GOT King of Dragon

"The person who created this magic, along with the forest witch, is truly terrifying. To think they could conceive and learn such an evil method," Babat muttered, his voice trembling. 

Unfortunately, no one paid him any attention. 

The Shadowbinder's severed head continued its grim proclamation: 

"The flesh of the Child of Shadows is inscribed with curses. Upon his death, his corpse is offered to the Cold God, to judge the sinners of this world..." 

"He is the Hound of Death, tracking the living by their scent, devouring the shadows of the living..." 

"Only by finding the token of the King of Light and returning it to his fallen servant can his wrath be quelled." 

Sam's face lit up with hope, and he hurriedly asked, "What is this token?" 

"The mask... My mask... Where is my mask..." 

Unexpectedly, the Shadowbinder's head became agitated, rolling back and forth on the wooden planks. It babbled incoherently about masks and covering its face. 

In a low voice, Solor explained, "Shadowbinders usually wear lacquered wooden masks, rarely showing their true faces." 

"So, where is the mask?" Rhaegar asked, nodding in understanding. 

Babat raised his hand hesitantly. "It's in my brother's bedroom. When the soldier brought the head as a trophy, the mask was still on it. My brother personally removed it and locked it away in the secret chamber." 

"Hmph, he really does love flaunting his spoils," Solor sneered coldly, urging Babat to retrieve the mask immediately. 

Eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the attic, Babat quickly slipped away. 

Rhaegar, however, had no time to focus on Babat. His gaze shifted to Sam, who was awkwardly circling the rolling Shadowbinder's head. Sam's bulky frame made him look especially clumsy as he chased it around, repeatedly asking how to destroy the shadow monsters. 

The head, however, shrieked bizarrely, alternating between cries of "King of Light" and rants about "magic tides." 

"Enough. At least we've gotten some clues," Rhaegar sighed, calling out, "Lord Sam, there's no need to keep asking." 

But Sam seemed not to hear him. His eyes were fixed on the spinning head, growing increasingly fervent. 

"Something's not right, Sir Solor!" Rhaegar's expression darkened, and he urgently called for the only reliable man beside him. 

Solor, a true knight with swift reflexes, leapt into the circle of candlelight in a single bound. He stomped on the rolling head and slapped the dazed Sam hard enough to knock him over. 

With a loud thud, Sam spun once before collapsing to the ground, unconscious. 

Ignoring him, Solor undid his leather belt and tightly secured the head. He then fixed it to the wooden planks with a dagger to ensure it couldn't move. 

After dealing with the aftermath, Solor hoisted the unconscious Sam onto his shoulder. He turned to exchange a glance with Rhaegar, and both sighed deeply. 

In each other's eyes, they saw a profound sense of helplessness. 

Rhaegar voiced his concern. "Will Lord Sam be all right?" 

"Don't worry, Prince. Old Sam's just had his head scrambled by the magic. One slap to knock him out, two to wake him up," Solor replied nonchalantly, raising his hand as if to demonstrate. 

"Wait! Let him sleep for a bit," Rhaegar quickly intervened. 

The Brune and Kleiber families had always been at odds. Letting Solor rough up Sam felt like betraying the respect Sam had shown Rhaegar over the years. 

"Let's head out first. We'll leave Lord Sam to his guards for now," Rhaegar said. 

His peripheral vision caught the Shadowbinder's head still twitching slightly. A chill ran down his spine, and he hurried away. 

... 

**The Next Day** 

Outside the walls of Dread Hollow Fortress, a large force had gathered. 

The Brune family had mobilized 800 soldiers, the Kleiber family 300, and the Wildling army over 2,000 freefolk. 

The three groups remained in their respective areas. 

Above them, perched on the castle walls, a massive black dragon spread its wings, casting a shadow that enveloped half the fortress. 

This dragon's presence alone kept everyone obedient. 

Standing beneath the chest of the ravenous beast, Rhaegar, gloved, held up a red lacquered mask. 

The mask's design was simple but eerie, with narrow slits for the eyes that lent it a sinister air. 

After examining it briefly, he turned to Babat, who stood bowing nearby, and said, "Let's move out." 

Babat hesitated. "Prince, are we really abandoning the castle's defenses to confront the curse in the wilderness?" 

"Did the castle protect your brother from the shadow creatures?" Rhaegar countered. 

Babat immediately fell silent. 

After a night of deliberation, Rhaegar had decided to take the initiative. 

The more the shadow creatures killed, the stronger they became. 

There was no time to waste. 

They had the Shadowbinder's head and the red lacquered mask as the token. 

Relying on the mighty dragon flame of the Devourer, it was a breeze to eliminate the shadow monster as soon as it appeared.

Solor agreed with Rhaegar's approach. 

In his view, dragons were invincible, capable of burning all evil to ash. 

Sam, who had Rhaegarined consciousness, also Rhaegarined his composure. 

Now riding on horseback, he held the Shadow Binder's severed head in his hand, avoiding even a single glance at it. 

Rhaegar planned to use the Shadow Binder's head as part of a baiting strategy. 

"Move out!" 

Rhaegar mounted the dragon's back and soared over the wildling army, shouting commands from above. 

The Crab Claws led their respective wildling factions, brandishing various weapons and cheering loudly as they followed close behind. 

To fight alongside a dragon was their greatest honor. 

Solor and Sam, in turn, issued orders to advance, riding their horses forward. 

The destination was neither too far nor too close—an open battlefield between the warring families. 

The terrain there was expansive, allowing the Devourer's dragon flame to be used to its full effect. 

... 

Upon reaching the open area, they found faint traces of blood and the stench of death left behind from a recent battle. 

Sam scanned the surroundings and angrily glared at Solor's faction. 

The bloodstains bore witness to the lives lost from soldiers of the Cliburn family. 

Solor, however, remained indifferent. 

What did the war between the Brunn and Cliburn families have to do with his branch of the Brunns? 

If not for the fact that people in his fiefdom had been cursed and killed— 

And his distant relative, Babette, had pleaded for his help—he would never have come. 

The Devourer circled the open area, descending slowly. 

Rhaegar issued instructions: "Pour the oil around the perimeter of the clearing." 

"Yes, my prince." 

Soldiers of the Brunn family drove wagons laden with barrels of oil. 

Shadow monsters feared fire. 

Solor suggested setting the clearing ablaze in a circle, while soldiers fired flaming arrows from the sides to provide support. 

Sam was not idle either. 

He brought forth a group of prisoners, their heads covered with sacks. 

He shoved the severed head into the arms of one prisoner, speaking in a grim tone: "If you survive, I will pardon your crimes." 

"My mask... Where's my mask..." 

The severed head, still murmuring about its missing mask, squirmed in the prisoner's arms. 

The prisoners, unable to see the outside world, could still feel what they were holding. 

Terrified, one collapsed to the ground, losing control of their bowels. 

The head rolled onto the ground, unfazed by pain, continuing to mutter incessantly. 

Sam took one last glance at it, torn between reluctance and fear. 

Rhaegar turned his face away, refusing to look at the screaming prisoners. 

The severed head had claimed that the shadow monster would track living humans. 

In other words, the more people gathered in one place, the more likely they were to draw the shadow monster's attention. 

With nearly three thousand people present, the shadow monster was sure to take notice. 

Strictly speaking, it wasn't just the prisoners—everyone there was bait. 

The prisoners were simply in greater danger. 

Rhaegar did not object. 

For a group of criminals, this method of atonement at least offered a slim chance of survival compared to being executed. 

Once everything was ready, Rhaegar patted the Devourer's back and gave the command: "Fly!" 

Based on prior encounters, the shadow monster feared dragon flames and avoided confronting dragons. 

The sudden attack by the shadow monster yesterday must have been triggered by something unusual, leading it to act out of character. 

Whatever the reason, 

Rhaegar and the Devourer left the clearing, as this made it easier to lure out the shadow monster. 

The man and dragon did not go far, waiting in the nearby mountain ridge beside the clearing. 

If anything changed below, Rhaegar could quickly return to support the group. 

(End of Chapter)