Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

An open-air training ground on the west side of Casterly Rock, covered with fine sand, was now illuminated as bright as day by countless torches and lanterns, becoming an unexpected highlight of the banquet.

The commotion spread from inside the hall to this point, where nobles, holding wine glasses, formed a circle, their eyes fixed intently on the two people in the center.

Jaime Lannister had shed his magnificent outer robes, wearing only a soft leather tunic for ease of movement. His golden hair shimmered like molten gold in the firelight. He held a blunt training sword, his posture elegant and confident, like a young lion poised to pounce. Every glance, every step he took radiated Lannister pride and absolute confidence in his swordsmanship.

Opposite him, Euron Greyjoy was still dressed in dark clothes, a stark contrast to the surrounding gold and splendor. He held two slender light swords, which he twirled in his hands. He did not adopt the usual knightly stance, but instead slightly bent his waist, the tips of his swords pointing diagonally at the ground, his posture relaxed to the point of casualness, only his eyes were sharply locked on Jaime.

"Start!" someone shouted.

Jaime immediately launched an attack, his sword as swift as a viper's tongue, whistling through the air as it thrust straight for Euron's center—a classic Westerland swordsmanship, efficient and powerful. However, Euron did not parry. With an almost dance-like suppleness, his body slid to the side and back, his wrists twisting, and his two longswords wrapped around Jaime's blades like seaweed, skillfully deflecting the swift strike.

At the moment their weapons clashed, the One Piece system's ability—[Power Test - Lv1]—detected Jaime Lannister's various attributes.

Jaime Lannister – 266 AC (14 years old)

Strength: 19 (10)

Agility: 12 (10)

Stamina: 16 (10)

Spirit: 10 (10)

Command: 12 (10)

Charisma: 22 (10)

Dao Power Value: 1890

"Is this... the skill of a water dancer?" A person in the crowd who had been to Braavos on the other side of the Narrow Sea whispered.

James was slightly taken aback, then his attack intensified, his sword flashing like a waterfall, continuous and unending.

His steps were steady and powerful, each strike carrying the force to shatter a shield. But Euron's movements became increasingly unpredictable; he seemed boneless, always dodging the sword's edge with minimal effort at the last second. His movements were like paper fluttering in the wind—[Paper Drawing], unpredictable. In his hands, the two longswords were sometimes as powerful and heavy as giant axes, and sometimes as light and nimble as rapiers, switching freely between various sword styles, even incorporating a few unorthodox techniques from across the narrow sea.

Euron thought to himself: Jaime Lannister is stronger than me, but less agile. To defeat him, I must use my strengths: agile swordsmanship and footwork.

The two men wielded three swords, their clanging sounds filling the air and sparks flying everywhere.

Jaime's dazzling speed contrasted sharply with Euron's unpredictable agility. Euron wasn't in a hurry to attack; rather, he was orchestrating a dance of death, wearing down Jaime's stamina and patience.

Suddenly, Euron, in what appeared to be a backward movement, abruptly exerted force, his body springing forward like a spring, his two longswords tracing an uncanny arc, bypassing Jaime's parry—

The tip of his sword stopped abruptly in his right hand, lightly touching an inch in front of James's Adam's apple.

A hush fell over the entire arena. James froze, his movements stiffening. He could clearly feel the cold touch and the threat of death emanating from the blunt sword's tip. A flicker of disbelief crossed his azure eyes.

Euron slowly sheathed his sword, took a step back, and showed no sign of smugness in his eyes.

Jaime took a deep breath, the surprise fading from his face, replaced by the composure of a warrior. He tossed his blond hair and declared loudly, "Such a quick change of tactics! I've lost the first time!"

The second time, Jaime was more cautious, attempting to overpower Euron and force him into a direct confrontation. But Euron once again displayed his ghostly agility, slippery as an eel, always avoiding direct combat just before he could unleash his power, and then launching another unexpected attack, the tip of his sword striking the same spot at an unbelievable angle.

A fine sheen of sweat appeared on James's forehead.

The third time, Jaime unleashed almost his full power, his sword strikes as ferocious as thunder. But Euron seemed to anticipate all his movements, finding an opening amidst the storm of attacks, like a bolt of black lightning—

"bass!"

For the third time, the tip of the blunt sword hovered precisely at James's throat, motionless.

This time, the silence lasted even longer. Everyone could see clearly that this was no fluke.

Jaime Lannister stared at the sword tip pressed against his throat, then at Euron's calm, expressionless face. He intended to take a step back, but instead tripped and fell backward, half-lying on the sand and bursting into laughter—a laugh of utter surrender mixed with unbridled joy. He tossed aside his training sword, spreading his arms wide: "Enough! Enough! I surrender! Euron Greyjoy, did you steal your skills from the Drowned God's treasury? It's incredibly sinister!"

Euron smiled, but this time it was no longer a cold smile; it was a genuine, wild laugh. He reached out and helped Jaime to his feet. "Ser Jaime is too kind," he said humbly, "I rely on agility and skillful movement. On the battlefield, if we were both heavily armored, your strength and orthodox swordsmanship would easily shatter my bones. I would be the one to lose." He subtly gave his opponent a way out, while also pointing out the limitations of his own swordsmanship.

These words demonstrated both strength and respect for the Lannisters, drawing cheers from those around. Jaime patted him forcefully on the shoulder, his eyes no longer showing contempt, but only respect and keen interest in a strong person.

You defeated Jaime Lannister (age 14) and earned 80 points.

This spectacular competition, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples. The blood of the warriors was ignited.

"Damn! That was amazing!" Robert Baratheon's booming voice rang out first. He pushed through the crowd, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of encountering a rare prey. "Greyjoy! Come on, let's see what you can do against Robert! Let me see if your 'Water Dance' can dodge my warhammer!" (Although he didn't have a warhammer in his hand at the moment.)

Brandon Stark squeezed forward, his wolf-like eyes burning with fighting spirit: "The Northers also want to experience the swordsmanship of the Iron Islands! Euron, we can't let the Westerlands dominate!"

Even the usually composed Eddard Stark revealed a strong sense of curiosity and eagerness in his eyes.

In an instant, Euron Greyjoy, the second son of the Iron Islands who had previously been somewhat marginalized at the banquet, became the focus of attention for all the martial nobles.

They gathered around, no longer out of politeness or curiosity, but purely out of a desire to challenge a powerful opponent, and purely out of mutual respect between warriors.

Tyrion smiled contentedly as he looked at Euron, who had won, and his brother Jaime, who showed no disappointment or anger despite losing. Euron, meanwhile, spotted Tyrion through the crowd and held up two fingers in a victory sign.

Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Dawn, winked at his sister Ashara standing beside him and said, "I told you his fighting talent is absolutely no less than mine! And his looks are in no way inferior to the Lannister sons. What do you think? Haven't I found you a good husband?"

Ashara Dane's eyes sparkled, and her face flushed red, like a shy apple.