Chapter 143: The Devourer
The histories recorded the Doom in detail—but they also raised doubts.
Yes, the volcanic eruptions and earthquakes had devastated the Valyrian Freehold.
But when later expeditions entered the ruins, they found something unsettling—
The destruction was too complete.
Not a single dragon had escaped.
Nearly forty dragonlord families were wiped out. Even the dragon eggs were entirely destroyed.
Right after the catastrophe, the Smoking Sea hadn't even formed yet, and the ruins weren't called the Demon Lands.
But as more investigators and explorers vanished one after another, the region grew increasingly hostile.
Massive sea tornadoes formed, smoke lingered endlessly in the air, and rumors spread of demons and sea monsters lurking within.
At first, people didn't take these changes too seriously.
But when almost no one who entered ever returned—
They began to realize something far more terrifying had happened there.
Even so, the allure of Valyria—its lost civilization and dragons—continued to draw pirates, explorers, and even entire nations.
Like moths to a flame.
The Free City of Volantis had once sent a fleet, hoping to uncover Valyria's secrets and inherit its power.
None returned.
If Euron had truly entered this place and come back with a dragon horn—
Even Drogon had to admit it required both madness and incredible luck.
This was a place where even short-term survival was nearly impossible.
How he had found that horn… Drogon couldn't imagine.
---
If the histories only suspected something was off about the Doom—
Drogon was certain.
Four hundred years had passed, yet he could still sense the lingering presence of gods here.
That alone proved how deeply they had been involved.
The dragonlords of Valyria had worshipped no gods.
With dragons and magic, they believed they needed nothing else—no prayers, no faith.
Still, they allowed followers of various gods to preach within their lands.
According to what Daenerys once heard from Viserys Targaryen, the dragonlords permitted this not out of tolerance—
But to divide their subjects, preventing unified resistance.
What they never expected—
Was that the gods would not act through followers at all.
They would act directly.
And destroy everything.
The dragonlords, their empire, their dragons—the very foundation of their rule.
---
Only House Targaryen survived.
Forewarned by dragon dreams, they moved to Dragonstone before the Doom, preserving their bloodline—and the last remaining dragons in the world.
A century later, Aegon I Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with three dragons, forging the Iron Throne and establishing three hundred years of Targaryen rule.
---
Drogon had always thought gods could only influence the world indirectly—
Through believers.
Like Melisandre using blood magic.
Or subtle manipulation of fate and minds.
But now—
He understood.
The gods' power went far beyond that.
They could unleash disasters on a massive scale.
Whether it was magic or something else, he couldn't say.
Ordinary dragons had burned in Valyria's fires.
He himself no longer feared such heat—he could bathe in magma without harm.
But the gods' power was clearly not limited to that.
Even a mere servant of the Undying had abilities like teleportation and splitting forms.
Melisandre could summon shadow magic, enchant weapons with fire, even bring Jon back from death.
Bran Stark could see past and future.
The Night King could raise entire armies of the dead.
---
And him?
After absorbing divine light, he could barely be considered a god.
Yet aside from devouring, changing size, and possessing a powerful body—
He had nothing else.
If a true god targeted him—
Would brute strength alone be enough?
For the first time, Drogon felt uncertain.
And for now—
He had no answer.
He decided that from now on, he'd eat until completely full every time—push his body to become even stronger, become a dragon god that simply couldn't be killed.
The deeper he went into the Smoking Sea, the more he was amazed by the power of the gods.
A disaster on this scale—
How had they even done it?
Even if all the gods had joined forces, it still felt unbelievable.
As he went further in, he saw more landmasses—ruined castles and collapsed palaces scattered across them.
Thinking of how Euron might have found the dragon horn here, Drogon couldn't help but feel tempted to explore.
Maybe there were still relics from Valyria left behind.
He flew through the ruins several times—
But found nothing.
Just broken debris and wrecked ships.
And it was obvious the place had already been searched over and over—picked clean. Anything valuable was long gone.
Then where had Euron found the horn?
Judging from how well-preserved it was, it couldn't have come from these collapsed ruins.
Underground? Or from a sunken ship beneath the sea?
Drogon glanced around, making guesses.
But he had no interest in digging through layers of ruins to search for buried structures.
As for diving—
He could stay underwater for a while, but exploring the deep sea for long periods wasn't something he wanted to do.
At that point, he'd rather stroll the Dothraki Godsway again—maybe he'd stumble across another item tied to the gods.
Dropping the idea of treasure hunting, Drogon decided to circle the Smoking Sea once more and then head back.
Daenerys was probably already worried.
He had confirmed what he came to check—there was no point staying longer.
Ahead, land began to appear—vast in size.
He guessed he had reached the northern edge of the Smoking Sea. That land might be the Lands of the Long Summer.
The smoke over the sea was thinning.
Once he crossed the northern boundary, he would turn west and rejoin the fleet.
Just as he approached the shore—
He suddenly spotted a massive crimson tree in the distance.
Could it be…?
With a powerful beat of his wings, he flew closer.
It was.
A weirwood.
The pale trunk looked like unweathered bone, its leaves like outstretched hands, and carved into its center was a bleeding human face.
Staring at the ancient tree, a strange feeling rose in Drogon's chest.
For no clear reason, memories of his past life—of being trapped in a dull, exhausting existence—surfaced.
And with them—
A sudden, uncontrollable anger.