101 AC, Long Summer.
Shira's silver-white scales shimmered with a warm luster under the blazing sun. Raymond's hand, gripping the dragon saddle's reins, felt the deep roar emanating from the dragon's throat, its low-frequency, majestic sound vibrating his chest.
Who could have imagined? Just over two months ago, it was struggling in pain under a curse, on its last breath. Now, it had been reborn from the ashes, its wings spread wide enough to obscure half the sky, radiating a brilliance as fiery as a small sun fallen to earth.
"Steady... slow... slowly..." Raymond held his breath, muttering to himself.
Just then, Shira suddenly raised its head high, letting out a shriek that could split rocks and pierce clouds! The sound solidified into a visible sound wave, carrying immense power, instantly shaking the distant steep cliff, sending rocks raining down.
"Good heavens!! Is this a sonic boom? But does Reshiram's skill pool have this?" Raymond was a little excited; Shira could indeed learn Pokémon skills.
The twisted monsters hidden in the crisscrossing cracks of the ruins fearfully scurried into deeper shadows, their cloudy eyes filled with terror.
Ever since Shira emerged from its cocoon, Raymond had been flying it daily for over a month. In these days, they had toured the entire winding volcanic range like a monarch's procession.
The strong wind freely poured into Raymond's collar, and the high-speed flight brought the thrill of surging blood. It turned out that riding on a giant dragon's back felt more than a hundred times better than he had imagined—this was not the superficial display of a noble young master riding a horse through the streets, but a genuine sense of controlling supreme power, as if the entire vast world had already prostrated itself at his feet.
Shira seemed to precisely capture its master's surging ambition, and its massive wings flapped with a thunderous roar! The colossal dragon body shot up hundreds of meters into the sky like a silver meteor.
Raymond steadily looked down at the scarred Valyria below, and past events flashed before his eyes. Although he had once built his own forces, they were... like flowers in water and the moon in a mirror. Now, he truly had a fundamental base to resist everything.
Shira's keen senses suddenly detected something unusual, and a low, warning, and deterrent hum suddenly emanated from its throat. Its dragon neck swiftly turned southeast. Raymond understood immediately and followed its gaze—only to see a team of people approaching along a rugged, rocky path at the foot of the volcano.
Several warriors in fine armor, holding whips, were escorting a group of stumbling slaves. On the flag at the front of the team, the powerful elephant head and fierce tiger head emblems were crudely sewn together—they were Volantene! The Tiger Party and Elephant Party, once vying for power, now had the same naked greed in their eyes, circling the scorched ruins like vultures.
"Hmph, just in time." Raymond's lips curled into a cold smile, his hand already resting on the steel dragon-training whip at his waist, the cold, fine metal scales rubbing against his palm, bringing a chilling thrill.
He had long been prepared: the ancient texts in the cave were already stored; "Black Lightning" was worn on him; the "Skybreaker" sword was slung across his back.
Shira let out a low warning growl, landing directly in front of those people.
The crowd below instantly erupted like boiling water! The startled warhorses reared up, letting out shrill neighs, and several timid soldiers' legs buckled, falling to their knees with a thud.
"Who's in charge? Get out here!" Raymond's voice was cold and extremely penetrating, cutting through the commotion of the crowd.
The leader at the front hastily took off his helmet, revealing a greasy, bearded middle-aged face, "Sir, this humble one..."
"I have no interest in who you are!" Raymond rudely interrupted him, "State your purpose, or... your master's scheme!"
"Yes... yes, as you command! Sir," the fat man bowed nervously, "We are a Volantene exploration team, having landed on the west coast over a month ago. A few days ago... we heard dragon roars from this direction, so..."
"So you planned to come and rob?" Raymond's sneer was like a cold wind blowing across an iron blade. He agilely dismounted, his heavy armored boots steadily and powerfully crushing the gravel.
"Clang—!"
The sound of "Skybreaker" being unsheathed was sharper and clearer than a cracking thousand-year glacier! "I give you two choices—kneel, confess your greed, and then get out of my sight; or..." His sword tip gleamed with cold light, pointing into the distance, "I will leave you here forever!"
Roar—!
Shira cooperatively opened its giant mouth like an abyss, and silver-white dragon breath violently surged in its throat! The terrifying sight made the blood drain from the fat man's face with a "whoosh," turning as pale as limestone, and his spear clattered to the ground, slipping from his hand.
The soldiers behind him were in utter chaos, some pushing each other, trying to retreat, some with visibly wet trousers, and others trembling futilely, trying to stand but too terrified to move—the greed in their eyes had long vanished without a trace, leaving only an unshakeable fear.
"Confess! We confess!" The fat man's knees completely gave out, and he fell heavily to the ground with a "thud," kowtowing like pounding garlic, his helmet rolling to Raymond's feet, "Dare... dare I ask... you... which family do you belong to, Sir?"
"What? Trying to probe my background, so you can seek revenge later?" Raymond unhesitatingly lifted his foot and firmly stomped on the exquisite helmet. His unique purple eyes shimmered in the sunlight with a cold light like ice-bound amethyst, "Listen carefully! My name is Raymond Targaryen. From now on, this lost land of Valyria has its master! Any scoundrels who dare to covet this place," he swept his gaze over the trembling people, "will regret their foolishness in the dragon's merciless flames... No! They will regret ever coming into this world!"
"Hiss-ga—!!"
Shira let out an earth-shattering roar in response, flapping its wings vigorously! The fierce hurricane it unleashed immediately sent the kneeling crowd wailing and stumbling. Raymond surveyed the people prostrate in the dust, trembling like leaves in the wind, and slowly spoke, every word thudding to the ground with a clang...
"Now, get back," he used the cold sword tip to lift the fat man's thick chin, "Tell those self-important lords in Volantis... next time they think of setting foot on this land, remember—" His gaze was sharp as a knife, "to bring their kneeling mats!"
The crowd, as if granted a great pardon, scrambled to retreat, losing their way, and faint murmurs came from the rising dust:
"He... he really is a Targaryen from Westeros... then this dragon..."
"No... no, I think I remember, isn't he that wh..."
"Shut your stinking mouth! You pig! Do you want everyone to turn into dragon dung with you?!"
...
When the dust settled, Shira's huge dragon head gently approached, its nose tip carrying the warm scent of sulfur, and affectionately rubbed Raymond's shoulder.
Raymond stroked its warm scales, looked up, and gazed at the misty sea-sky horizon beyond Valyria's desolate ruins—across the sea lay the prosperous but humiliating Volantis, where his humble past was once confined. But now, his dragon-soaring future firmly rested in the shadow of this silver-white dragon's back.
"Let's go, Shira," Raymond's voice was soft, yet it contained an iron will. He mounted the dragon, his full Valyrian steel armor reflecting a dark glow in the setting sun, "It's time to return to Volantis..." His lips slowly curved into a harmless smile, "It's time to remind certain arrogant people... of the fear of being dominated by the Valyrian Dragonlords!"