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Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Stygai
The corpse city now resembled just another ordinary, ruined city instead of the previous hellish sights. Only, there was a slight problem Sandor encountered.
Robert has been asleep for almost two days now.
He spent time acting like a fucking healer. Good thing the man enjoyed telling the stranger to piss off. Now, he just had to wait.
"Fuck." A low groan came from the campsite. Sandor let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Fucking hell," Sandor swore. He rushed to Robert's side, seeing him look around with bleary eyes.
"How long was I out? " he asked. His voice was raspy even though Sandor had made sure Robert drank enough water.
Considering what had happened, he looked remarkably healthy. "Almost two days. Are you well?"
"No. I feel as if all three of the dragons sat on me at the same time." Or rather, he was inflated like a balloon.
"Since we are alive, it seems the plan was a success," he muttered. With how much his body ached, he wouldn't even attempt to get up.
"Aye. That thing," Sandor shuddered, "turned the sorcerer into a skull. The shadows started disappearing after that. He said he'd be back once you were on your feet."
"Yay," Robert drawled. "We did it. Celebratory drinks are on me."
"Just don't fucking die here."
"Is there food? I am starving."
"Since there is nothing alive around here, the dragons have been gone most of the day to hunt. They brought back a deer yesterday."
Sandor brought him a plate full of venison. Forcing himself into an upright position, Robert ate. His muscles burned, his bones ached, but he had to eat.
"Here." He laid down a bag, kicking the object inside towards Robert. It slid on the ground, stopping next to the weary man.
The very same crystal that was the heart of the necromancer's power.
"The sorcerer dropped it."
"Nice, but I swear I saw something like this before," he said. While eating, he racked his brain to remember when.
"What now?" Sandor growled. There were voices coming from beyond the walls of the courtyard.
He drew his sword. The dragons were still out. He'd be alone in a fight. Men from Asshai, wearing their black veiled clothing, came through the gate. There were too many for him to fight.
He picked up some of the words they were screaming. Dragonlord and Kill were the ones he first recognized. He gritted his teeth and was about to charge at the bastards.
They went on their knees, bowing towards Robert. Sandor's charge stalled before he could start running.
"What the fuck are they saying?" he scowled.
"Allow the one at the front to approach," Robert grunted. He was in no condition to fight. If these people wished him harm, he would distract them until the dragons returned.
Though, they were more likely to be investigating why the Shadow Lands wasn't the Shadow Lands anymore.
"Ah, I remember you," he said. The man who approached was the alchemist from whom he had asked directions.
The man had a million questions. Starting with how Robert had broken the curse that had been plaguing the city for thousands of years.
He avoided mentioning Gaunter O'Dimm. Who knew what kind of trouble there would be if people suddenly started seeking the Master Mirror? He revealed the existence of the necromancer.
The foul sorcerer had gained more power than he could handle, and his spirit was shattered across the land. He simply gathered the sorcerer's broken spirit in himself and destroyed him.
Hence his weary state.
The red gem, the power source of the necromancer, was hidden in a saddlebag.
The alchemist recorded everything with shining eyes. By the end of it, he looked at Robert as if he was a hero straight out of ancient legends. He allowed the man to explore the city. He wasn't in any condition to do so, and he already had the most valuable thing he could probably find.
When his dragons came flying down, he finally remembered where he had seen a similar crystal. The Dothraki rider he had burned to hatch the dragons had a gem exactly like this. Only, it was far smaller and not as vibrant.
He wagered Gaunter might know something about it.
It was getting late. He would rest for now and leave for Asshai tomorrow.
—
Asshai
The city had undergone a wild change. Still old and battered, but the suffocating atmosphere was gone. It felt more like exploring a location with deep history rather than a city that might kill you any second.
The people were livelier as well. Some of the veils were gone. The bustle you would expect from a city of this size was there.
Sleeping in the city did not seem so undesirable now. He found an inn, filled his belly, and hit the sack, sleeping well into the noon of the next day. It made him hungrier.
Gorging on a small feast with Sandor, he wondered when Gaunter would appear.
"You said he would be back when I am on my feet, right?" he asked. He threw his head back to drink the ale and almost spat it all out.
"Indeed I did, Master Robert."
Sitting next to Sandor, who was frozen mid-bite, Gaunter O'Dimm was watching him.
"Goddamn it," he cursed. He coughed to get the ale droplets out of his windpipe. Once he had stopped, Gaunter continued.
"You know, I realized something. I never introduced myself to you. Gaunter O'Dimm, at your service."
"Well, Sandor," he waved the spoon at the frozen man, "told me that you turned the sorcerer into a skull. Since the shadows are gone as well, I take it he has paid the price of the wishes."
"He has, much to my pleasure."
"So, where do I find R'hllor, and how do I kill him?" He wanted to get straight to the point. The less time spent with this entity, the better.
"There are catacombs beneath the Temple of the Lord of Light. R'hllor hides there. The entrance is beneath the giant brazier inside the temple. How you get there is your business."
"Fair," he said. Their agreement did not include assistance in transportation.
"Now, if I may take your sword for a minute," the demon held his hand out.
Robert did so without a word. Gaunter took it, hand wrapped around the blade. He got goosebumps when the Master Mirror's eyes turned yellow with black irises and black veins bulged.
The words were worse.
Gaunter spoke in something unholy. The whispers of multiple hissing words spoken at once resonated in his soul like the drumbeats.
He tried to ignore the sound, but it only made it more invasive. He was about to block his ears. Thankfully, the sound stopped.
"I should warn you, Master Robert. You will have only one chance; I suggest you go for something vital," Gaunter suggested, handing Nightblood back.
"Much appreciated." Runes were carved on the middle of the blade across its length. They were shadowy, there one second, gone the next.
"One last thing. Any idea what this is?" he asked, removing the crystal from the bag. He discovered it was safe to touch.
Gaunter smiled, and Robert shivered. "Life itself, condensed into a crystal by Xolani. They are used for many things. Extending life, healing fatal injuries, and rituals. That is, if you can draw the power from it."
He rose from the chair, taking an apple with him. "Your plan, successful or not, is bound to be interesting. Farewell, Master Robert. Perhaps we shall meet again."
The Master Mirror left the inn, and the flow of time continued.
"He did. Should we look for him?" Sandor asked.
Robert shook his head, showing him the sword. "No need. He was just here."
Sandor cursed when the words registered in his brain.
"Fucking hell. What the hell is that thing to just stop time like this?"
"I don't want to know. Do you?"
His right-hand man growled but did not disagree.
Before the word of his deed got out and he had people vying for his attention, Robert left the city. He followed the same route back to Volantis and rested to full strength in the Valyria outpost. A letter was also sent to Asgard from the outpost.
It was a pity they didn't have enough glass candle operators to spare one for the outpost.
His plan was simple.
For all his deeds, defeating a god in one-on-one combat was not possible unless he played it smart. Charging headfirst into the catacombs would see him dead. He did not come this far to die in Volantis.
However, if R'hllor wanted to hurt him first, then he could get close enough.
He knew just what to do.
—
Volantis
Once more, the worshippers of the red god were gathered in the temple, listening to Benerro preach. Once more, they dispersed like rats.
"You again." Benerro did not seem happy.
He ignored the priest and dismounted. Sandor followed along.
"Where do you think you are going?" The priest asked, stepping in front of both.
He slapped Benerro to the floor in response. "Inside. Try to stop me if you like."
"That's right," he chuckled, "you can't. If you could have, you wouldn't need those shadow demons."
"Bitch," Robert added as an afterthought.
Benerro couldn't fight him, but the Fiery Hand could. The slave guards of the temple, exactly a thousand of them, came at him.
Robert crossed his arms, standing against the army. Sandor was right next to him, waiting.
Obelisk came flying down. Crimson lines spread from his chest.
A blue lance, far smaller than the one used against the kraken, struck the mindless army. The result was an explosion. It wiped out the Fiery Hand and left a crater behind.
He strolled forward, whistling a merry tune. The priests were running away now that he dared to attack the temple. He still walked, ignoring everyone. There was only one target worth his time.
Several priests, rather than fleeing, chose to barricade themselves inside the temple. The gate was closing slowly since the members of the Fiery Hand were dead. He put one hand on the right half of the gate, and Sandor took the left half.
He pushed back both the gate and the priests. Seeing they were stumbling around, he kicked the wooden door. The priests went flying like bowling pins.
A hallway stood before him. Six red pillars with flame motifs were on each side, with braziers between each one. Further ahead, through another gate, was the brazier Gaunter mentioned.
Unless they had a larger one for some dumb reason.
"Do we push this?"
Secured atop a slab of marble touching the back wall, there wasn't enough leverage for them to try.
Looking around, he searched for a lever that might open this. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. He considered torturing a priest for answers, but one had come volunteering.
"I do not know how you came to learn of the catacombs, but only a sacrifice can open the way forwrd," Melisandre said, stepping out of the shadows.
"Huh. Thanks for being dumb enough to tell me that," he replied. It was always appreciated to have villains or idiots reveal such vital clues.
"I revealed it so you may know the futility of your actions. You will not…" While Melisandre was monologuing like a Saturday cartoon villain, Robert threw his hammer like a javelin.
There was a nasty crunch as her knee was shattered, followed by an ear-splitting shriek. Rolling his eyes at the high and mighty bitch, Robert retrieved his hammer and wrapped a hand in Melisandre's hair.
He dragged her like a garbage bag up the stairs amid the screams. Without even mocking her one last time, Robert threw her into the brazier.
Her screams cut off as the flames consumed her in the blink of an eye. The fire changed color into a blood red. The whole platform shook as it was dragged to the side by an unseen power.
He put his hammer down to stabilize himself and jumped down once the movement ceased.
For how deep the stairs went, he couldn't see until torches lit up with that infernal crimson color. It must have gone several levels down, because even with the light, the end was not in sight.
"What now?" Sandor asked.
"Stay here, guard the entrance, and if I don't return, take the dragons home," he ordered. There had to be at least one person to guide the dragons, and since he had to confront R'hllor, it was left to Sandor.
Sandor's nose twitched. "You sound grim for once."
"Sandor, I am about to fight a god. If I die, it was a good fight. If I win, it was a good fight too," he said. Either way, he would win.
"I am not telling your family that you died here."
"It's just in case," he shouted, already taking the steps down. He didn't have any intention of dying here either.
—
The stairs were dusty. He had to cover his face to avoid breathing it in. Knowing the kind of god R'hllor was, these could be the remains of the humans sacrificed to him.
The face of a niece that may never be born came to mind. It only served to enrage him. Yet, he had to keep a cool head here. Deception and surprise were the keys to victory.
When the stairs were behind him, he stood in a hallway. There was a door ahead, red, simple, and radiating scorching heat. He could feel the sweat gather on his forehead. Yet, he didn't have an ounce of fear in his heart.
He kicked the door open.
"Rough ridin' down to Volantis like what's up bitches!"
—
As Robert left Asshai to rest in Valyria, his latest deed spread faster than lightning. The shadows that had gripped Asshai, Sygai, and the nearby lands were gone after thousands of years.
All due to the Father of Dragons, who had destroyed the spirit of the sorcerer responsible for the calamity. The Emperor and nobles of Yi-Ti, who had merely laughed at the deeds of the Lord of Asgard as nothing more than fanciful stories, quickly changed their minds once Asshai was no longer known as "by the Shadow."
Envoys, consisting of noble daughters and several of the most cherished princesses of Yi-Ti, were sent to Asgar. d.
On Moraq, a certain woman cursed once she heard the news. Another woman, this time in Qarth, had laughed, buying a round of drinks for everyone at the tavern.
By the time the elephant and tiger factions of Volantis received word, Robert was already assaulting the Temple of the Lord of Light.
Westeros was not yet aware of anything, but once Robert's letter reached Asgard, more than one person fainted.
"I am off to kill R'hllor. I'll be back in a week or so. I want chocolate for dessert."
—
In the next chapter:
Sandor brought the sword down, splitting another soldier's skull in half.
"Sandor, we need to get out of here," Robert coughed out, climbing the last steps. His leg finally gave up, and he fell.
"What the fuck happened to you?!" he screamed, kicking another soldier away. He rushed to pull Robert up. Whatever had happened down there, Robert did not seem to be the victor.
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