Ghidorah's flight speed was extremely fast.
Looking down from high above, the blue Summer Sea below was gradually replaced by yellow-green plains, followed by the characteristic reddish-brown soil of Sothoryos.
This was one of the most fertile plains on the continent of Essos, yet at this moment, it had become a battlefield.
On an open plain, two massive camps could be seen, separated only by a dried-up riverbed.
The Volantis side had an army of approximately forty thousand men.
This army was centered around the Tiger Party's elite "Black Wall Guard," supplemented by a large number of Mercenaries and conscripted Free Folk; they were well-equipped and high-spirited, at least on the surface.
In front of the army formation, dozens of catapults and Scorpion Crossbows had already been set up. There were also several war elephants, raised by one of the mercenary companies.
On the Free Bay side, five thousand Unsullied formed the central phalanx, with shields interlocked and spears like a forest.
On each wing were twenty thousand Free Folk troops, their formation slightly loose but their morale high. Behind them were five thousand Imperial cavalry, primarily composed of the first group of Dothraki screamers to submit. Dozens of catapults and crossbows were also set up in front of their formation.
The two armies were not far apart, arrayed in battle positions with banners fluttering, as a chilling aura of slaughter filled the air.
They had already clashed several times before, and because their strengths were comparable, they had traded victories and losses. Thus, they had agreed to engage in battle at a fixed time each day.
In front of the Imperial formation, Duke Arthur Dayne sat atop his warhorse, his suit of valyrian steel armor glistening in the sunlight. "Dawn" and another valyrian steel sword, "Breaking Dawn," pointed diagonally toward the sky, their blades reflecting a cold light.
He looked up at the sky, a hint of a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"The time has come." As if to validate his words, chaos soon erupted within the opposing formation.
Just yesterday, Duke Arthur had met with the secret envoy sent by Moro. The two parties had agreed that today, Moro would lead the dothraki to attack from the rear of the Volantis army.
At this moment, in the Volantis camp.
"General." An adjutant ran over hurriedly. "Enemy cavalry have been discovered in the rear; their numbers are vast."
The one commanding this army was a famous Tiger Party general, Gerhal Moregen. Hearing the adjutant's words, he turned abruptly. "Where did they come from?"
"They came from the north. Judging by their attire, they are dothraki, at least ten thousand of them."
Gerhal's heart sank instantly. He immediately understood what had happened; it must be those three Khalasars that were supposed to contain the Targaryens but had ultimately defected.
"Contract the right wing, have the heavy infantry turn to defend against the rear cavalry charge," he ordered quickly. "Tell the archers and crossbowmen to prioritize firing on the cavalry. Also, move the war elephant unit to the back, quickly!"
However, just as the order was passed down, a dragon's roar echoed from the sky.
Every soldier, whether Volantis or Imperial, instinctively looked up.
At the edge of the sky, two black dots were rapidly enlarging. One of them shimmered with a golden light—it was the arriving Ghidorah.
Her three heads hung low, and her six golden eyes looked down upon the earth; that gaze brought nothing but pure power and majesty.
On the dragon's back, a silver-haired figure could be seen.
The other dragon was pitch black and devoid of light, looking like a black island flying through the sky.
They spread their wings, and their shadows shrouded half the battlefield.
"Dragons..." a Volantis veteran muttered, the spear in his hand trembling slightly.
Gerhal gritted his teeth and drew his longsword. "Do not panic! They are just flying lizards. Archers, aim!"
But his words were cut short by Ghidorah's attack.
There was no probing and no warning this time; it was a direct, devastating strike.
Ghidorah swept over the Volantis formation, her left head exhaling an Icy Breath. The blue breath poured down, covering an entire infantry square. Hundreds of soldiers were instantly frozen into ice sculptures, maintaining their final poses with shock and fear frozen on their faces.
The right head turned toward the archer positions, and Dragonfire swept through. Arrows, wooden ballistae, and soldiers clad in leather armor all turned into balls of burning fire. Screams were swallowed by the flames, and the air was filled with the smell of firewood and the scent of charred flesh.
The Golden Ray swept toward the war elephants that stood out so prominently in the formation. After the ray passed through, only the legs of several elephants remained standing on the battlefield; as for the upper bodies of the elephants and the soldiers atop them, they had vanished without a trace.
Black Flame, meanwhile, continuously breathed Dragonfire toward the areas where the Mercenaries were gathered. These Mercenaries, who possessed no true loyalty to begin with, immediately scattered and fled, abandoning their mission.
But this was only the appetizer.
Ghidorah made a sharp turn and began a second dive. This time, her target was the location of the general, Gerhal Moregen.
In the throat of Ghidorah's middle head, golden light converged.
Gerhal saw that light. He remembered the destruction of the Temple of Immortals in Qarth and the fall of Slavers Bay. He instinctively wanted to dodge, but Ghidorah's eyes were already locked onto him, leaving him without the courage to even take a step.
"Raise shields!" he ordered with a tremble—though it was an order, it was also a way to bolster his own courage.
"Protect the general!" the captain of the guards roared sternly.
The surrounding shield-bearers blankly raised their great shields, forming a Testudo formation. They vainly hoped to block the dragon's attack in this manner.
Unfortunately, their defense was destined to be futile. The Golden Ray descended.
There was no sound, only light.
The great shields melted within the golden light as if they had never existed. The soldiers holding them didn't even have time to scream before they, along with their armor and the ground beneath their feet, were annihilated.
The ray continued forward, piercing through the entire square and plowing a massive "blank zone" through the army formation. The edges were as smooth as a mirror, and the cross-section was vitrified.
Gerhal stood on one leg at the edge of the blank zone; the left half of his body had completely disappeared.
But his body didn't seem to realize it was already dead. He stumbled a step, looking down at his half-missing body with a face of initial confusion before his consciousness was lost in the darkness.
"Gen... General..." The adjutant's voice was trembling, unable to form a complete sentence.
But that golden figure pulled up once more, preparing for a third round of attacks.
This army had completely collapsed.
Witnessing the death of their general and the instantaneous evaporation of countless comrades, even the bravest soldier would lose their will to fight. It was no longer just the Mercenaries retreating; more and more people were fleeing in a rout.
Just then, the thunderous sound of hooves came from the rear.
The twelve thousand Dothraki screamers led by Moro swept in like a storm. They split into dozens of groups and began to intercept and slaughter the fleeing soldiers.
Across the riverbank, Duke Arthur also led his troops toward the battlefield.
The Unsullied phalanx began to advance. Their steps were synchronized, spears leveled, and shields interlocked, like a grey tide of steel pressing slowly and orderly against the chaotic enemy lines.
However, the Free Folk Legions on both sides were exhilarated by the sight of the dragons' might and let out earth-shattering roars. They burst forward with incredible speed, unable to maintain formation as they charged chaotically toward the crumbling enemy.
But while both sides were in chaos, they were in completely different states.
An hour later, the battle was over.
The plains were strewn with corpses, almost all of whom were Volantis soldiers. Over fifteen thousand prisoners were taken, and the captured supplies were piled as high as mountains.
Duke Arthur rode his horse to Viserys, who had already leaped down from Ghidorah's back.
"Your Majesty." Arthur saluted with a hand to his chest. "The Volantis army has been completely dealt with."
Viserys nodded and looked toward the direction of Volantis.
"Rest for one day. Tomorrow, we march on Volantis."
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