viserys's face, twisted with humiliation.
"I warned you to watch your mouth."
"Daenerys."
Lynn didn't look at him again, turning instead to his wife.
"Do you think I did the right thing?"
Daenerys looked at her brother, who was still dazed, then at the dead spice merchant on the ground.
She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and took Lynn's arm.
"What you do is always right."
In that moment, the last shred of familial love she held for Viserys vanished into smoke.
Viserys looked as if struck by lightning.
He watched the couple standing together, seeing the resolve and adoration on Daenerys's face.
A sense of humiliation stronger than the slap engulfed him.
Lynn spoke to Kraznys, who was limp on the ground nearby.
"Look, he did something stupid again."
"Inciting the Unsullied to openly rebel against the Good Masters."
"How are we supposed to do business here in the future?"
"Don't you agree, Kraznys?"
Terror-stricken and threatened by the look in Lynn's eyes, Kraznys nodded like a chicken pecking rice.
"Yes! It was this boy!"
"Inciting the slaves had nothing to do with you, my Lord!"
Someone had to take the blame for the rebellion.
Everyone understood, including Daenerys.
But she didn't stop it.
She understood Lynn's attitude toward Viserys.
He was just a tool to take the fall.
"Take my good King back and guard him strictly. He's so tired he's talking nonsense."
"Kraznys, you stay here with me for now."
"Remember, you know very well what should be said to the outside world and what shouldn't."
Just then, a roar like a tsunami came from the distance.
Thousands of slaves had gathered beneath Astapor's highest wall.
They looked up at the colossal bronze Harpy statue, the symbol of slavery and oppression, with fire in their eyes.
Dozens of thick ropes were thrown up, lassoing the Harpy's neck and wings.
"Pull——!"
A former stonemason, now a free man, stood on high, directing with a hoarse voice.
Countless hands gripped the ropes.
"One! Two! Three!"
With a unified chant, the bronze statue groaned under the strain.
It began to tilt, its base cracking.
Finally, with a loud crash, the Harpy that had overlooked Astapor for centuries plummeted.
It smashed into pieces on the hard stone pavement.
In that instant, the city erupted in a deafening cheer.
It was the sound of freedom.
Standing in the center of the plaza, watching the dust and debris fly, Lynn finally smiled.