Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

Despite the ship listing slightly due to water taking in from the port side, the rowers' shouts grew louder and louder. They disregarded their own lives and used all their strength to plunge the oars into the sea, propelling the battered Sea Serpent forward like a sharp sword.

The catapults on the enemy ship, the Temple Maid, launched fireballs again, trailing long plumes of smoke as they crashed onto the deck of the Sea Serpent. Several sailors quickly used wet sacks to extinguish the fire, their faces covered in soot as sparks flew everywhere.

Another violent impact came, but this time the heavy-footed Sea Serpent failed to inflict a fatal wound on its equally sized opponent.

But that was no longer a problem, as a Valerian warship following closely behind the Sea Serpent delivered a fatal blow to its midsection.

"You're welcome, Uncle!" On the deck, Weimond shouted excitedly toward Corliss while using his shield to deflect stray arrows.

"Keep it up, Wimund!" Corliss encouraged.

"The enemy has boarded!" the lookout warned. The warship, having lost speed, was quickly entangled by several warships from the Three Cities Alliance.

On the port side of the deck, countless grappling hooks with ropes were thrown onto the ship's side. The sailors wielded hand axes and machetes, desperately trying to cut the ropes, but the taut ropes were now hard and tough, and the axes and knives could only break a small strand of hemp rope fibers at a time.

A young sailor had just cut a rope when another grappling hook slammed down beside him with a whoosh. The sharp iron claw grazed his arm, tearing off a piece of flesh and leaving a bleeding wound. He groaned, gritted his teeth, and continued swinging his axe. But there were simply too many grappling hooks, and as the ropes were pulled tighter, the enemy ship drew ever closer.

Suddenly, a deafening shout erupted from the enemy ship, and dozens of enemy sailors leaped onto the deck via ropes. They wore only simple breastplates, but the scimitars they held gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

On the other side, on the sinking Temple Maiden, countless enemies frantically surged from the cabins onto the deck, brandishing all sorts of weapons as they jumped from the bow onto the Sea Serpent.

The sea serpent abruptly drew its curved blade from its waist, the blade whistling as it sliced ​​through the air: "Chop these bastards to pieces and feed them to the fish!"

The heavily armored guards were the first to charge, followed by the sailors and deck crew. Even the oarsmen in the cabins abandoned their oars, grabbed their short spears, battle axes, and scimitars, and rushed onto the deck to join the melee. The two sides clashed back and forth, broken blades and blood piling up on the deck, corpses constantly falling into the sea, and new enemies climbing onto the ship's side.

Driven to a bloodthirst, the Tyrosian pirates charged into the sea carrying their heavily armored guards. These soldiers, as heavy as iron cans, had no chance to struggle once they hit the water, and could only watch as the dark seawater quickly swallowed them. Meanwhile, the pirates swiftly surfaced and climbed back onto the ship's side.

The fighting on deck grew increasingly brutal. An old sailor from the Sea Serpent had his shoulder blade cleaved open by a scimitar. He groaned and fell to his knees, but then used his short axe to cleave open his enemy's calf, watching him scream as he rolled into the sea.

New ropes were constantly being thrown from the ship's side, grappling hooks gripping the railings tightly. More enemies surged forward like a tide, trampling over the corpses of their comrades. A deep gash was cleaved in the helmet of the captain of the royal guard. He roared and plunged his halberd into the chest of a bandit leader, the tip of the halberd emerging from his back, spraying blood. But the next second, three short spears simultaneously pierced his waist and abdomen.

The sailors in the front row formed a gun salvo with short spears. With a single, synchronized thrust, several sharp spear tips pierced the chests of the enemy boarding sailors in an instant. Warm blood splattered onto the deck, mixing with the seawater and emitting a strong fishy smell.

But the advantage lasted only a short time, and several sailors in the front row were soon struck by arrows and fell on the deck. On the lookout tower of a Mil ship, crossbowmen wielding three-shot repeating crossbows calmly loaded their bolts and continuously fired them down onto the deck of the Sea Serpent, suppressing the resistance on board.

Each twang of the bowstring was accompanied by a short, sharp scream, and a clear gap appeared in the spear formation. Enemies who had boarded seized the opportunity to push forward, brandishing their scimitars. The two sides instantly engaged in close-quarters combat, the sounds of scimitars clashing with spears, the piercing shrieks of metal scraping against metal, and the muffled groans of the dying mingling together.

Harvey grabbed the sailor who was about to load stones into the ballista's chute, then, ignoring the pain, shoved a flaming pitch can into it. He then pointed to the lookout tower housing the enemy crossbowmen and ordered, "Take them down!"

Before the words were even finished, the operator pulled the trigger, and a massive fire instantly erupted at the bottom of the lookout tower. The raging flames rapidly licked upwards, and from within the flames came the agonizing screams of enemy crossbowmen. The previously dense barrage of arrows abruptly ceased, and the pressure on the deck of the Sea Serpent instantly eased.

"My lord, it's all over!" Harvey shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice shattered by the clashing of weapons. As far as the eye could see, there were warships from both sides locked in boarding action.

"Hold on a little longer!" Corliss shouted. He desperately wanted the dragon to appear, but it was beyond his control.

His conspicuous plate armor made Corliss a crossbow bolt magnet on the battlefield, but fortunately, the armor was very reliable, allowing him to still swing his sword even with seven or eight arrows stuck in his chest and back.

On deck, the sailors were locked in fierce combat with the enemy, some piercing the enemy's chest with harpoons, while others clung to the enemy and rolled toward the ship's side.

The first mate's roar came from the port side, where the fighting was most intense. His scimitar was held tightly to the neck of a Mir pirate, his feet planted on a broken section of the ship's hull. Harvey followed his gaze and saw that the two ships were locked together in the waves, and the soldiers on both sides were fighting each other, practically stepping on each other's corpses.

The wooden deck, repeatedly soaked in blood, became slippery and difficult to traverse, causing men to slip and fall frequently, only to be pierced by short spears. The enemy's numbers continued to increase, advancing over the corpses of their comrades, while the sailors, with their backs to the masts, formed a final line of defense with their own flesh and blood.

"Stop reloading, just throw it!" Harvey shouted, grabbing a burning pitch can with his bare hands and hurling it at the enemy ship's deck. The can shattered upon impact with the debris-strewn deck, the black pitch instantly flowing and spreading, quickly igniting a large fire. Amidst the billowing smoke, the screams of enemy soldiers mingled with the crackling of wood, halting the charge.

Seeing this, the sailors around him followed suit, throwing the pitch cans next to them at the enemy ship's deck, while the enemy retaliated with a barrage of crossbow bolts at close range.

Black asphalt flowed everywhere like lava, and soldiers who came into contact with it immediately let out piercing screams. But the crossbow bolts also rained down on the ship's superstructure, and amidst the flying wood chips, several sailors who had thrown asphalt cans groaned as they fell from the edge of the superstructure.

Casualties rose sharply. The wooden railings of the ship's superstructure were riddled with holes by crossbow bolts, and the broken splinters and blood created a horrific scene. Harvey's arm was grazed by a stray arrow, and a deep wound that exposed bone was gushing blood, but he gritted his teeth, grabbed the last bit of bitumen can beside him, and lit the fuse with a burning torch.

Although the flames on the enemy ship's deck were not completely extinguished, they were suppressed by more soldiers using wet canvases. More enemy soldiers, wielding scimitars, roared as they charged across the fire line, their weapons gleaming coldly in the thick smoke.

The Sea Serpent was surrounded by enemy ships. Newly arrived enemy vessels couldn't even find a place to join the boarding action and had to moor alongside their own warships, using gangplanks to transfer troops to the Sea Serpent. The deck was gradually flooded by enemy forces, and the shouts of the soldiers were deafening.

Harvey watched the enemy soldiers surging onto the ship, a resolute glint in his eyes. He hurled the lit pitch can with all his might; the can arced through the air before landing precisely where the enemy was most concentrated. With a deafening roar, flames shot into the sky once more, engulfing the surrounding enemy soldiers along with the few remaining friendly forces.

But this did not stop the enemy's offensive; more enemy soldiers, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, charged forward, brandishing their scimitars. Halve gripped his weapon, riddled with jagged edges, and fought alongside wounded sailors and the lord's guards, the clanging of metal echoing incessantly.

"My lord! If the dragon doesn't come soon, we'll all die here!"

"I fucking know!" Corliss roared angrily as he cleaved one of the Tyrosian pirates in front of him to death.

To cover his comrades as they loaded their crossbows, Boatswain John was struck in the chest by three bolts simultaneously. He groaned and collapsed to his knees, his battle axe clattering to the ground, his vision blurring. At the ship's side, two young sailors were dragged towards the enemy ship, their ankles entangled in grappling hooks. Their desperate cries were swallowed by the clanging of weapons, leaving only a few short, agonizing screams. The sound of waves crashing against the hull seemed to be the most tragic backdrop to this carnage.

"Sir, where is the dragon? When will our dragon come!" A young sailor, clutching his bleeding arm, shouted hoarsely toward the ship's deck, his voice filled with despair and longing.

His companion had just been impaled on the deck by a short spear that pierced his chest, warm blood splattering all over his face. The sounds of fighting, screams, and clashing weapons mingled around him, almost swallowing his faint cry.

Between clashes, Corliss glanced at the sky; apart from sparse clouds, there was no sign of any dragon. He now seriously doubted his decision-making: that bastard Damon was just hungry and had no intention of playing such a big game; or that mysterious, ambitious scoundrel Reid was trying to use this opportunity to kill him; letting his innocent and kind son act with these two was simply a lapse in judgment…

In a daze, Corliss jerked his head to dodge the enemy's scimitar, and with a backhand slash, cut a deep gash in the man's neck. Warm blood splattered on his face, but he didn't even have time to wipe it away—three more Tyrossi pirates climbed over the ship's railing, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, their scimitars gleaming cruelly in the sunlight.

Suddenly, a series of urgent horn calls came from the direction of the ship's deck. Corliss's heart tightened, thinking it was a signal for reinforcements. But when he looked up, he only saw the lookout with an arrow piercing his throat, falling from the mast like a puppet with its strings cut.

Any hesitation at this moment could lead to total annihilation. Corliss could only grit his teeth and persevere. He roared, "Hold on! Hold on a little longer! When the dragons come, they'll be sorry!"

Before he could finish speaking, another piece of ship plank pierced by a scorpion crossbow flew past his ear and slammed heavily into the mast behind him.