BOOM!
Just as the Cannibal struggled to push itself upright, another searing blast of dragonfire slammed down from above.
Following the principle of "press the advantage and never let the enemy recover," Gaemon had already wheeled Bahamut around the instant the black dragon hit the ground—ready to deliver the finishing blow.
The timing was perfect. The second strike drove the Cannibal straight back into the dirt, flattening it completely.
Because of the massive size difference, Gaemon had never planned a close-quarters brawl. Even with his magic boosting Bahamut, the Cannibal's sheer bulk could crush them in melee.
But dragonfire was an entirely different weapon. With Gaemon pouring his sorcerous power into every breath, Bahamut's flames had become devastating—matching or even overpowering the Cannibal's during their earlier clash.
After years of studying dragons up close, Gaemon understood their fighting style perfectly. Dragons were the ultimate beasts: stronger, faster, and far deadlier than any ordinary creature. Their two primary weapons were their fire breath and the raw physical power of their ever-growing bodies.
Age decided everything. The older the dragon, the thicker its scales, the hotter its flame, the sharper its claws.
The Cannibal's scales were legendary, but nothing could withstand Gaemon's magically amplified fire once he'd caught it off-guard.
Now the black dragon lay sprawled and vulnerable.
Gaemon struck again.
From high above, Bahamut opened his jaws and unleashed a roaring torrent of silver-gold flame straight onto the Cannibal's head.
The impact was catastrophic. The reinforced blast exploded across the black dragon's skull, cracking scales and sending bone spikes flying. The Cannibal's body convulsed once, then went limp.
Gaemon didn't kill it.
Targaryen dragons were still too few, and the family was in a "more dragons than riders" situation. A fully grown adult like the Cannibal was priceless—something even the old Valyrian dragonlord houses would have treasured.
But mercy did not mean forgiveness.
Sitting atop Bahamut, Gaemon formed the hand seals and began the chant of blood magic:
"By the blood of dragonlords as pact,
by the crimson moon's eye as witness,
we bow at the edge of the abyss,
awakening the ancient hunger that rejects no offering.
Life's flow becomes the whip of thorns;
pain's whisper condenses into the blade of crimson crystal.
The enemy's blood boils like molten gold;
the price of the pact is paid with eternity.
The red river rises, binding the foe in a web of life threads,
until the last drop of sweet dew is offered to the Blood Sovereign—
Blood debt paid in blood. The moment has come!"
As the ancient words rang out, the Cannibal began to convulse violently. Blood-red threads of light erupted from every wound, streaming upward like living rivers toward Gaemon's outstretched hands.
The more the spell intensified, the more threads appeared, draining the black dragon's very life essence.
When the final syllable left Gaemon's lips, the glowing threads snapped free and coalesced between his palms into a single, pulsating blood-red pearl.
Gaemon caught the orb in his right hand and whistled softly.
"I didn't expect the Cannibal to carry so much blood essence. With this… even Balerion might still be saved."
He had never intended to let the black dragon off lightly after its ambush. Following the principle of "spare the life, but punish without mercy," he had used the Blood Source Technique.
The spell extracts life force from a willing, helpless, or dying creature. Absorbing it grants equal vitality, but the mismatched energies cause nausea and violent impulses. Excessive use can mutate the body or twist the mind.
Gaemon rarely touched it, saving it only for the most desperate moments. This was the first time he had truly unleashed it.
The result spoke for itself.
The once-mighty Cannibal now looked like a skeleton wrapped in loose gray skin. Its massive sixty-meter body had shrunk dramatically. Its once-glossy obsidian scales had turned dull and ashen, robbed of all luster.
Gaemon nodded in satisfaction, then projected a stern mental warning directly into the black dragon's mind:
"This is only a small punishment. From now on, you are forbidden from randomly attacking humans on this island, or hunting young dragons and stealing eggs. If I catch you again, I will drain every last drop of your blood and fire."
The near-dead Cannibal weakly cracked open its green eyes. Its jaws twitched in a faint, submissive acknowledgment.
Just then, two thunderous roars echoed from the direction of the Dragonpit on Dragonstone.
Gaemon glanced toward the sound and smiled faintly. His brothers must have heard the battle and were coming to help—riding Aemon's Caraxes and Baelon's Vhagar.
He shot the collapsed Cannibal one final, icy glare.
All this chaos because of this one stupid beast.
The duel was over.
The Cannibal had survived… but it would never forget this day.