Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 176 The Red Woman – A Prophecy from A Song of Ice and Fire

In the afternoon, the sound of sharp blades cutting through the air echoed across the axe-throwing arena.

Baron Greyjoy, with his innate Ironborn ferocity and masterful control of his throwing axes, successfully defeated his opponent and advanced to the next round.

After the axe-throwing competition, the individual duels began.

Euron's opponent in this round is quite special—a female warrior known as "White Deer," Wenda.

She is known for her astonishing speed and agility, her figure darting across the field like a leaping forest sprite, her longsword wielded with precision and swiftness.

However, Euron was faster.

In the instant after Wenda made her move, he exerted force with his feet and used the [Naval Six Styles - Shave]. His figure left a ghostly afterimage, and everyone only saw a blur before he appeared behind Wenda in an instant.

Before she could react, Euron's arm gripped her like steel, and using the power techniques of [Fishman Karate], he swung her around—Winda felt an irresistible force coming at her, and she was thrown out of the designated competition area like a kite with a broken string, losing the match decisively.

"White Deer" Wenda was not grateful for Euron's leniency. She glared at Euron fiercely, spat on the ground, and walked away angrily!

As night fell, torches once again illuminated Harrenhal as bright as day, and an even more bloody and chaotic duel between the seven factions then commenced.

Among the many hastily assembled teams, the Golden Company from Essos displayed remarkable professionalism.

These seasoned, disciplined, and highly skilled mercenaries stood firm like rocks in the chaos of battle. Their seamless teamwork and organized offense and defense contrasted sharply with the scattered, disorganized groups around them. After a fierce and brutal fight, they emerged as the undisputed victors of the night, their performance nothing short of spectacular.

The day's fierce competition has finally come to an end.

When Euron returned to the Iron Islands camp, covered in dust and exhausted, his brother Balon, who was running into him, didn't shout as usual. Instead, Balon had a strange expression on his face, blinked hard at him, and gave him a cryptic smile.

Euron initially failed to grasp the meaning of this strange implication, assuming that Baron was just acting strangely again. With some doubt, he walked through the noisy camp and went straight back to his quarters.

However, when he pushed open the door, the sight before him made him stop abruptly—the mysterious red-robed priestess Gwendolyn had silently appeared in his room.

She stood silently in the shadows, her fiery red robes like congealed blood, clashing with the somber hues of the Iron Islands.

Euron was stunned for a moment, a strange sense of astonishment welling up inside him.

Why did the Red Priestess Gwendolyn suddenly appear in Harrenhal, and why did she specifically appear in his room?

Euron quickly suppressed his inner turmoil, a nonchalant smile appearing on his face. He asked in a flippant tone, "What's wrong? Have I been gone too long, making you unable to suppress your longing and travel all this way to get here?"

The red priestess Gwendolyn remained unmoved by his teasing. Her eyes, which seemed to see through both flames and shadows, stared intently at Euron, her voice low and ethereal, carrying an undeniable certainty: "It is the Lord of Light's call. It showed me the path in the flames, telling me that coming here would witness a turning point in destiny, to see—a sight unlike any other."

Euron's smile froze slightly: "————"

Gwendolyn gently removed her bright red robe, revealing her flawless figure. She approached Euron with light steps, her warm arms encircling his neck like vines, her breath brushing against his ear: "Let us plunge into the flames together—to witness the will revealed by the Lord of Light."

Euron felt her fiery heat, as if it were melting him completely. He chuckled softly, his voice slightly hoarse: "I would be quite willing—to receive the Lord of Light's teachings every day."

Euron entered an even hotter depth within that fiery heat—

In a state of indescribable heat and trance, Euron's consciousness seemed to detach from his body and be swept into a vortex of leaping light and shadow.

His soul seemed to transform into a hazy light, hand in hand with Gwendolyn's spirit, crossing an invisible barrier and arriving in a realm never before explored.

They floated in a void, and before them appeared a breathtaking sight—a colossal throne forged from countless twisted, charred, and broken sword blades: the Iron Throne.

Seated on the throne was a dignified old man, Jaehaerys Targaryen II, Aerys Targaryen's father.

Kneeling beneath the throne, listening with utmost respect, was a young Aerys Targaryen.

Jaehaerys II's voice was solemn and dignified, each word carrying immense weight, imprinted on the void: "Aegon I the Conqueror did not conquer Westeros purely for power. What drove him was a dream—a terrible dream of the White Walkers, a great threat from the far north, from the eternal winter."

His gaze was piercing as he stared at his successor: "He firmly believes that only by unifying the Seven Kingdoms, under the true dragon bloodline and the leadership of our Targaryen family, can all of humanity unite to resist this inevitable apocalyptic catastrophe."

He called this dream and prophecy that runs through history "A Song of Ice and Fire."

"The prophecy foretells that in the future, a descendant of dragon blood will emerge, who will unite the powers of ice and fire and end the darkness."

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"This prophecy and Aegon's dream have been passed down through generations within our royal family, usually only to the king and the designated crown prince. All the monarchs who have known of this have firmly believed that the prophesied end times will come during their own reign or the reign of the next generation. Therefore, we must always be prepared and never let our guard down."

"Today, I entrust to you the truth and the weighty responsibility of A Song of Ice and Fire. Likewise, you must instruct your successors to convey it."

"Passed down from generation to generation, remember this well—"

These weighty words, like a resounding bell, echoed endlessly in the depths of Euron's soul.

All the images were like crystal, flames burning the entire world, the crystal constantly shattering, breaking into pieces—

Amidst the shattered, flickering illusion of flames, the scene abruptly shifts, like turning a page of a book steeped in the dust of history.

Euron was suddenly confronted with another scene:

A procession marched along the Kingsroad, led by a tall steed, his expression proud and his brow showing early signs of fanaticism, but more than anything, the majesty and confidence of a king. That was the middle-aged Aerys Targaryen, who had been crowned king and became Aerys II.

Behind him followed a Royal Guard in a pure white cloak and dozens of elite Royal Guard soldiers, their armor gleaming and banners waving.

The direction they were heading was none other than—Dusk Valley Town.

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