The black dragon bones were as towering as a hill; one glance was enough to command one's full attention.
The dragon's maw was the most prominent feature, its teeth like black swords, capable of swallowing a whole bison or a mammoth wandering the frozen wastes of the far north.
The dragon's body length exceeded two hundred meters, and its wingspan was over six hundred meters—it could truly be said to blot out the sky, a living fossil of the dragon race.
If this were a female dragon, she would likely be the true mother of the dragon race.
But regardless of whether it was male or female, a dragon of this size was undoubtedly a legendary war machine.
The dragon had fallen in a pose of flight, spanning from the hill to the tower, merging with the Valyrian Ruins.
Looking at it, it seemed the dragon's flight had been connected to the Doom.
Perhaps some Dragonlord had tried to mount the dragon and fly away, only to end up buried in the land of calamity.
Viserys had only seen the dragon skull of Balerion when he was very young, but now he was seeing the complete skeleton of an enormous, ancient dragon.
"How could such an old dragon possibly still fly?" This was Viserys's only thought.
Dragons grow larger and older until, eventually, they lose the strength to fly.
For example, in the year before the Black Dread died, Balerion the Black Dread finally stopped growing.
It became sluggish, heavy, and difficult to rouse.
When the first Prince Viserys rode it that same year, the Black Dread struggled to take flight, and they circled King's Landing three times.
The prince believed that the dragon no longer had the strength to fly from King's Landing to Dragonstone.
Now, seeing these shocking dragon bones, Viserys felt there was only one possibility: Blood Magic.
"This is truly a miracle," Viserys muttered to himself.
That flower of blood still lingered in the dragon's eye socket, flickering.
Viserys noticed a discordant detail about the dragon bones at a glance: the skeleton of the Dragon Rider who should have been mounting the dragon was nowhere to be seen, which was very strange.
If one were to say the Dragon Rider had turned to dust, Viserys felt that was unrealistic.
Viserys, riding Sunfire, circled carefully above the tower and the ruins of the hills, taking in the desolation below.
Guiding Sunfire, he first circled the dragon bones several times. Viserys felt that there really wasn't anything left to extract from this dragon.
That flower of blood was somewhat eerie, so Viserys did not attempt to seize it for the time being.
The only thing of value was likely the tower.
Viserys looked again at the ruined tower of the Blood Cult. The black towers of the Blood Cult Dragon King were all cast from black stone. Even if there had been lava flowing beneath the tower back then, it remained sturdy.
The black stone was carved everywhere with the likeness of dragons, and the tower became increasingly narrow from bottom to top.
The black tower seemed to have been snapped by the hand of a creator god, leaving behind an irregular scar; the place where the top of the tower should have been had vanished.
This black tower had also been deliberately coated inside and out with a layer of pitch-black, night-dark oily substance, like a cloak for the tower.
The oily pigment dripped along with the scattered black stones into the barrier lake and flowed down the small stream.
This oily pigment was the sealant for the Blood Cult Dragon King's laboratory, preventing any of the Blood Cult's pets from escaping.
After thinking it over, Viserys decided to pay a visit to the laboratory.
To be safe, he applied some of the sealant sludge onto his own armor.
But just as Viserys finished his preparations, an unexpected change occurred.
Viserys saw a figure appear abruptly at the entrance of the tower.
Viserys saw that "person," or perhaps a humanoid monster, wearing magnificent armor.
The knight was covered from head to toe in magnificent yet unencumbered golden plate armor. The valyrian steel was light and hard, providing extreme defense while being as light as silk once worn.
On each shoulder of the plate armor was a golden dragon with its head raised in a roar, its eyes made of two exquisite rubies.
Between the brows of each dragon was a teardrop-shaped gem, as if it had been reborn across the storms of time.
Many golden discs protected the joints between the arms and the chest armor, all painted in the pattern of gold and red dancing dragons.
From the waist to the thighs, he wore a lobster-shell-like metal skirt, and around his neck was a sturdy gorget.
Viserys saw the golden helmet discarded behind him. The helmet had dragon wings spread on both sides, the visor shaped like a roaring dragon's snout, leaving only a thin slit for the wearer to see.
On top of the helmet was a proud and formidable golden dragon, flapping its wings and roaring.
This abrupt visitor was not wearing the helmet, so Viserys could see his exquisite and elegant features.
He was about twenty years old, a young man with silver-gold hair and an unearthly beauty.
The young man was as thin as a sword, and just as dangerous.
Viserys rarely complimented others on being better looking than himself, as Viserys's own appearance was top-notch.
But he had to admit that this young man was a scion of an ancient Dragonlord Family.
What was shocking was that at the young man's chin, a small red gem dagger was deeply embedded in his jaw.
Between the man's brows was another teardrop-shaped blood-red gem, which shimmered with his movements.
"Is this the Dragon King of the Blood Cult?" Viserys speculated.
Only the Blood Cult would be obsessed with blood gems, and this Dragon King had even modified his own body.
Sticking a dagger into his chin was perhaps an emergency response when he was severely wounded; the price was becoming a blood zombie upon the ruins.
The young man's eyes were one purple and one red. The red pupil was unnaturally crimson, appearing extremely eerie—a gaze that made one's own eyes burn just by looking at it.
Viserys felt this red eye was a side effect of magical overindulgence, much like the greenseers of the Old Gods; Bloodraven had albinism and a red eye.
And those Warlocks who frequently drank Nightshade had blue lips.
Viserys gripped his True Dragon Sword; he felt he could not leave. The ancient Dragon King, who had not aged within the dust, had already noticed him.
"Darys. Daecalyan." The Blood Cult Dragon King called out his name, drew the longsword in his hand, and strode toward Viserys.
The crossguard of the longsword consisted of two blood-red dragons back-to-back, roaring outwards, their tails knotted and coiled together, with a teardrop-shaped blood gem at the core.
The dragons' eyes were also adorned with red gems, and their extended wings formed the sword's guard.
The blade of the longsword had an eerie blood-red ripple, like a sword weeping blood.
Viserys was speechless. He hadn't provoked this ancient Dragon King yet, but he was already attacking him.
Darys launched an attack, his speed reaching a startling level.
The weeping blood sword emitted an eerie red light, as if it could bring a wind of blood.
Viserys wanted to mount Sunfire to join the battle, but with time pressing, he drew his True Dragon Sword as well.
The battle between the two ignited fiercely. No one was observing this fight, only Sunfire, who circled anxiously in the sky.
Afraid that breathing Dragonflame would harm Viserys.
Darys's longsword was like a living thing in his hand.
Viserys leaped backward and also began to draw his longsword, the True Dragon Sword.
Viserys and Darys began to exert force together, the purple sword light and the blood-red sword light intertwined.
Viserys saw the longswords kiss, separate, kiss, separate.
This was a battle between dragon and dragon, silver armor and gold armor, purple sword and red sword.
A battle between the black-field red dragon and the gold-field red dragon, the ancient bloodline of Valyria.
Viserys had never encountered such a terrifying opponent; it was as if fanatical blood had been ignited within him.
Viserys had ignited the magic of blood and fire, possessing various talents.
And this Dragon King, Darys, relied on Blood Magic to achieve this power.
"Dyanna."
"Dyanna."
Darys attacked while calling out a name, a woman's name.
This young Dragon King was similar to Lady Stoneheart; having experienced the terror of the great explosion of Valyria, he was left with this single obsession.
Lady Stoneheart's obsession was vengeance; she was no longer as kind and tolerant as she had been in life, and her heart seemed to hold only the desire for revenge against those who had betrayed her and Robb.
And Darys's obsession was Dyanna.