[Chapter Size: 3900 Words.]

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Third Person POV

North, 281 AC.

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Viserys Targaryen didn’t quite know when his horse started moving forward. He was alongside the other Dothraki in the first line of attack, watching the enemy from a kilometer away, until he began to hear thunderous sounds.

The voice coming from that distance surprised even the Dothraki, who, despite not understanding the language, could perceive the strength in the tone. They wondered what it was. Their eyes widened in astonishment.

Even Viserys himself, with a dry mouth, swallowed hard upon hearing someone exclaim so loudly that they could be heard from a kilometer away. That should not be something a man could do.

However, Khal Drogo, the man who had held him captive for two years, keeping him alive only to extract information, did not want to wait any longer. He issued an order for all the horses to advance.

Viserys barely had time to react before feeling the impact of the other riders around him. His horse was pushed forward by some Dothraki ensuring he would move and be there when the battle took place, and he realized he could not stop. Behind him, a horde advanced without hesitation.

If he tried to stop his horse, he would fall to the ground and be killed, trampled by the Dothraki themselves. Thus, he was carried along in the first row, unable to escape his fate.

The horses kept galloping furiously for several meters until, suddenly, he saw the first movement in the enemy army.

The thunderous sounds stopped for a moment, and soon a new noise filled the battlefield. Everyone saw, at the same time, a line of giant archers raising their enormous bows to the sky as arrows were fired. The Dothraki hesitated, realizing the imminent danger.

“This… This can’t be good,” Viserys thought, feeling his stomach churn.

He looked around and saw that even the Dothraki warriors seemed disturbed. Some showed signs of fear, their eyes fixed on the sky.

Then, the arrows began to descend.

Viserys was, at the very least, horrified, watching that swarm of projectiles coming his way. His body froze, and his mind screamed that this was the end.

The impact was immediate.

He saw the arrows falling around him, while men screamed in agony as the projectiles pierced them along with their horses. Animals howled in pain before collapsing, bringing their riders to the ground—if they hadn’t already been struck, in which case they were pinned together with their own beasts. Chaos began to spread through the Dothraki army, and the charge practically lost its greatest strength.

Viserys watched it all unfold around him, miraculously not being hit. He wanted to scream, but terror prevented him.

The Dothraki were being struck down mercilessly. Another volley of arrows then came from the sky immediately afterward, taking even more lives.

“Why won’t they stop?!” he murmured, feeling his heart pounding wildly.

Another rain of arrows fell, drawing even more screams of despair.

Viserys realized he could not stop. Perhaps it was fear driving him, the desperate will to escape that storm of death. He gripped the horse’s reins and forced it to keep advancing as fast as possible, with arrows continuing to fall behind him.

He looked back and saw that the Dothraki formation had been broken. Many were trying to maneuver around the flanks to escape the massacre. Others were trapped in the midst of chaos, unable to continue advancing because of the fallen bodies of their own comrades and horses.

He kept riding at full speed, not daring to look to the sides.

Another volley of arrows fell upon them.

When Viserys realized it, he was practically alone, surrounded only by a few Dothraki who had somehow survived.

Behind him, the horde of warriors was forced to stop and divert through the flanks, as they could not pass over their own dead and dying.

The massacre continued.

This made Viserys slow down. He had hoped at least to be surrounded by Dothraki before getting close to the enemy, but the arrows kept falling, piercing even the sides where the Dothraki were escaping, through the left and right flanks.

Viserys, along with the other Dothraki around him, could see more and more corpses piling up in that vast area. He didn’t know exactly how many had fallen, but at least tens of thousands already lay on the ground.

His gaze turned to the enemy army. Not only him, but those around him—they all seemed even more terrified. He swallowed hard.

He had never imagined that this group would have five thousand giants capable of destroying thousands of enemies in open field, launching arrows at distances no man would ever dream of shooting… What kind of power was this? How could someone command thousands of giants? And where had they been hiding all this time?

Desperate thoughts raced through his mind. His family had never had access to such a group of people, who, from what he had heard, had been beyond the Wall the entire time. But he didn’t have time to think about it for long.

Viserys was exhausted and, purely by reflex, followed the crowd forming around him, which had finally managed to pass the line where the arrows had been falling. The giants had finally stopped shooting.

Khal Drogo was approaching, shouting at his men, after having also survived the bloodbath he had just witnessed.

He spoke a few words that Viserys didn’t understand, but it was clear that he was ordering everyone to advance.

In the next moment, the Dothraki quickly regrouped into a single charge. Viserys was dragged along once again. He could not escape.

He looked ahead, and his eyes widened. The enemy was also advancing toward them.

They were led by the man riding that colossal wolf monster—the Artican king. The same man who had beaten him before stealing his sister.

Another volley of arrows surged from the sky, rushing toward them. The Dothraki lost some momentum in their charge, while the Articans began closing in at full speed.

Soon, the warriors of Artica narrowed their formation, forming a perfect spearhead aimed directly at the Dothraki.

Leading the attack was none other than the Artican king himself. He was both mesmerizing and terrifying, advancing rapidly while his wolf growled fiercely.

All the horses seemed to sense fear. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

When they were finally about to clash, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, the Dothraki horses began losing control, creating a gap in the middle of their formation. The warriors looked around, confused and frightened.

In the next instant, the gigantic armored wolf passed by Viserys like a blur, charging straight into the Dothraki at the center of the formation.

The screams of terror began.

The Artican warriors advanced without hesitation. Dust rose all around Viserys, blinding him to what was happening, creating chaos for everyone as the dust cloud engulfed the entire battlefield.

Chaos consumed the battlefield.

The thousands of Articans kept advancing, cutting through the Dothraki like an unstoppable storm.

In the distance, Viserys could only hear the screams of rage and fear, the desperate neighing of horses, and the terrifying sound of the giant wolf’s growl.

It sounded like it was devouring some unfortunate soul.

Viserys was completely lost. Finally, he had a moment to stop his horse, trying to regain control. He used all his remaining strength to turn it, but all he could see was dust, screams, and the sound of metal clashing as enemy weapons collided with one another.

“I have to get out of here…” he murmured, having no sense of direction in the midst of that chaos.

He forced his horse forward, kicking desperately to try to get as far away as possible. He didn’t care about being a coward. The only thing he wanted was to be alive.

“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Viserys weakly shouted, trying to clear a path.

However, a Dothraki appeared, standing right in front of him. Before he could react, a horse emerged from the midst of the dust. Riding it was a man much smaller than the Dothraki, but his speed was astonishing.

The small warrior gave the enemy no chance. He lunged forward with a war hammer, striking the Dothraki’s head with a brutal blow, severing it from the neck.

Blood sprayed through the air, and Viserys was horrified by the scene as he watched the dwarf kill the Dothraki. Without thinking twice, he turned his horse and forced it to gallop even faster.

He rode past thousands of warriors fighting fiercely, desperately searching for the clearest paths. He avoided any place with a heavy concentration of enemies, as he did not want to be forced into combat.

His sword trembled in his hand.

He did not want to face any of those monsters. As he rode, his eyes darted quickly, observing the carnage around him.

The Dothraki fought against men in heavy armor but were mercilessly slaughtered. He also saw more of those small warriors, crushing the chests of fallen Dothraki with their heavy hammers.

The sound of bones breaking and blood splattering everywhere made him feel nauseous.

Viserys then noticed that some Dothraki were fighting against others of their own kind.

The only distinction was a white cloth or a flag tied to their arms, indicating they were fighting alongside the Articans.

He didn’t know how much time had passed as he continued moving through the dust cloud. All he could hear were death screams echoing from all sides for several minutes.

Until, suddenly, he felt his horse tremble violently.

An arrow had pierced the animal’s neck.

The impact was brutal. Viserys lost his balance and was thrown to the ground. His body hit the earth hard, and a scream of agony escaped his lips.

His world spun. His head struck the ground, momentarily knocking the air from his lungs.

Everything around him became a distant echo.

He tried to pull himself together, but the ground trembled beneath him as he felt immense pain in his leg.

“What… what is this?” he thought, feeling the terror grow.

He could not see clearly due to the dust covering the battlefield. He could only hear the deep rumble of the ground shaking abnormally.

Suddenly, a Dothraki approached him.

The man recognized him and shouted some furious words before trying to pull him up, as if attempting to drag him by force, but Viserys groaned in pain, his foot seemingly twisted beneath the horse.

Barely able to react, Viserys simply let himself be taken, groaning in agony.

He could see his horse, already dead beside him, the arrow still lodged in its neck.

But the trembling… the trembling continued.

Then, his eyes fell to the dusty ground.

Through the haze of dust, he saw gigantic silhouettes approaching behind the man pulling him.

And in that moment, he finally understood the cause of the tremors.

He could only see the man trying to pull him, unaware of the enormous figure emerging behind him.

The next moment, something much larger than a normal man lifted its weapon and swung.

Viserys could only watch as the Dothraki attempting to pull him was cleaved in half with a clean strike. The upper half of his body crashed to the ground, while his arms, still trying to grab him, remained for a few seconds before finally collapsing. The rest of the body stood for a brief instant before toppling over, spilling a sea of blood.

Guts and intestines fell onto Viserys, covering him in blood.

He screamed, terrified, and tried to get up quickly, but his legs trembled.

The giant approached him but did not seem to notice him.

Suddenly, he felt the ground shake beside him. One of the giant’s colossal feet stomped just inches from his head, nearly crushing his skull.

With his heart racing, he watched the monstrous being move forward.

More and more giants began crossing the battlefield.

The five thousand giants had finally joined the fight—and Viserys saw them as if they were titans walking around him, while he was nothing more than an ant.

“I have to get out of here…” he murmured, trying to stand up as best as his body allowed.

He started running, limping through the battlefield. His leg was injured from the fall, but his will to survive pumped enough adrenaline through his veins to keep pushing him forward through the chaos.

He needed to survive.

He didn’t know how far he had run, avoiding the fights around him. But the giants seemed to be everywhere. Whenever they emerged from the dust, the tremors in the earth announced them before they were even seen.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a horse rapidly approaching from behind.

He turned and widened his eyes as he saw a Dothraki galloping straight toward him.

The warrior, upon seeing him, likely thought he was an enemy.

Viserys had no time to react. The Dothraki charged with his spear extended, ready to impale him.

But before the rider could get close, a giant silhouette emerged from the dust.

A massive maw opened, and Viserys saw the Dothraki glance to the side—too late.

With a single motion, the giant wolf bit down, devouring both the warrior and his horse in one crushing bite.

The sound of bones snapping and flesh being torn filled the air.

Viserys fell backward, terrified, scrambling to get as far away as possible from the hellish creature.

“How goes the battle, my king?”

He heard a voice beside him.

“A true massacre. Now that the giants have arrived, there is no doubt about our victory.”

Viserys froze at the sound of that voice.

His gaze slowly turned to the figure speaking.

The Artican king stood there, alongside another woman clad in Valyrian armor.

The man who had destroyed his life.

The one who had stolen his sister and crushed his ambitions.

Rage quickly flared inside him.

He turned to a dead Dothraki lying on the ground and grabbed his weapon.

His eyes locked onto the Artican king, who stood at a distance, observing the battle, surrounded by his men. Viserys saw an opening, hesitating for just a second—he didn’t want to die either.

The giant wolf was nearby, hunting down other Dothraki, ensuring that no one could get close.

It seemed like no one had noticed him.

He saw no way out.

He was surrounded by enemies on all sides.

“If I could at least take him with me…”

Suddenly, he made a decision.

If he was going to fall, he would at least take with him the man who had caused all his suffering.

After all, everything had started when that bastard landed in Pentos and destroyed his plans.

Now, he would have his revenge and die for it.

Consumed by fury, Viserys stood up with newfound courage and began moving faster, even as his injured foot screamed in pain.

He did not stop.

All he wanted was to take that man down with him.

But before he could get any closer, a sword simply appeared before him.

He had no time to process what was happening before feeling the impact.

In the next instant, everything went dark.

The blade sliced through his neck so swiftly that he didn’t even feel it.

His severed head was flung far away as his body collapsed to the ground.

The Artican royal guard who had delivered the blow merely watched the scene with indifference.

“No one approaches my king.”

It was the golden rule of the royal guards. They protected Jon at any cost.

Around them, other guards held their positions, forming a perimeter around their king as he analyzed the battle. Ghost, at his side, continued tearing apart any enemy who dared approach on horseback.

Jon glanced briefly at Viserys’s fallen body.

The head lay on one side, the body on the other, motionless on the ground.

“He was your uncle…” Seryna couldn’t help but murmur, turning her gaze as Jon had already shared that Viserys would be on the battlefield as well.

“Don’t feel anything. I never considered him an equal, even though we shared the same blood,” Jon replied to his wife in a cold tone, his uncle’s death seeming to mean nothing to him.

Jon then turned to the royal guard who had delivered the killing blow. The guard met his gaze and responded, already knowing that Jon’s orders were to kill Viserys if he attempted anything.

“I didn’t want to let you kill him, my king. After all, they say killing kin brings bad luck,” the royal guard said, fully understanding the situation.

“It’s fine. You acted correctly,” Jon responded without any guilt.

Certainly, Viserys was one of the people he despised the most.

Perhaps Daenerys would feel something upon seeing his corpse, but not him.

It was obvious that Viserys had been feeding information to the Dothraki, providing details about the economy and the business dealings Jon conducted. It was no coincidence that Khal Drogo’s threat had directly targeted the cities where Jon traded.

Jon spun his sword in the air, cleaning the blood it had drawn when he arrived, before pointing it toward the battlefield.

“I found Khal Drogo! We will finally hunt him down in the midst of this chaos!”

He had been searching for the enemy leader, and he was finally spotted—now that the dust had blanketed the entire army, making it difficult to see even through their eagles and other birds in the sky.

Thus, he gave the command, as his giant wolf approached rapidly.

Jon mounted Ghost, followed closely by his elite riders and Seryna, who rode beside him.

“Follow me! I want you all to keep advancing wherever I lead Ghost! Protect every side and let no one get close!”

Jon ordered, and everyone immediately nodded.

Ghost shot forward, and the riders surrounded him, advancing like a storm of blood and steel across the battlefield.

The scene around them was a true massacre.

Fallen bodies covered the ground.

The stench of blood filled the air, mixed with the scent of sand.

The screams of men, the sound of weapons slicing through flesh, and steel clashing against steel were the only sounds that dominated this place.

Anyone who tried to approach the impenetrable formation was swiftly cut down by the spears and swords of the Artican royal guards.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Khal Drogo fought fiercely against an Artican warrior.

Despite the enemy’s heavy armor, Drogo managed to defeat him.

With a precise strike, he sent the foreign warrior crashing to the ground.

But just as he raised his sword to press forward, his horse suddenly froze.

“What is happening?” Khal Drogo murmured as his horse, unexpectedly, refused to advance.

The animal, which had been his companion for years—an extension of himself—was now restless. Something was wrong.

The horse neighed nervously, turning slightly to the side, as if sensing something. Drogo frowned and tried to force it to move forward, but suddenly, the animal stopped completely.

All it did was stare in a specific direction.

And then he heard the heavy footsteps—much faster than even those of the giants he had avoided facing.

Heavy steps, closing in on him.

In the next instant, a colossal shadow emerged from the thick dust.

His eyes widened in shock.

The armored giant wolf leaped out of the dense cloud, latching onto the neck of his horse before brutally dragging it to the ground.

Drogo was thrown down along with the beast, rolling across the bloodstained earth. His horse trembled before exhaling its last breath.

Khal Drogo growled in fury as he rose, but before he could react, his bloodriders were also taken by surprise.

Men clad in armor distinct from the common warriors emerged from the dust and charged at his men, cutting them down one by one without mercy.

He gritted his teeth and quickly prepared for battle. He wasn’t injured, but the sight of his dead horse and his warriors being slaughtered made his blood boil.

That was when he sensed a presence beside him.

Someone was approaching calmly.

Khal Drogo turned his head and saw the figure of the Artican king.

The man who had challenged him.

The one responsible for this entire war.

And now, he stood before him, sword in hand—Blackfyre.

“It’s time to end this, Khal Drogo. Do you seek death in the midst of war? Then that is what you shall have,” Jon spoke, his voice firm.

Khal Drogo did not utter a single word.

He simply charged.

With a furious roar, he raised his arakh and slashed toward Jon.

The Artican king reacted swiftly. His Blackfyre sword rose to parry the blow, and the clash of steel echoed across the battlefield.

Drogo did not back down. He struck again, trying to use his strength and speed to overwhelm the foreign king.

But he soon realized the harsh truth.

His opponent was fast. And strong. Far faster and stronger than he was.

Every strike Drogo delivered was deflected with precision, and Jon moved with terrifying agility, dodging and counterattacking with lethal precision.

Within seconds, Khal Drogo felt a sharp burning pain in his thigh.

He stumbled, feeling the strength in his leg begin to fade.

Jon moved in a way Drogo had never encountered before. His fighting style was unpredictable, swift, and deadly.

Drogo growled in pain, steadying himself on the ground to keep standing.

The battlefield around them seemed silent.

It was just him and the foreign king now.

None of his men dared to interfere.

But Khal Drogo would not fall so easily.

With a roar of pure fury, he forced his body to rise again and charged at Jon once more.

This time, he aimed for a precise strike.

However, before his blade could reach its target, another searing pain shot through his body.

His underarm was slashed.

The pain was immediate and paralyzing.

His arm lost all strength, and his arakh fell from his grip, hitting the dry earth.

A cluster of muscles, nerves, and blood vessels beneath his arm had been severed.

His arm would not move again.

Drogo panted, his breathing heavy. His dark eyes lifted to meet the gaze of the foreign king.

Jon simply stared at him.

“Well, it’s not like you had much of a chance from the start,” the Artican king finally broke the silence. He spoke in the Dothraki tongue, as if mocking him.

Khal Drogo could not reply.

In the next instant, he felt the blade pierce his neck.

Blackfyre sliced through his flesh with a clean, lethal cut.

His head was severed from his body in a single motion.

Khal Drogo’s head rolled across the ground, his wide eyes frozen in shock, while his lifeless body collapsed onto the bloodstained desert, his long braid now lying on the earth.

Jon let out a light sigh and raised his sword, wiping off the blood of the great Khal.

“Well… looks like it’s over.”

He murmured, surveying the battlefield around him.

Now, all that was left was to wait for his armies to finish destroying the last remaining Dothraki.

The threat of Khal Drogo had been ended—forever.

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 248 – First contact.

Chapter 253 – Free Folk vs Dead Army 02.

Chapter 263 – The Pact.

Chapter 272 – The Journey and Titles of the Arctican King up to This Moment.

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