Chapter 58: The Faceless Man in the Dragonpit
King's Landing, Ruins of the Dragonpit
The Dragonpit was a massive, cavernous structure located atop Rhaenys's Hill in King's Landing. It had been constructed on the ruins of the Sept of Remembrance, which once stood there before the violent conflict between House Targaryen and the Faith Militant.
During that struggle, Maegor I Targaryen, mounted upon Balerion the Black Dread, had burned the Sept of Remembrance to ash with dragonfire. In that war, the core strength of the Faith Militant was nearly annihilated.
After consolidating his rule, Maegor ordered the construction of an enormous domed structure on that very site—the Dragonpit—to serve as the lair and confinement hall for the dragons of House Targaryen.
Following the Dance of the Dragons, the Dragonpit gradually fell into abandonment. Most dragons born afterward failed to reach full maturity, growing smaller and weaker with each generation. The last dragon to take to the skies from King's Landing was Morning, and even she eventually perished as time marched on.
"Snap…"
With the brittle crack of aged wooden planks, Jon appeared within this long-desolate land.
Before him loomed the broken dome of the Dragonpit. A flood of thoughts passed through his mind. This structure had once symbolized the supremacy of House Targaryen and the lingering majesty of Valyrian magic.
Now it stood hollow and decayed.
The once-grand dome had collapsed in sections, leaving behind jagged openings like wounds torn into the sky. Broken walls surrounded the perimeter. Blackened scorch marks still stained the stone; even after more than a century, the traces of riot and dragonflame remained disturbingly clear.
Few commoners dared to approach the place. Only tax-evading vagrants occasionally skulked near its outer walls. Even beggars refused to sleep within, convinced the grounds were cursed.
Historically, thousands had died here—whether during the Storming of the Dragonpit or later calamities such as the Great Spring Sickness. The land carried a heavy reputation of misfortune and death.
Though the massive bronze gates had long since rusted shut, deep cracks split the outer walls. After circling the structure, Jon slipped through one such fissure and entered.
He lifted his gaze toward the fractured dome, which resembled a colossal sinkhole. In his mind's eye, he could almost see dragons chained within, their roars reverberating through stone and air.
It was a pity.
The once-magnificent Dragonpit had become an empty carcass.
Upon one massive pillar, Jon spotted carvings reminiscent of stained glass imagery—depictions of dragons and dragonriders in glory. War and flame had eroded most of the detail, leaving only faint silhouettes.
Dust and rubble blanketed the ground. Each step produced a dull echo.
Jon had come here for two purposes.
Since Jory Cassel differed greatly from Samwell Tarly in temperament and destiny, Jon had never invested class-based artifacts into him before. Originally, Jon had considered altering Jory's tragic fate from the original timeline.
But after obtaining a certain item, he had conceived a different plan.
At that moment, Jon—or rather, Jory Cassel—wore a strange badge pinned to his chest. At its center was a circular skull emblem, surrounded by clockwise-rotating tentacles.
Summoner's Badge: Grants the wearer the abilities of a Summoner, including Zombie Summoning, Undead Warrior Summoning, and Skeleton Soldier Summoning (requires compatible magic staff).
The Dragonpit was saturated with lingering resentment and death. The concentration of Soul Energy here was extraordinarily dense—though imperceptible to ordinary people, it formed a subtle deathly aura.
If a necromancer from a high-magic realm discovered this site, they would treasure it.
Used correctly—combined with fresh flesh and blood—it could even spark an undead calamity.
Jon's objective was far simpler: harvest the Soul Energy to craft an undead-type summoning staff.
"Ano sa… are ya…"
As the incantation began, cold winds gathered around him—the visible manifestation of condensed Soul Energy.
Soon, a scepter resembling a charred and twisted rod formed in Jon's grasp. It was an empty undead staff, currently uncharged and visually unremarkable.
"Whoosh… howl…"
The chanting continued. The winds intensified.
Then came faint sounds—ghostly wails, distant howls, resentful whispers. Even Jon, hardened by countless deaths, felt a chill creeping along his spine.
The staff became heavier, as though invisible hands were stuffing spirits into it.
Undead Warrior Staff: Summons Undead Warriors. Undead Warriors possess high offensive capability but low defensive endurance. Combat strength exceeds that of Skeleton Soldiers but lacks the durability of Zombies. Requires a suit of armor as summoning medium. Ten charges.
Reading the system's evaluation, Jon felt genuine satisfaction. Though this was his first attempt at crafting such an item, success came on the first try.
It had consumed nearly 1,000 points of Soul Energy—but the resulting staff was highly practical.
In battle, this artifact could abruptly shift a duel into a four-against-one scenario.
Though fragile, Undead Warriors struck with the force of seasoned fighters.
And all Jon needed were suits of armor.
"You've been enjoying the spectacle, haven't you?" Jon said suddenly, turning his gaze toward a shadowed corner. "Has no one told you that watching a wizard cast spells is dangerous?"
"A man is merely curious about the boy's magic," came the strangely accented reply.
From the darkness stepped a figure with half-white, half-red hair.
Jaqen H'ghar.
"On the continent of Essos," he continued softly, "magic has been fading for many years."
Jon gave a short laugh.
"You reek of sorcery yourself, yet claim it vanished. Are you mocking me?"
He reached into the void calmly.
"The boy's soul and flesh are misaligned," Jaqen observed. "A man thought the boy might be a lost brother of the Faceless Men."
"Clang!"
Jon withdrew a suit of armor from storage and dropped it onto the stone floor.
With a sweep of the staff, the armor trembled violently. Gauntlets, breastplate, greaves, helm, and blade fused together under unnatural force.
Red light ignited within the visor.
An Undead Warrior stood assembled.
"What… is this thing?" A tremor entered Jaqen's voice.
"This is my Undead Warrior," Jon replied evenly. "You were curious. Now you know."
At his signal, the Undead Warrior advanced toward Jaqen.
"A man is not an enemy to the boy. There is no need for hostility."
"Unfortunately," Jon answered, "my mission is to deal with you—or the existence behind you."
The system's directive left no ambiguity.
In the distant memories of another world's flawed retelling, Jaqen had seemed less like a man and more like a mimic—an entity wearing faces.
"I advise you to reveal your true strength quickly," Jon said coldly. "Otherwise, you will die a miserable death."
He drew Dark Sister from the void.
The rippling patterns of Valyrian steel shimmered beneath the fractured dome.
Jaqen's expression shifted sharply.
"The boy bears this blade… Does the boy's true form carry Valyrian blood?"
He dodged the Undead Warrior's strike and vanished into darkness. A heartbeat later, his voice sounded behind Jon's left flank.
Steel rang out.
Though Jory's body had not undergone system enhancements, Jon's control allowed him to fight with precision.
Hearing the movement, Jon pivoted and struck.
Their blades collided repeatedly.
Jaqen wielded a short sword of common steel. Within several exchanges, its edge had begun to warp and notch under the relentless contact with Valyrian steel.
"If you continue hiding your power," Jon warned, stepping aside, "you will die."
He signaled again.
The Undead Warrior leapt—
—and split midair into three.
As the divisions occurred, streaks of blood-like energy marked where they separated.
The staff had summoned three Undead Warriors. Because only one suit of armor had been used, they had originally merged into a single vessel.
Now they advanced independently.
Under the shattered dome of the Dragonpit, surrounded by the lingering echoes of dragons long dead, steel and sorcery collided once more.
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