Chapter 234: A Trial Run
Asshai had no city walls.
Instead, a vast black river flowed directly through its heart, dividing the city in two.
Drogon instructed Rhaegal to circle overhead while he shrank to his smaller form and perched on Daenerys' shoulder as she walked toward the city.
As they approached, Drogon kept a close eye on the black river.
To his surprise, fish occasionally leaped from the water.
They were nothing like ordinary fish.
Their mouths were packed with razor-sharp teeth, and their twisted, savage appearance reminded him of piranhas.
He glanced toward the sky.
Within several miles of Asshai, everything was shrouded beneath a gloomy gray haze.
Combined with the pitch-black river and the distant city built entirely from black stone, the whole place radiated an oppressive, sinister atmosphere that instinctively discouraged anyone from approaching.
Had Drogon not been by her side, even with her growing mastery of magic, Daenerys would never have dared enter such a place alone.
Their arrival had already drawn the attention of sailors and merchants unloading cargo along the riverbank.
When they witnessed Drogon's enormous body suddenly shrinking into a tiny dragon, every one of them stared in astonishment.
Most of Asshai's buildings were circular in design.
Beneath the perpetually dim sky, they appeared even more ancient and oppressive.
Had it not been for the dockworkers laboring along the river, one might easily have mistaken Asshai for an abandoned city of the dead.
Ignoring the astonished gazes of the city's priests, sorcerers, and magi, Daenerys stepped into Asshai with cautious curiosity.
The deeper they walked among the black stone buildings, the more people appeared.
Before long, Daenerys spotted the famous people of Asshai.
Their faces were hidden behind lacquered red masks.
Elsewhere in the world, such attire would likely identify someone as a shadowbinder.
But in Asshai, most were simply ordinary citizens.
Some wore crimson masks.
Others concealed themselves behind black veils.
Whatever the method, almost no one allowed their true face to be seen.
Asshai was the paradise of mystics.
The number of practitioners of the occult living here rivaled—or even exceeded—the combined total found throughout the rest of the known world.
As Daenerys walked through the streets, people stopped to watch.
Her noble bearing and breathtaking beauty certainly drew attention...
But not for the reasons one might expect.
To the city's sorcerers, alchemists, and occult practitioners, even the most beautiful woman could become nothing more than a sacrificial offering—or raw material for some forbidden ritual.
Instead...
It was Drogon who fascinated them.
Although he appeared to be nothing more than a small four-legged dragon perched upon Daenerys' shoulder, every practitioner of the mystic arts could vaguely sense the extraordinary power hidden within him.
Curiosity burned in their eyes.
Yet none dared approach.
The countless mysterious figures surrounding them did little to unsettle Daenerys.
What truly troubled her were the black stone buildings.
Their surfaces were dark, slick, and faintly viscous, as though the city itself were coated in something alive.
More importantly...
She had noticed the unusual seriousness in Drogon's eyes.
That alone made her suspect that his journey to Asshai had something to do with these strange black stones.
As Drogon examined the black stone structures that filled every corner of the city, he recalled the Citadel's many theories regarding Asshai's origins.
Compared with the legends claiming that Asshai had been built either by the Bloodstone Emperor or by the Deep Ones, Drogon found another explanation far more convincing.
He believed the city had been corrupted.
After all...
Asshai stood directly beside the Shadow Lands.
The shores of the Frozen Sea bordered that cursed region.
If the Frozen Sea continued expanding outward, why would the Shadow Lands remain unchanged?
Only...
Their method of spreading was different.
Instead of freezing everything in their path, the Shadow Lands transformed the land itself.
That corruption had eventually produced the city of black stone known as Asshai.
Remembering how a single black stone pedestal in Yiti had awakened into a living horror, Drogon found it almost impossible to imagine the consequences if every piece of black stone in this city were to come alive at once.
Fortunately, Drogon didn't need to worry about that problem for the time being.
None of the black stone structures in Asshai had come to life.
If they had, neither the people of Asshai nor the countless mystics gathered here could have continued living in the city unharmed.
After destroying the living black stone in capital city, Drogon had gradually figured out why the others remained dormant.
The answer could be summed up in just five words:
Becoming a god was difficult.
Both the Night King's fleshy mass and the living black stone in Yiti had left behind divine cores after their destruction.
They weren't ordinary living black stones anymore.
They had already developed divinity.
From that, Drogon reached a conclusion.
Before ascending to godhood, black stone was merely an unusual kind of stone.
Only after attaining divinity did it awaken into something truly terrifying.
After making a full circuit of Asshai, Drogon discovered that although there were no living black stones here, every Asshai and nearly every mystic carried the same unsettling look in their eyes.
It was a mixture of suppressed desire...
And barely restrained madness.
He could tell simply by the way they stared at him.
Most of them had never seen his true form.
If they hadn't instinctively sensed that the little dragon on Daenerys' shoulder was far more dangerous than he looked, Drogon seriously doubted whether they would have rushed him in an attempt to seize him.
Daenerys noticed it as well.
Yet she wasn't frightened.
If anyone should be worried...
It was those wide-eyed mystics.
After wandering through the city for some time, darkness began falling.
Night descended much earlier in Asshai than elsewhere, a consequence of the city's unnatural environment.
The population was sparse.
Most buildings were enormous, with enough room for several families despite housing only a handful of people.
Eventually, Drogon chose a relatively isolated structure where Rhaegal would have enough room outside to move around freely.
Daenerys unpacked the tent from their supplies.
Before she had even finished pitching it, complete darkness swallowed the city.
The gloomy sky held neither moon nor stars.
Not even the faintest glimmer of light remained.
She lit one of the candles she had brought, intending to continue making camp.
To her surprise, the flame steadily dimmed.
Less than a minute later...
It went out completely.
Thinking the wick was faulty, she lit another.
It, too, died moments later.
"The black stone here absorbs every source of light. Don't bother."
Drogon had read about Asshai's strange nights in the Citadel's records.
Even so, he hadn't expected ordinary candles to be completely useless.
He stopped Daenerys before she wasted any more.
Just as she gathered a fireball in her palm to use as illumination—
ROAR!
Rhaegal suddenly let out an angry bellow from outside.
Daenerys hurried from the building.
Although the night was pitch-black, the sparks spewing from Rhaegal's jaws briefly illuminated the surrounding area.
In that fleeting light, Daenerys saw dozens of figures slowly approaching from the darkness.
Their clothing immediately gave them away.
Blood mages.
Dark alchemists.
Shadowbinders.
The same mysterious practitioners they had seen earlier that day.
Remembering the greedy gleam in their eyes whenever they looked at Drogon, Daenerys instantly understood why they had come.
She hadn't expected them to be this foolish.
Mistaking Drogon for an ordinary little dragon was one thing.
But to approach even with Rhaegal standing guard...
Their greed had overwhelmed their common sense.
Fortunately, they hadn't yet shown any obvious intent to attack.
And Rhaegal still remembered Drogon's instructions not to harm humans unless absolutely necessary.
Otherwise...
They would already have been reduced to ashes.
"Take another step forward..."
"And don't blame me for what happens next."
As she issued her warning, Daenerys raised both hands.
Two fireballs, each the size of a football, rapidly condensed above her palms.
The advancing group paused.
Clearly, they hadn't expected her to wield magic.
But after only a brief hesitation, they continued closing in.
Several of them began casting their own spells.
One slowly formed a sphere of flame above his hand.
Another's body abruptly swelled, growing nearly half a meter taller.
From somewhere within the darkness came the grating sound of heavy chains dragging across the ground.
The warning had failed.
Without another word, Daenerys hurled one of her fireballs at the tall, gaunt figure leading the group.
The man had been weaving a spell with both hands.
The instant he noticed the blazing projectile hurtling toward him, he abandoned the incantation and dove to his right.
The fireball barely grazed his shoulder.
Before relief could reach his face—
A second fireball slammed toward his chest.
He managed only the slightest twist of his body before it struck him squarely in the ribs.
"AAAH!"
The fireball exploded on impact.
The blast hurled him backward several steps while igniting half his robes.
He screamed as he desperately beat at the flames.
But the harder he slapped them...
The faster they spread.
Within moments, even his sleeves were ablaze.
Then—
His movements suddenly froze.
The screams stopped.
With a dull thud, he collapsed to the ground.
The fire quickly engulfed his entire body.
Before long...
Nothing remained except a charred, blackened corpse curled upon the earth.