Rumble~
With a roar from Balon Greyjoy, nearly two hundred knights wielding spears and greatswords spurred their steeds to charge at the crowd of Ironborn. Their hooves trampled heavily on the grass, erupting with an Aura that felt like thousands of soldiers and horses.
The Ironborn raised their weapons with bloodshot eyes, standing ready. The sound of hooves struck their hearts like hammers, and fear began to spread through the crowd.
Closer... closer!
The steeds Balon had purchased from the Westerlands at a high price were incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, they had charged to the front of the Ironborn's formation. The knights in the lead crashed their horses directly and violently into several Ironborn.
The power difference between man and horse was simply too vast. The defensive line the Ironborn thought was solid failed to provide any obstruction at all. As several people were sent flying, a gap was torn straight through the defensive line of thousands.
Like a Young Miss from a wealthy family opening her legs for the first time to receive a guest, blood instantly erupted from the crowd. The knights filed in, beginning to massacre the group who didn't even have armor with reckless abandon.
Too easy!
The knights charged and killed at will without any pressure. They had never fought such an easy battle, strolling through as if they were taking a walk in the countryside.
Asha charged back and forth several times with her spear, but her gaze didn't linger on them for long; she was constantly searching for Theon in the crowd.
Although she had looked down on her cowardly younger brother since childhood, Theon was still a member of House Greyjoy. Despite her cold exterior, Asha deeply yearned for a family reunion.
But after searching carefully for a long time, she saw no sign of her brother. Asha spurred her horse out of the crowd in confusion and rode to high ground to look out.
She saw the burly Rhys mounting a horse from somewhere unknown, with the bound Theon placed on the horse's rump. He was about to escape her sight.
Clearly, this fellow had already slipped away quietly before the battle began.
"fuck, I knew these guys had a plan all along!"
Asha cursed angrily, whipped the horse's rump hard, and quickly chased after Rhys.
What she didn't know was that an imperceptible dark figure was slowly approaching Balon Greyjoy in the distance, right under everyone's noses... "Stop, you damn bastard!"
Asha rode her horse through the woods, her heroic posture making her look like an outstanding knight who had survived a hundred battles.
Although Rhys had fled early, he wasn't riding a high-quality horse, and he was carrying the extra weight of Theon. Consequently, Asha gradually closed the distance during the pursuit.
Seeing that the distance was close enough, Asha took a hand axe from the side of her horse, adjusting her breathing as she tried to aim at Rhys ahead.
The hand axe was thrown with the sound of whistling wind. Having practiced throwing since childhood, she knew it would hit even without looking.
Sure enough, Rhys fell with a cry and crashed heavily to the ground, while his horse, startled, carried Theon into the woods.
However, Asha was in no hurry to chase Theon. She knew that without someone to control it, the horse wouldn't run too far. The priority was to deal with Rhys first.
Riding her horse to Rhys, Asha flipped off the horse, drew the sword at her waist, and used one hand to flip him over and grab him by the collar.
"Don't play dead, you bastard!"
Looking at the eyes-closed Rhys, Asha gave him two slaps. Seeing that he still refused to open his eyes, she pressed the tip of her sword directly against Rhys's throat:
"The axe I threw didn't hit any vital organs. If you keep faking it with me, I'll make sure you really die!"
"Hey... hey! Take it easy!"
Feeling the cold sensation, Rhys quickly opened his eyes and raised his hands to show he was no threat.
"Who exactly are you people? Why did you instigate the Ironborn to revolt?"
Looking at the smug Rhys, Asha frowned and questioned him sternly.
"Who says we instigated it? It was clearly your younger brother who wanted to uphold justice for them. That's why these stupid fools bathed Botley Castle in blood."
"Without a Greyjoy leading us, how would we have the guts to do something so outrageous?"
Facing a Sharp Weapon, Rhys seemed unusually relaxed, even having the inclination to chat with Asha.
"By the way, since you're so close to me, do you want to experience my strong body?"
"Hahaha~"
"Go to hell, you damn bastard!"
No longer able to contain the rage in her heart, Asha raised her longsword and stabbed directly at his throat.
But at that moment, the burly Rhys actually ignored the pain in his back, forcefully pushed Asha away, and leaped into the nearby bushes.
The unexpected massive force sent Asha stumbling. Then, the sound of wind came, and before she could dodge, she was instantly bound by a large net.
"You guys came just in time, Old Shag."
Emerging from the bushes, Rhys patted the dust off his clothes and tore away the bloody hand axe from his back, tossing it aside.
"There were too many people. It took a while to squeeze out."
Hearing the sarcasm in Rhys's words, Old Shag didn't get angry but explained patiently.
"You guys really are in league with each other!"
Bound by the large net, Asha was furious. She held her sword, trying to cut the rope and escape, but several sailors worked together to tighten the net and stripped her of all her weapons.
"Where is Lord Pyke?"
After Asha was completely under control, Rhys took off his shirt and signaled for Old Shag to tend to his wound.
A sailor nearby quickly handed over a roll of bandages, and Old Shag skillfully bandaged Rhys:
"The Lord said that Balon is old; it's time for him to meet the drowned god."
..."Who... exactly are you?"
Balon Greyjoy looked at the suddenly appearing Pyke with uncertainty and questioned him in a deep voice.
He had always been thin, but since the rebellion was suppressed, he had become even more haggard. His graying long hair hung down his thin back, and only his eyes remained sharp.
Although rumors from the outside said Balon was so old he could barely walk, he knew very well that if given a longsword, he could still charge across a battlefield just as he did in his youth.
"I am the one who has come for your life... Balon Greyjoy."
With a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth, Pyke slowly approached Balon with a trident, seemingly not worried at all that he would flee on horseback.
"Heh..."
"Over the years, there have been too many people who wanted my life."
Drawing the longsword at his side, Balon seemed to regain some of the feeling of fighting in blood from his youth. He pointed his sword at Pyke and roared:
"Who the hell do you think you are!"
This king of the iron islands, who had been proud his whole life, did not choose to turn and flee even in old age when facing a powerful enemy. Instead, he took up his weapon to confront him head-on.
The hooves of his steed flew. Amidst Balon's savage smile, the longsword pierced directly through Pyke's chest.
But before he could laugh out loud, the figure of the opponent became ghost-like and gradually transparent, as if he had no physical form at all.
Passing through Pyke's body along with his horse, Balon's expression gradually turned from joy to astonishment.
"What is dead may never die, is that right?"
The whisper in his ear sounded like notes from the God of Death calling for his soul. The sharp trident entered through Balon's back and came out through his chest, as brilliant red blood dripped onto the horse's back.
"What kind of... monster are you!"
Gasping for air in large gulps, blood foam flooded his entire throat, making Balon's speech slurred.
Gradually losing his strength, he slowly fell from the horse's back. In his final moments, he only heard the other's demonic whisper:
"What is dead... is dead!"
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