Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 433 You have ambition—but do you have the ability?

Feiying's giant wings tore through the clouds, and it began to spiral downwards.

Below, the outline of Rema gradually became clear—it was no longer the familiar, bustling port city it once was. The towering city walls were covered with scorch marks and brand-new impact cracks, and a huge banner embroidered with a golden sea monster fluttered on the main castle tower, replacing the Queen's lily emblem.

The dragon did not land, but hovered several meters above the ground. The gale whipped up by its wings caused the guards and civil officials in the square to stagger and their clothes to become disheveled.

Youlun released his grip.

Haihan tumbled off the edge of the dragon's back like a discarded bundle, crashing heavily onto the cold stone slabs of the square. He rolled twice in a disheveled state, his official robes covered in dust, and lay on the ground coughing violently, as if all the bones in his body were broken.

He struggled to lift his head, and what came into view was a strange and desolate scene, as well as the terrified yet pitying gazes of the people around him.

Haihan didn't even have time to say a word, to ask about the Queen's whereabouts, or to defend himself.

Euron's indifferent voice came from above: "Wait here."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Fei Ying let out a deafening roar, his enormous wings flapping with all their might once more, stirring up a cloud of dust. In the instant that everyone instinctively closed their eyes or stepped back, the massive black shadow, carrying its master, soared into the sky, breaking through the clouds without hesitation, and transforming into a rapidly shrinking black dot.

The square was deathly silent, save for Haihan's heavy breathing and the sound of flags fluttering in the wind.

Euron Greyjoy, the newly crowned conqueror, didn't even glance at the city where he had just delivered his "goods," before riding his dragon toward the vast land of Turani in the northwest. Another shadow was about to fall over that unknown territory.

In the northwestern Turani fortress, the sturdy walls and the biting cold wind together shape the soul of this place.

Achim Arnold stood atop the city wall, like a war god sculpted from mountain rock. His eight-foot frame stood proudly upright, casting a shadow that seemed capable of swallowing an ordinary man. His broad shoulders and back could easily support a full suit of heavy armor, and his bulging muscles contained the power to shatter rocks with every breath.

The wind whipped his dark brown braids, the metal rings woven into them jingling—the nameplates of the enemy chieftains he had personally slain.

As the younger brother of Cicero Arnold, the Empress's principal husband, Achim not only inherited the glory of this illustrious name but also bore the heavy responsibility of guarding the northwestern gateway of the empire. He earned the reputation of "Lion of Turani" not through nepotism but through the blood-stained giant axe in his hand.

When the devastating news of the fall of Le Mar, the death of his brother Cicero, and the capture of the Queen reached Turani like a plague, Achim Arnold dismissed all his servants and stood alone on the highest terrace of the fortress, letting the north wind, like a knife, sweep across his resolute face.

Deep within his bronze eyes surged incredibly complex emotions. Worry and responsibility weighed heavily on his heart—for the fate of the empire, and for the woman he so desperately longed for. He slammed his fist against the cold battlement, stone chips rustling—

It fell softly.

"Assemble the army!" He turned to his generals, his voice like the clash of steel, filled with unwavering resolve. "All men who can wield a sword, all warhorses capable of traveling a hundred miles a day, assemble! We will reclaim Rema!"

Beneath this justifiable anger and worry, a dark, burning flame that had been suppressed for many years was now raging wildly deep within his soul.

Achim and Cicero, born of the same mother, were opposites of light and shadow from childhood. He hated his brother's perpetually composed and elegant demeanor, hated his empty title of "the greatest warrior of Rae Island," and hated even more that he could stand proudly beside the Queen as her husband.

Ashim loved that woman, who shone like a star, just as deeply, even more passionately and humbly.

Why? Why him, Cicero? This question gnawed at Achim like a venomous snake for countless days and nights.

Now, Cicero is dead, killed by Euron Greyjoy, the raider from the Iron Islands.

This news was like a key, instantly unlocking the cage in his heart that imprisoned his ambition and desire. Sadness? Perhaps a trace, but more than that, there was an almost trembling sense of relief and ecstasy.

"You lost, brother," Ashim whispered to the empty, howling wind, a cold, twisted smile uncontrollably curving his lips. "The empire you couldn't protect, I will protect. The empress you can no longer embrace—I will save her and possess her forever."

This is a crisis, but even more so, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A chance to elevate him from frontier commander to the pinnacle of power. If he can personally behead Euron, he can, as savior and avenger, step over the corpses of his enemies and rightfully enter Rey Ma's palace, replacing his dead brother, becoming the Queen's new husband, and the true ruler of this land!

Thinking of this, Ashim took a deep breath, the aura of pain, ambition, and desire seeming to make the surrounding cold wind feel scorching. He looked in Ray Ma's direction, his gaze more resolute and—greedy than ever before.

"Accelerate the assembly!" he roared again, his voice echoing across the land. "Target: Ray Ma! Let the blood of the raiders be a sacrifice to my brother's soul!"

A black dot suddenly appeared on the horizon.

It expanded and approached at an illogical speed, accompanied by a whooshing sound that tore through the air, and finally revealed the terrifying outline of the giant dragon "Flying Shadow" with its outstretched wings, which almost blocked out the sun above Turani.

Chaos erupted on and around the city walls, with terrified screams spreading like a plague. Soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, their legs trembling, and none dared to take a step forward.

The Flying Shadow did not land violently, but with a precision that was completely contrary to its enormous size, it slowly hovered at the same height as the watchtower where Ashim was. The huge dragon claw, carrying immense force, firmly gripped the stone bricks on the edge of the tower with a loud "boom," and rubble fell down, causing the entire tower to tremble slightly.

The dragon lowered its head, its vertical pupils, like molten gold, coldly staring at the tiny yet hostile human before it.

Euron Greyjoy leaped from the dragon's back, his black robes fluttering in the wind, yet he landed lightly and silently. He stood before Ashim, ignoring the tense atmosphere around them, his light shining directly on Ashim's battle-ready face, and asked with a smile, "The Raiders you speak of, are you referring to me?"

Achim's pupils contracted sharply, his blood seemingly boiling within him. He stared intently at the man before him—the man who had destroyed his home, killed his brother, yet had inadvertently paved the way for him. All his ambition, anger, and pent-up jealousy finally coalesced into a roar that erupted from the depths of his chest, like thunder exploding atop the city walls: "Euron Greyjoy—!"

The air seemed to freeze on the watchtower.

Euron asked, "Didn't you receive the Queen's letter?"

Upon hearing this, Ashim's face twisted into a ferocious grin, a mixture of anger and mockery. He gripped the handle of his massive axe behind his back, his muscles bulging. "Received! I'm preparing to lead my loyal men to wash away the shame of Thunder Island with the blood of you Ironborn!"

"It seems," Euron's voice remained calm, devoid of any emotion, "that you are not allowed to be banished."

"Surrender?" Ashim laughed as if he had heard the most ridiculous joke in the world, his arrogant laughter shaking the air. "Hahaha! I am the strongest warrior recognized on Thunder Island! The noblest blood of the Arnold family flows in my veins! What are you, that you dare to make me bow down?"

Euron simply shrugged indifferently and said calmly, "Then I'm sorry. It seems Turani needs a more sensible leader. You have ambition, but do you have the ability?"

Before the words were even finished, Ashim charged forward like a cannonball! He channeled all his strength into his arms, and the giant axe "Stonebreaker," which had drunk the blood of countless powerful warriors, whistled through the air as it came crashing down on Euron with the force of splitting mountains and cleaving rivers! This axe strike contained all his pride, anger, and ambition; he wanted to cleave the Iron Islands lord who had desecrated his homeland in two!

Faced with this ferocious attack that would terrify any ordinary warrior, Euron didn't even touch the sword at his waist. He merely raised his eyes slightly, his mind stirring subtly.

A bizarre change occurred instantly on his fists. A deep black color rapidly spread, not like paint, but more like an abyss itself that devoured all light. Armament Haki coiled around them as if alive, giving his fists a cold, metallic sheen.

In the next instant, fist and axe, flesh and steel, clashed violently!

"clang--!"

A deafening metallic explosion rang out, and the shockwave spread outward from the two people, kicking up dust and smoke!

Achim's axe strike, which he was certain of landing, was firmly blocked by that dark fist, unable to advance an inch! The recoil from the axe blade made his hand go numb, and the arrogance on his face instantly froze, turning into incredulous horror.

How...how is this possible?!

Just as his old strength was exhausted and new strength had not yet arisen, Euron moved. He was so fast that he was left as a blur. The black fist that had blocked the giant axe transformed into a palm, and like a black lightning bolt, it precisely gripped Ashim's throat!

The terrifying grip instantly robbed Ashim of his breath, his massive body was easily lifted off the ground, and the giant axe crashed to the ground with a clang.

He struggled in vain, his eyes filled with shock, anger, and fear as he stared into Euron's unfathomable pupils.

"Uh—you—"

There were no extra words, not even a trace of emotional fluctuation.

A burst of blazing, orange-red flame erupted from Euron's palm, instantly engulfing Ashim's head and then spreading throughout his body!

The agonizing roar lasted only half a second before abruptly ceasing. Flames raged violently, the stench of charred flesh filling the air. In the blink of an eye, the once-fierce strongest warrior of Thunder Island was reduced to a charred, twisted, and unrecognizable corpse.

Youlun released his grip.

The pitch-black corpse crashed heavily onto the cold stone ground with a dull thud, shattering into several shapeless pieces of charred remains.

The watchtower was deathly silent. The only sounds were the wind whistling through the ruins and the suppressed gasps of soldiers in the distance.

The charred remains of Achim smoldered on the stone ground of the watchtower, wisps of smoke rising, and the silence of death enveloped the entire city wall.

It was in this deathly silence that Euron Greyjoy's power truly began to unfold.

An invisible current of air swirled and condensed rapidly beneath Euron's feet, transforming into the translucent giant outline of the wind element "Berova." It let out a low groan, and a powerful updraft steadily lifted Euron up, suspending him in mid-air, his black robes fluttering in the wind.

The lightning elemental "Thor" answered the call, countless tiny arcs of electricity shooting out from the void like living things, wrapping around his arms and torso with a chilling "sizzling" sound. Dazzling blue-white lightning danced between his fingers, reflecting a destructive light in his deep eyes, as if he could summon thunder from the heavens with a mere gesture.

Scorching flames suddenly ignited around Euron, the crimson-gold flames of the element "Apollo" swirling and rising around him like gentle ribbons. The extreme heat distorted the surrounding air, making him appear like a god emerging from the core of the sun.

The wind carries its body, thunder encircles its arms, and fire clings to its form!

The three elements merged perfectly, forming an energy field that was impossible to look at directly and impossible to resist. At this moment, Euron was no longer a warrior or pirate of the mortal world. He hovered above the ruins and charred corpses, surrounded by crackling lightning and flames, like a god who controlled storms and flames, descending to the mortal world with absolute majesty and destructive power.

Euron's icy gaze swept over every pale-faced guard below. Wherever his gaze fell, no one dared meet his eyes; their knees buckled, and weapons slipped from their hands. He delivered his final verdict: "Surrender, or die."