Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 458 Kumakao—Death!

When the first outer wall, built of red sandstone, was finally breached by the continuous bombardment of catapults and the Dothraki's fearless charge, the defenders had no choice but to retreat behind the more fortified second granite wall.

The Dothraki frenzy did not stop.

After paying an even heavier price, filling the moat with countless corpses and piling them up at the foot of the city walls, the second wall was also on the verge of collapse. The defenders retreated again, finally retreating to the innermost third wall, which was made of black marble.

Standing atop a mountain of his own soldiers' corpses, with several new wounds on his body, Kumaka gazed at the last barrier before him, which still stood but seemed on the verge of collapse. A cruel and triumphant smile finally appeared on his lips.

Victory seemed to be just around the corner.

Kumaka turned to the few remaining Blood Oath Guards around him, pointed to the nearby core area of ​​Qarth, and let out a maniacal laugh, a laugh filled with a desire for plunder and destruction.

"Go!" Kumokao roared, "Have all cavalry prepare to enter the city at any moment!"

Immediately afterwards, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, Kumaka announced the fate of the city after its fall, every word imbued with the cruelty of the grassland laws: "Listen! When this city is breached..."

"Kill all the men! Leave no one alive!"

"After stripping all the women naked for our pleasure, they will all be sold into slavery, along with the children!"

"Take all their possessions! Every piece of gold, every jewel!"

"Burn all their wood! Let the flames light up the whole sky!"

"Tear down this cumbersome stone house!"

Kumokha looked around his khalasar and made his final declaration: "Let everyone know what the consequences of rebelling against us will be!"

This terrifying declaration spread like a plague among the Dothraki, igniting even more frenzied shouts and giving the Qarthians, trapped in the inner city, the call to counterattack!

Behind the innermost black marble gate of Qarth, Euron Greyjoy stood silently. Behind him stood a thousand Qarthian cavalrymen in neat formation and eight hundred elite Ironborn soldiers wielding battle axes; the air was thick with the sounds of leather, steel, and the restless breaths of warhorses.

Euron stood silently behind the last gate, his gaze sweeping over the cavalry and eight hundred Ironborn behind him. A cold smile suddenly appeared on his lips. He smiled faintly, his voice clearly reaching the ears of every soldier: "Now, it's our turn."

The sky was torn apart by two enormous shadows.

Youlun has two dragons.

The emerald green flames instantly ignited, exploding into surging seas of death, accompanied by piercing screams and eerie firelight soaring into the sky.

The Shadow Dragon, carrying its master Euron, flew out of the city like a giant black arrow released from a bow. Its roar shook the heavens and the earth, drowning out all the noise on the battlefield.

Below, the raging wildfire and the roar of the descending dragon caused a tremendous uproar, like a dazzling beacon, attracting the attention of Khal and his most elite Blood Oath Guards who were directing operations from the rear. Khal looked up, his bronze face showing disbelief and astonishment for the first time.

"dragon!"

On the vast grasslands, an ironclad rule has been passed down through the ages: infantry cannot contend with cavalry, and ordinary cavalry cannot contend with the swift and elusive Dothraki cavalry.

But what poured out of the open city gates of Qarth at this moment was not just cavalry.

Leading the charge were the camel cavalry and the integrated cavalry, who, like the first wave, tried to stabilize their position.

What truly made the Dothraki's pupils shrink was the sight that followed—three colossal serpents, as if crawling out of ancient mythology, covered in obsidian-like scales, swam out at an astonishing speed! Their massive bodies plowed through the ground, causing the earth to tremble.

Even more baffling is that each giant snake's thick tail is connected by a rope as thick as an arm to a string of hollow, bizarre vehicles that resemble giant wooden boats!

Inside these wooden boats were the eight hundred bloodthirsty warriors from the Iron Islands!

With knives and axes in hand, their bodies swayed with the rocking of the wooden boat, but their eyes held only a calm killing intent and a thirst for blood, waiting for the next moment to drink it!

The city gates swung open, and the surprise attack force, composed of mythical creatures and humans, surged forth like a flood bursting its banks.

Three giant serpents, moving with a speed disproportionate to their enormous size, dragged the wooden boats, creating a mobile fortress as they crashed into the chaotic Dothraki army.

The eight hundred Ironborn in the wooden boat seized the opportunity to slash fiercely, their battle axes mercilessly hacking at the Dothraki who rushed past and tried to charge, accurately striking the horses' legs, or directly cleaving the riders off their backs into the dust!

This completely unpredictable tactic instantly tore a bloody and chaotic hole in the Dothraki's proud cavalry torrent.

A piercing shriek that seemed to tear through the sky echoed from the horizon.

A massive shadow plummeted down like a meteor, tearing through the clouds and carrying the scent of death.

The shadowy long-winged dragon, its wingspan large enough to block out the sunlight, its scales gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen in the setting sun. The wind pressure generated by its dive flattens the tall grass on the grassland, as if an invisible hammer is slamming into the earth.

The Dothraki didn't even have time to draw their scimitars.

A mournful neigh mingled with the cracking sound of bones breaking as the pterosaur's claws, powerful enough to crush rocks, dug deep into the horse's belly. The startled warhorse reared up, lifting itself and the Dothraki on its back off the ground.

The Dothraki gripped the reins tightly as they soared into the air, their knuckles turning white from the effort, but all their struggle seemed futile in the face of the power of the ancient predator.

They rose higher and higher, the scenery below rapidly shrinking into blurry patches of color. At this dizzying height, the pterosaur suddenly lowered its head, revealing dagger-like, interlocking teeth. Without hesitation, without pause, its gaping maw precisely bit into the Dothraki's upper body.

"Crack! That was the sound of the breastplate shattering, mixed with an even more grating chewing sound. Blood poured down like a torrential rain, drawing a scarlet arc in the setting sun. The Dothraki's legs remained in a riding position, and with the pterosaur's release of its jaws, his mangled body plummeted straight down."

The shredded entrails and severed intestines trailed long lines through the air, like a blood-red banner. The half-corpse tumbled through the air, growing smaller and smaller, before finally crashing heavily onto the grassland below, splashing a shocking pool of red.

The shadowy long-winged dragon let out a triumphant roar, swallowed the flesh and blood in its mouth, and with a flap of its wings disappeared into the depths of the clouds, leaving behind only a rain of blood falling from the sky and the lingering aura of death.

All the Dothraki, while wary of the cavalry charging into their ranks, glanced at the sky.

The shadowy long-winged dragon once again pierced through the clouds, like a javelin thrown by the Grim Reaper, stabbing straight down from the sky with a clear target—Kumokao, who was surrounded by layers of elite Blood Alliance guards.

Kumokao's reaction was incredibly swift. He roared and charged at the dragon's head with the Stardust Scimitar given to him by Euron. The Blood Guards around him, like an enraged swarm of bees, spun a web of deadly blades with their Arak Scimitars, attempting to strangle the overlord of the sky.

All resistance appears so futile in the face of such an absolute disparity in power.

In the blink of an eye.

Flying Shadow's claws pierced through the Blood Alliance guards who tried to block its path as easily as tearing silk, and with a sweep of its tail, men and horses fell to the ground. Euron had not completely left the dragon's back; the twin blades in his hands drew two chilling arcs in the sunlight. These were not flashy moves, but simply a display of pure, extreme speed and power.

As the blade flashed, hot blood shot into the sky like a fountain.

Euron killed Kumaka, his figure appearing and disappearing like a ghost across the plains. With a swift stroke of his blade, he killed all of Kumaka's closest and bravest blood allies. The entire process was faster than the human eye could perceive, as if a storm had passed, leaving only severed limbs and momentary silence.

As the smoke and dust cleared, Euron's figure became clear again.

He stood atop the dragon's neck, holding Zhekokao's head—a head with bristling beard and wide-open eyes—high in his hand, so that all the Dothraki on the battlefield could see the final form of their leader.

The next moment, his voice boomed like thunder, echoing across every corner of the battlefield: "Kumokao is dead!"

This declaration ignited the entire battlefield.

On the city walls, all the defenders erupted in a deafening cheer, slamming their spears into the ground and striking their shields with their swords, chanting wildly, wave after wave of shouts: "Kumocao is dead!"

"Kumokao is dead!"

These countless voices converged into an irresistible spiritual torrent, utterly crushing the Dothraki's last fighting spirit.

They stared in horror at Kao's raised head, at the figure standing proudly on the dragon's back like a god of war; the pillars of their faith and courage crumbled in an instant.

The collapse has begun.

Beneath the gates of Qarth, the battle collapsed in an instant amidst the roars of Kumakao's head, dragons, and wildfire.

The army was defeated like a mountain.

Faced with the infernal flames descending from the sky and the dragon's roar tearing the heavens apart, even the bravest Dothraki warriors had their will utterly crushed. Fear spread like a plague throughout Khalasar.

Only a very few astute or lucky cavalrymen, in despair, abruptly turned their horses around and fled the land that had become a slaughterhouse, leaving their comrades and glory behind.

Most of the Dothraki, those warriors who had wielded Arak scimitars and sworn to raze stone houses, perished forever on the battlefields of this foreign land. Their corpses, mingled with broken scimitars and fallen warhorses, covered every inch of land from the city walls to the plains.

With the warriors' demise, the elderly, women, and children remaining in the rear camp with the tribe lost all protection and hope. They silently emerged from their tents, faced the majestic black city, and knelt in surrender, awaiting the conquerors' judgment on their fate.

Looking around, tens of thousands of Dothraki, who once roamed the plains and struck fear into the hearts of many city-states, now lay dead beneath the gates of Qarth.

Their blood soaked the sand, and their dreams and ambitions, along with that Stardust Scimitar, lay dormant here.