Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 171 The Second Sons Group - Melo

The Mad King Aerys II coldly watched the corpse of Amon Frey lying in the dust. The man's throat was pierced by the broken spear shaft, and blood gushed from his mouth with his final spasms, making a horrifying gurgling sound.

The king's face showed no pity, but rather extreme contempt. He let out a sharp, cold snort: "Useless! You couldn't even beat an eleven-year-old child. Your death would have been in vain!"

These cold and ruthless words reached clearly into the ears of "Fearless" Barristan beside him.

The old knight frowned, and had to turn slightly to the side, admonishing in a low voice, as respectful as possible yet firm, "Your Majesty, please be careful with your words!"

Iris seemed to realize his lapse in composure. He glared at Barristan, but ultimately gave a cold snort of extreme displeasure and fell silent.

The venue was quickly cleared, and the next match was about to begin.

This time, the highly anticipated Prince Rhaegar Targaryen is making his appearance. His opponent is Ser Bruce Bookler.

Prince Rhaegar's victory was clean, decisive, and even elegant. After the first round of probing, in the second round, his lance struck Sir Bruce's breastplate with a precise and impeccable arc, cleanly and decisively throwing him off his horse. The entire process was fluid and without suspense.

Upon seeing Prince Rhaegar's victory, Lyanna Stark in the stands almost instantly jumped up, clapping and cheering wildly, her little face radiating pure excitement and adoration, a passion more intense than ever before.

Eddard Stark, engrossed in watching the match, didn't immediately notice his sister's unusual behavior.

But Benjen, Lyanna's younger brother who had always watched over her like a loyal puppy, immediately noticed this unusual scene.

He turned his head, his face full of suspicion, staring at his overjoyed sister, thinking to himself, "Seriously, sister? You weren't this excited when your fiancé Robert won, were you? Why are you so happy that Prince Rhaegar won?"

In the afternoon, the sun grew increasingly intense, and the arena outside Hellenburg changed its competition format.

On the archery range, the target was already set up a hundred paces away. The rules for the first round were simple: within the drawn lines—

Afterwards, each archer fires ten arrows, and based on the total score, half of the participants are eliminated.

The air was thick with the tension of taut bowstrings and a breathtaking silence, broken only by the sharp whistling of arrows piercing the air and the muffled thud of arrows hitting the bullseye. Noble archers and skilled commoners competed side by side, sweat trickling down their brows.

Euron's gaze had been casually sweeping across the contestants when one figure caught his attention. It was a young man from the valley named Adrian, a commoner hunter. He wore simple linen clothing, a stark contrast to the well-equipped noble archers around him.

However, when he drew his bow and nocked an arrow, all the differences seemed to disappear. His movements were steady and practiced, as natural as breathing, carrying the precision and calmness unique to a mountain hunter.

The first arrow whizzed past and hit the red bullseye.

whoosh-

The second arrow tore through the fletching of the first arrow and, like before, embedded itself firmly in the center.

The third arrow, the fourth arrow—and so on until the tenth arrow!

Ten strings resounded, piercing the air ten times.

In the end, ten arrows were densely embedded in the bullseye of his simple target, and not one of them missed the target or deviated from the center!

All ten arrows hit the bullseye.

His astonishing performance drew a chorus of barely suppressed gasps of amazement from those around him. This civilian hunter named Adrian had stunned the entire arena in the very first round with his undeniable skill.

Euron's eyes flashed with a sharp light after witnessing the astonishing sight of ten arrows piercing the heart. Almost without hesitation, he turned to his silent, loyal servant Dagmore and whispered, "Go, investigate that hunter from the Valley, Adrian, thoroughly. Find out his origins, the more detailed the better."

His fingers unconsciously traced the hilt of his sword as he continued, "If his identity is clear and there are no problems, then on behalf of the Greyjoy family, extend an offer to recruit him. Such talent should not be buried in the mountains."

However, it was clear that Euron was not alone in sharing this sentiment among the nobles and envoys. When Dagmer received his orders and hurried through the crowd toward the commoner hunter who had just laid down his longbow, he found Adrian already surrounded by a large group of people.

The stewards and servants of various families, and even some minor nobles themselves, crowded around Adrian, offering tempting terms: a generous golden dragon reward, a spacious mansion, and the title of captain of the guard.

Even a small fiefdom—promises of high-ranking positions and generous rewards were constantly being made, all in an attempt to bring this dark horse that had suddenly emerged into their fold.

Dagmer could only stop and look at Adrian, who was surrounded in the center and seemed a little lost, through the noisy crowd. Then he turned back and glanced at Euron helplessly.

Before the archery competition had even faded, the arena was quickly cleared for the more intense and bloody one-on-one duels.

According to the schedule, Euron has two matches today. His first opponent is a warrior from Dorne who wields a long desert spear.

However, when the Dornish warrior stepped onto the field and saw Euron Greyjoy standing opposite him, he did not adopt any offensive stance. Instead, to everyone's surprise, he slammed the end of his spear heavily into the ground.

He faced Euron, placed his right hand on his chest, bowed slightly, and then loudly announced to the referee, "I concede."

Amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd, he walked straight to Euron, smiled helplessly, and explained in Common Tongue with a Dornish accent, "There's no need to fight again. I challenged you on the sands of Dorne, and I was already thoroughly defeated then." There was no resentment in his eyes, only a frank acceptance of the past outcome. "Fighting again now is meaningless; it would only be a repetition of the past. Let's save our energy."

After saying this, he nodded to Euron again, then turned and left the arena decisively. The duel had been decided before it even began.

Euron's second singles duel has begun.

Euron once again stepped onto the battlefield. This time, his opponent was Melo of the "Second Sons" mercenary group, a notorious figure known for his brutality and Braavos background, nicknamed "The Titan's Bastard." He was exceptionally tall, with a cruel glint in his pale green eyes, and a thick, waist-length red-gold beard that added to his savage and ferocious appearance. His infamy was so widespread that the Second Sons, under his command, could barely secure any decent employment contracts.

Melo's eyes were like those of a bloodthirsty beast, fixed on Euron, a sinister grin spreading across his lips, making no attempt to conceal the dangerous aura emanating from him.

The two approached each other in the center of the arena, their weapons not yet raised, yet an invisible killing intent already clashed.

Euron keenly sensed the killing intent that far exceeded the scope of a martial arts match. He frowned and said coldly, "You're not thinking about winning the match, you're thinking about taking my life."

Melo spat and said in a low voice without any hesitation, "Someone has paid a fortune for your head from the Iron Islands!"

"Then let's give it a try." Euron's voice was calm and even, yet more threatening than any roar.

Melo roared as he launched his attack, wielding a massive, two-handed scimitar with terrifying force, each strike accompanied by a piercing, tearing sound. However, Euron did not choose to meet the attack head-on. His movements were like a ghost, his longsword clashing with the giant blade only to separate instantly, skillfully deflecting the terrifying power. Melo felt as if his blows were striking empty air or cotton, utterly powerless, which only fueled his rage.

Dozens of exchanges passed in the blink of an eye. Just as Melo's attacks faltered and his strength began to wane, a barely perceptible yet deadly wisp of dark blue lightning suddenly shot up from the seemingly ordinary longsword in Euron's hand!

Soul-Soul Fruit - Thundercloud: Thor - Attached to the sword!

Melo's massive body shuddered violently, and a sudden, intense numbness briefly swept over his arms and torso, causing a fatal freeze in his movements.

This brief opening was enough for Euron.

His twin swords flashed out like venomous snakes emerging from their holes, slashing out in a crisscrossing pattern!

With a flash of light, the tough leather armor on Melo's chest was easily and completely cleaved open, revealing a huge, grotesque cross-shaped wound on his chest.

He looked down in disbelief, then let out a horrific scream as his wound ruptured, and his intestines and other internal organs gushed out uncontrollably, a truly horrifying sight.

Euron had only one response: He deserved to die!