Under the silver moonlight, Viserys's silver short hair and purple eyes sparkled until he fastened his helmet.
His black armor was as dark as smoke, and his black cloak was embroidered with the three-headed red dragon sigil.
Viserys hid his soldiers on the back side of the hills, avoiding observation from the Tyrosh encampment below.
The Tyroshi had grown accustomed to doing as they pleased, completely neglecting their defenses.
Perhaps they believed the Andals were weaklings, and any rare acts of vengeance would be inconsequential.
Viserys felt like a leopard, waiting for the optimal moment to hunt.
The soldiers had already heard it—the clamor of the Tyroshi, the wailing of local Andal women, the prayers of boys and girls—it was an immense humiliation.
Many Andal soldiers were already seething with rage, ready to attack the camp of the Tyroshi slavers at any moment.
"Those who move without order will be severely punished," Viserys commanded concisely and powerfully. Everything was for the moment of a decisive strike; mercy has no place in warfare.
When the Hour of the Wolf finally arrived, the darkest moment of the day.
When even the sentries on the Tyroshi watchtowers grew weary, Viserys knew the moment for war had come.
Viserys felt his blood burning; he craved slaughter and battle.
There would be no better opportunity for this attack.
"Kill!" Viserys brandished the longsword in his hand.
The scorching flames of war ignited instantly, and a three-dimensional attack unfolded.
First, the infantry of the hundred-man company, armed with crossbows, stealthily approached the watchtowers and shot down the Tyroshi sentries with their crossbows.
Crossbows were specifically for sneak attacks, not suitable for long-distance assaults, but perfect for finishing blows.
Then, the other infantry moved according to Viserys's command, together pushing down the wooden palisades of the Tyroshi camp; the palisades fell to the ground with a heavy crash.
"Kill the Tyroshi!"
"Kill the Tyroshi!" The soldiers' roars echoed throughout the entire camp. The infantry attacked from two sides, while Viserys's thirty cavalry charged as vanguards, like dragons and tigers.
Viserys wielded his silver longsword; at this moment, he truly seemed like a Warrior descended to the mortal realm, the very essence of the Warrior embodied within him.
The Tyroshi were still too easy to recognize; these people particularly loved vibrant colors, dyeing their hair and beards in bright hues, including blue, green, chestnut, pink, purple, scarlet, and vermilion.
"Enemy attack!"
"Enemy attack!" The Tyroshi shouted in a panic.
"Is it a dragon?"
"A fearsome demon dragon."
The Tyroshi saw Viserys's exaggerated dragon-wing helmet, with its spread wings and ferocious dragon horns, and strangely, they thought it was a demon dragon transformed into human form.
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They were still a bit slow, not expecting such an ambush while selling slaves in the lands of Andas.
The Tyroshi occasionally came to capture slaves, and the Andals were not their match.
However, the Tyroshi mercenaries were still seasoned in battle, and they hastily organized a counter-attack.
Some died inexplicably, as a portion of them were assassinated by crossbows in the rush and fell from their warhorses.
Other Tyroshi, however, took up their weapons.
The entire camp was ablaze with fire, the watchtowers and wooden palisades were engulfed in flames, and the firelight cast an orange glow on the soldiers' faces.
Viserys, slaying all in his path, truly looked like a demon dragon resurrected as a man.
Viserys's longsword spun and chopped through the air; a blue-haired Tyroshi, who hadn't even donned his armor, was startled.
Then, a wound was carved across his chest by the keen blade, a red fountain of blood gushed forth, and his body slumped to the ground.
Viserys then encountered a red-haired mercenary wielding a flail, intending to strike his head.
"Die!" Viserys parried and dodged, letting the flail whistle through the air, striking his breastplate and leaving a dent.
Viserys's longsword was also vicious and powerful, pushing the mercenary back.
The red-haired mercenary tried to strike again, the flail whistling as it smashed towards Viserys's helmet. Viserys, with a backhand, dragged the flail's chain, instantly closing the distance between the two warriors.
The red-haired Tyroshi was startled and reached for other weapons at his waist.
Unexpectedly, Viserys swiftly drew a dragonbone Valyrian dagger, and the dull, smoky blade of the dagger plunged directly into the gap of the Tyroshi's gorget.
This series of actions happened in a flash of lightning, the keen blade whistling with a song of death.
"Thud!" The Tyroshi's body slumped to the ground, and the flail hit the earth with a dull thud.
"Warrior!"
"Warrior Westeros!" The soldiers cheered the King's name, the unique Warrior of this era.
"Kill!"
"Leave no one alive!" Ser Roland roared, and this Tyroshi encampment became a bloody spectacle.
The cavalry's first charge was already overwhelming, not to mention the subsequent infantry support.
"Die!" The enraged Andals roared, either multiple spears pierced a Tyroshi's body at once, or after an oak shield crushed a mercenary, they were hacked to death by an axe.
The individual combat ability of Andal infantry was not as good as that of Tyroshi mercenaries, but the half-moon spear formation and numerical advantage were still impeccably ruthless.
Moreover, there were crossbowmen assisting beside the spear formation, their demonic weapons specifically targeting weak points.
The horn sounded again for the second charge. Viserys hacked and slashed, but the characters who could threaten him grew fewer and fewer.
The Tyroshi were like small boats in a tide, repeatedly overturned by the raging waves until nothing remained.
Besides killing, the supplies, warhorses, and armor in this camp were also taken away if possible, as these were very valuable.
The liberated Andals also took action; children were protected by Viserys's soldiers, and adult men and women joined the ranks of those retaliating against the Tyroshi.
"Kill, don't let any Tyroshi escape." The Andals' rage towards the Tyroshi slavers turned this place into a butcher's slaughterhouse.
The camp became a realm of fire and blood, and the scent of gore permeated the night sky.
Tyroshi tents were pushed aside, and everywhere lay the hacked-down Tyroshi mercenaries, human organs scattered like parts, as the Andals vented their fury.
Viserys's black-armored cavalry patrolled the camp, ensuring no one escaped alive.
When the battle was largely decided, the three surviving Tyroshi slavers were brought forward, held by Viserys's spearmen.
These purple-haired, blue-haired slavers, with their ornate gem-studded rings, were already terrified, completely unable to resist.
The slavers' hair and beards were oiled, and their hands bore rings of tourmaline, agate, gold, and various other colors.
Slavers were greedy, but the sight of rivers of blood had scared them out of their wits.
The clamor and frenzy of the battlefield also drew the attention of others; the hidden Riverlands Andals slowly gathered.
They watched the avenging soldiers with astonishment, as if divine warriors had descended from the sky. The black and red dragon banner told them this was no ordinary force.
"Mercy!"
"Mercy!" The once arrogant slavers now became like quails.
"Dragon King, great Dragon King, please spare us." The Tyroshi slavers didn't know why Viserys appeared here, but begging for mercy was their only hope of survival.
"Ransom, we are willing to pay you a ransom, we can offer money." The slavers wailed as if grasping at a lifeline.
"The current problem cannot be solved with money," Viserys said, taking off his dragon-wing helmet and shaking his head, a strong scent of blood emanating from him.
He looked like a handsome young man, but he was also a ruthless and bloodthirsty Warrior.
"For freedom, Andals will not be slaves," Viserys said, and the slavers' faces grew increasingly grim.
"Mercy." The slavers' legs were like jelly.
"Kill them, my lord, kill them!" cried the captured and plundered Andal women. "They killed my husband and burned our village."
"They also killed my father," many Andal children cried.
"For freedom, Andals will not be slaves," Viserys repeated the phrase.
"In that case, the heads of you scum should be handled thus." Viserys strode forward, brandishing his longsword, and the Tyroshi's heads flew through the air, sending up a spray of blood.
[""Fate Defier" Viserys Targaryen" has completed the execution of multiple "evil-doers" in battle. Reward: one basic attribute increase. Strength increased →, Agility increased →]
Viserys saw his attributes increasing and knew that killing these Tyroshi slavers was the right thing to do; every single one of them was trash, scum.
Firstly, robbing people and selling slaves were the most detestable crimes. Secondly, killing them indeed increased Viserys's attributes, not to mention gaining a group of loyal followers.
"If you kill us, you will certainly incur the hatred of the Tyroshi Slaver Guild," threatened the last living slaver.
Are you kidding? If the Tyroshi slavers came, wouldn't that just push the Andals towards him?
"I'd be glad if they did! I will demand this blood debt from the slavers." Viserys's blade spun wildly, and after an arc of force, the third slaver's head also flew, blood splashing onto the nearby soil.
By then, none of the slave-raiding Tyroshi were left alive.
This bloody execution awed the surrounding warriors and residents of the Andal villages.
But moments later, these people erupted with even greater passion.
"Viserys!"
"Warrior Westeros!"
"Warrior Westeros!"
"For freedom, fight for Viserys, fight for the King!" The warriors, and later everyone, called out fanatically.
Hundreds, or even thousands, of arms were outstretched, and they all shouted one name.
Whether they were the original Andal warriors or the long-suffering Riverlands Andals, all were shouting Viserys's name.
Viserys understood that these Riverlands Andals now had to follow him.
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