"Immortals... you granted our wish, teaching us the spells of Ancient Valyria. Now you must satisfy our... our... our need." Countless low voices echoed mockingly, merging into a single chorus accompanied by the powerful *thump-thump* of a decaying heart. "I need your body. After a thousand years of waiting, I've finally found you—ah—"
The Immortals' triumphant whisper twisted into a piercing scream as dark red Dragonflame, billowing like a fire hose, doused the Immortals' soaring ambition.
Bathed in the inferno, feeling the heat scorch her skin, Daenerys' heart resumed its frantic beat. The ghostly hands and feet that had been gripping her vanished in an instant.
The "zombies" crackled and burned in the Dragonflame. Their blue, withered skin ignited like oil-soaked paper, their bones melting like candles in the intense heat.
They stumbled and writhed, their voices, long gone, now thin, high-pitched cries like the finest strands of cow hair.
Ignoring the illusory spectacle before her, Daenerys strode toward the center of the long, stone table.
She passed through them, light as gas, illusory as a dream—they scattered at her touch.
Approaching the black heart dripping with blue blood, Daenerys shouted, "Big Black!"
*Screech—* The Black Dragon's long neck shot out like lightning, seizing the rotting flesh on the stone table in its jaws.
Seeing him about to tear it apart and discard it, Daenerys called out, "Eat it! This is a God—the collective consciousness of countless Immortals over millennia, the God of Qarthian Warlocks!"
*Screech—* Big Black, still holding the heart that throbbed like a drum, turned to her in confusion.
"I know you can't digest it, but I can help you," Daenerys said, her eyes glowing with determined light. "Swallow it, then burn it with Dragonflame."
The Black Dragon tilted his head, swallowed the entire mass of rotting flesh, and then—*BOOM—*
A torrent of Dragonflame erupted from his mouth like a rocket, blasting through the ceiling and revealing the daylight outside.
**Bloodline Talent: Dragon Incubation**
*By imbuing dragon eggs with flame and spiritual essence, this ability allows fossilized dragon eggs (which retain their soul essence), dead dragon eggs, and healthy dragon eggs to hatch into young dragons.*
As a mortal, Daenerys perceived the room through her normal senses. Everything she saw was an illusion—countless desiccated corpses swarming her, gnawing at her flesh.
But when she entered the Dragon Spirit State, seeing the world through the eyes of the Black Dragon, she perceived something more fundamental. From the black heart, countless blue tendrils emerged, each a stretched-out Immortal. They roared and surged toward her, wrapping around her like an octopus's arms, draining her body of vitality, spirit, and even her soul.
In this state, Daenerys also saw that the black heart was brimming with vast spiritual essence. Even though it wasn't a True God, and the Great Mages of Valyria had dismissed it as "trash," it was clearly a Faith Spirit—though Daenerys still didn't fully understand what a Faith Spirit was.
Perhaps due to the Supreme Treasure in her mind, or perhaps because she had often subjected herself to self-immolation, she had, at some point, gained the ability to actively guide spiritual essence from the natural world toward the dragon eggs.
Now, she discovered that if the spiritual essence density was high enough, even living dragons could be infused with it.
The black heart's spiritual essence was too dense to waste. It would be better to use it to upgrade her Big Black.
The decaying heart burned in the Dragonflame, and large clusters of colorful, fluorescent specks scattered from the ruptured organ, as if returning to nature.
But as "Daenerys" opened her mouth and inhaled deeply, the lake of scattered "fireflies" collapsed downward like a drained swimming pool, forming a funnel-shaped vortex. At the bottom of this vortex lay Big Black's gaping maw.
In the Dragon Spirit State, Daenerys and the Black Dragon shared a single soul, a single body, and a dragon form.
In reality, Daenerys seemed to be closing her eyes in deep contemplation, ignoring the collapsing rubble and the spreading flames all around her. Big Black stood blankly, his head tilted back, Dragonflame burning in his mouth like a torch carved from dragon-shaped stone.
After more than ten minutes, the sparse, colorful light particles, ignoring Daenerys's attempts to absorb them, continued to disperse in all directions. Their density had become too low for further absorption.
Daenerys snapped out of her trance, awakening from the peculiar state. She removed the scorched backpack from her shoulders, stripped away the tattered cloth, leaving only a palm-sized metal plate hanging over her chest.
This Valyrian Dragon King identity token, found in the Red Waste, she had deliberately taken and tucked into the inner pocket over her heart, using it as a breastplate.
With her medical skills, she might have been able to save herself from a sword wound elsewhere, but if her heart were pierced, not even a God could save her!
In this world, there was almost nothing harder than Valyrian steel.
"Let's go, Big Black," Daenerys said, beckoning to the Black Dragon standing on the stone table.
Exiting the room of the Immortals, a dark passage snaked before her. The only light source was the hissing fire serpent behind her.
Daenerys looked around and saw many corpses sprawled haphazardly in the corridor. Some wore opulent robes, while others appeared to be slaves. There were also the distinctive robes of the Qarthians and the clothing of outsiders.
They seemed to have struggled to escape, only to be drained of their souls and collapse lifelessly to the ground.
Daenerys recalled the terrifying legends of the House of the Undying: many had entered the Hall of Dust, but none had ever emerged.
She also remembered Great Warlock Pyat Pree's attitude toward the Warlock's Sanctuary: he treated it with deep reverence and never dared to enter with Daenerys.
Finally, Daenerys recalled the Great Mage's words and murmured, "The True Dragon Blood of Ancient Valyria inspires both awe and the covetous ambition of sorcerers."
The corpses were emaciated, their souls and vitality drained away. The desiccated remains hadn't decayed, except for a few that had crumbled into brittle dust over the years. A small amount of clothing remained intact.
Daenerys chose a golden-threaded robe, wrapped herself in it, and then ran down the corridor, with Big Black leading the way and her following behind.
Unlike the hours it had taken her to arrive, she reached a door in just half an hour. Sunlight streamed through from the outside.
Stepping through, she was once again bathed in warm sunlight and a breeze carrying the fragrance of flowers and grass.
"You destroyed the House of the Undying!" Great Warlock Pyat Pree roared at Daenerys, his voice thick with fury.
"It wasn't me—it was the Immortals' own choice!" The lie sprang from her lips almost without thought. "They said they'd waited a thousand years for me, grown weary of their immortal yet tedious mortal lives. After seeing me, they self-immolated their withered bodies and ascended to the Astral Realm."
The situation was precarious. Perhaps without the Immortals' magical support, the decaying structure was now collapsing like a house of cards, centered on the Chamber of the Black Heart. Stone walls toppled, wooden beams and floorboards crackled and burned with the speed of gasoline, the flames spreading with terrifying speed.
The House of the Undying stood within the city, and nearby districts were densely populated. A thick cloud of black smoke now drew a crowd of Qarthians, while a small contingent of camel cavalry maintained order near Blackwood Grove.
If Pyat Pree had been alone, Daenerys would likely have ordered the Bloodriders to behead him right in front of Xaro.
But in the public square, she couldn't retaliate against the warlock. Instead, she had to pin the blame for burning the House of the Undying on the dead Immortals.
"You're lying! It was your dragon's fire that burned the Warlock's Sanctuary!"
The male warlock lunged at Daenerys, his arms flailing, but two burly black men immediately restrained him. They were servants of the great merchant Xaro, and had moved to intervene at his signal.
The centaur beside Daenerys had already drawn his gleaming arakh, and Xaro, as the host responsible for his guest's safety, wanted to prevent the warlock from being killed in self-defense by Daenerys.
"Let me go! I'll kill that bitch!" Pyat Pree dangled in mid-air, his short legs kicking frantically like a bicycle.
A faint smile touched Daenerys's lips as the tension in her nerves suddenly eased. She saw that while Pyat Pree was shouting threats and curses at her, his hand had slipped to his waist and drawn a dagger.
*So, he truly intended to kill her.*
Yet he made no magical attack. Instead, he held the dagger, preparing to stab her.
"I'm telling the truth," Daenerys said, activating her "Melancholy Maiden" buff. "If it were a dragon, why would the fire have spread so quickly?
You all saw it yourselves: the dragon flew through the passage while I ran behind, and the flames were still far behind us.
Only magic could have caused such a fire. And everyone knows I don't know magic."
"The Khaleesi is no sorceress; everyone knows that," Aggo nodded, his expression unusually serious.
"If Dragonflame had ignited the houses, the fire would have spread in a straight line, following the dragon's flight path. This contradicts the facts," Jorah argued, his reasoning sound and well-supported.
His words carried weight, and the scales of trust in the hearts of Xaro and the camel cavalry gradually tilted toward Daenerys.
"You..." Pyat Pree glared venomously at Daenerys, no longer sensing the Immortals' presence.
Daenerys had emerged alive, while the Immortals had vanished.
The conclusion was obvious: the Immortals' plan had failed. But how?
Daenerys couldn't even cast a magic spell, leaving Pyat Pree both shocked and suspicious, and deeply fearful.
"What did you do? Why would the Immortals burn the House of the Undying?" he demanded loudly.
"You still don't know what I did? I sought wisdom from the Immortals!" Daenerys declared confidently, gesturing at the rows of collapsing houses in the thick smoke. "Isn't it obvious? The Qarthians call this place the Hall of Dust. Now that the Immortals have ascended to the Astral Realm, this place naturally needs to be torn down.
Even if we don't build a new 'True House of the Undying,' we could clear the land for real estate development. It's such a waste to let this vast plot of land sit idle!"
"Real estate development?"
The Great Warlock Pyat Pree was nearly vomiting from her audacity.
Frustrated, he demanded, "What is the Astral Realm?"
A flicker of disdain crossed Daenerys's face before she replied haughtily, "Remember, this is the great wisdom of the Immortals. Gods and men dwell in different realms. We are in the Mortal Realm, while the gods reside in the higher dimensional spirit realm—the Astral Realm.
Mortals can only gaze upon the Astral Realm, but to communicate with its divine beings, one must rely on devout faith.
Great Warlock Pyat Pree, the time has come to test your faith. If you revere the Immortals as gods, you will likely contact them soon. If..."
*If you fail to contact them, it means your faith is insufficient. Since you lack devotion to the Immortals, don't use the excuse of avenging them to trouble me further.*
To Daenerys's surprise and triumph, most of the crowd reacted with expressions of understanding. Even the cunning Xaro and the skeptical Jorah, who distrusted "false gods," looked hesitant. Everyone knew Daenerys was a novice in occult matters. The fact that she could articulate such a logical explanation of divine mysteries must mean someone taught her.
Who taught her?
The Immortals, of course!
"Let's go!" Daenerys waved to her followers. *After showing off, it's time to make a quick exit.*
(End of Chapter)