Chapter 223: The Shackle Breaker
"Oh ho ho! Charge!"
The young giant, Boro, roared toward the sky, swinging his warhammer to clear the way.
Rhaegar's cold gaze swept across the battlefield. His black robe burned with flames as he led his army forward, breaking through the encirclement with unstoppable momentum.
The Lys City Guard was not small in number—somewhere between several thousand and ten thousand troops.
The streets and alleys nearby were completely blocked. Archers rained down arrows from above, while sword-and-shield soldiers formed barricades below.
Rhaegar fought his way through, relentlessly pushing north.
No one knew how long the chaotic battle had lasted.
His black robe was soaked in blood, and flames crackled and sizzled around him.
Suddenly, as he lifted his head, he saw a towering structure built from white stone. The sign above the entrance read: **"Rogare Bank."**
Breathing heavily, Rhaegar shouted, "Get inside! Fortune awaits us!"
"Charge!…"
The Dragon Guards' eyes lit up with greed as they rammed the doors open and stormed in.
Before the battle, Rhaegar had already planned how to divide the spoils.
No matter how much they looted, he would take 70%, while each individual could keep 30% for themselves.
Afterward, further rewards would be granted.
In Westeros, where everything was seized by the crown and rewards were scarce, following a prince to plunder Lys was an opportunity for unimaginable wealth.
Rhaegar followed the tide of warriors into the building, shaking off the blood dripping from his dragon-claw weapon, splattering the floor.
Deep down, he was already reaching out to the Devourer.
At this point in the invasion, he had already secured victory.
The Lys City Guard had begun to reorganize after the initial chaos and were now launching a coordinated counterattack.
He would let the Devourer incinerate them with a single breath of dragonfire.
**Boom… boom…**
Inside the building, the Dragon Guards had already slaughtered all the staff and discovered the underground vault where the wealth was stored.
They were trying to break through the specially reinforced black iron gate by force.
"Step aside! Let Boro give it a try."
Seeing that the Dragon Guards had been struggling with the door for a while, the young giant shoved them aside and ducked into the passageway.
With a mighty swing, his warhammer smashed against the black iron gate, sending echoes through the walls, shaking loose dust and debris.
**Boom… Clang…**
After dozens of relentless strikes, the black iron gate groaned under the pressure before finally collapsing with a resounding crash.
Along with it, the entire stone wall crumbled.
The young giant's hammer had shattered it completely, filling the basement with thick dust.
The Dragon Guards swarmed into the vault, and a dazzling golden glow illuminated the room.
Stacks of gold coins, each uniquely designed, were piled high in the corners like a mountain of treasure.
Dozens of chests lined the walls, their contents spilling over with melted gold bricks.
"Seven Hells… so much gold…"
Trangle was the first to rush inside, staring dumbfounded at the vast sea of treasure, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.
"Hurry up! Take everything!"
Someone shouted, and the Dragon Guards pounced like starving wolves, stuffing gold coins and bricks into their armor.
When their arms were full, they loosened their belts and crammed gold into their trousers.
Chests were pried open, revealing piles of glittering jewels and silver.
The first wave of looters sprinted out of the vault, each carrying dozens of pounds of gold.
More followed, taking turns in the frenzied plundering.
Within moments, all that remained in the vault were dusty footprints.
Even the chests themselves were carried away.
**Outside Rogare Bank.**
The Lys City Guard had arrived from all directions, completely surrounding the building.
A thousand archers lay in wait, bows drawn, arrows ready.
The bank's doors were tightly shut, yet from within came wild cheers, like the cries of frenzied demons.
By a floor-to-ceiling glass window, Rhaegar stood concealed in the shadows of the night, observing the scene outside.
A cold smirk appeared on his lips. "They actually dared to come. Not a single one is leaving alive."
**Whoosh—**
A violent gust of wind howled through the city, scattering the clouds and revealing slivers of moonlight.
A massive black shadow emerged in the sky, as if dragging a storm behind it.
**"Screeeech—"**
With an ecstatic roar, emerald dragonfire rained down, mercilessly engulfing the enemy ranks outside.
"Ahhh!"
"It's the demon dragon! Run!"
The Devourer circled the building, continuously spewing flames, carving a massive ring of green fire around it.
Where the dragonfire passed, corpses littered the ground, and agonized screams filled the air.
Nine out of ten Lys soldiers perished instantly in the inferno, dying swift and brutal deaths.
The few who managed to escape the direct blast were no better off—if they brushed against a burning corpse or a flaming structure, the green flames clung to them, devouring them alive.
The dragonfire burned like a relentless curse, igniting anything it touched.
Lucky or unlucky, it was hard to say.
They could only struggle in endless wails, watching helplessly as their flesh burned until death finally came.
The grand doors of the building swung open.
Rhaegar, his silver hair soaked in blood, gazed coldly ahead. His black robe billowed in the wind as he gripped his sword, surveying the sea of fire.
From the shadows, archers tensed, drawing their bows and letting their arrows fly.
*Swish, swish, swish…*
Arrows rained down like a storm, all aimed at Rhaegar beneath the towering gate.
"Hiss—screech—"
The Devourer streaked across the sky, unleashing dragonfire before the building, forming a searing green inferno.
Before the arrows could even reach their target, they ignited in the dragon's flames, melting into molten iron and ash.
Rhaegar raised his sword toward the towering structures around him and commanded in High Valyrian, "Dracarys!"
The Devourer, understanding his intent, roared and spewed dragonfire, setting the grand buildings ablaze. Some collapsed instantly, while others burned fiercely.
Within moments, the entire district was reduced to ruins and scorched earth.
Rhaegar strode through the blazing green dragonfire and shouted, "All troops, heed my command! Follow me—attack House Rogare's stronghold!"
House Rogare had built its stronghold separate from its bank, though the two were not far apart.
Beyond the burning building, a single turn down the street led straight to the Rogare estate.
Arriving at the location, Rhaegar kicked open the heavy wooden gate.
The Dragon Guard stormed into the courtyard after him.
The estate had already been struck by dragonfire—most of it lay in ruins.
House Rogare's members had fled long ago, leaving behind a considerable number of slaves, abandoned to their fate.
Rhaegar ordered his men to break the slaves' shackles and let them leave on their own.
Then, he led the search of the estate.
In their frantic escape, the Rogares had left behind vast amounts of wealth, now at the mercy of the rough and unrestrained Dragon Guard.
"Prince! We've found a treasure vault!"
A Dragon Guard soldier called out in excitement.
Rhaegar turned to look—it was a lavish, flowing-water pavilion.
As he approached, an unexpected change occurred.
The space bracelet on his wrist pulsed twice, emitting a low hum.
Startled, Rhaegar retrieved a glowing scroll from within the bracelet.
It was a **Mysterious Scroll**.
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow slightly and unfurled the aged leather parchment.
The scroll shimmered faintly, its lines forming a map with a marked location.
He compared the coordinates to his surroundings—it pointed directly to the flowing-water pavilion.
Recalling his past experience exploring the Blackfyre ruins, Rhaegar immediately understood.
There was an artifact from Old Valyria hidden within the pavilion.
A surge of excitement rose in his chest—an unexpected reward.
Stepping into the pavilion, he quickly spotted a hidden passage beneath a stone table.
A few Dragon Guards entered first, torches in hand, exploring the passage.
Moments later, an excited shout echoed from within.
"Prince! There are exquisite artifacts here—and a Valyrian steel sword!"
No sooner had the words been spoken than a Dragon Guard emerged, clutching an ancient longsword in both hands.
"Well done. Claim your reward when we return."
Rhaegar praised him, eyes burning with anticipation as he took the sword.
The weapon had a simple design. Its crossguard was sculpted into the shape of a dragon coiling around itself, with two tiny rubies set as its eyes.
*Shing—*
As he drew the blade, its surface gleamed with a chilling light, the signature rippling patterns of Valyrian steel shimmering along its length.
There was no doubt—
This was a Valyrian steel sword.
The next moment—
A notification echoed in his mind.
**"Exploration quest initiated. Target: Valyrian steel sword—'Truth.'"**
**[Truth]**
**Exploration Progress: 0.3%**
Seeing the progress bar appear, Rhaegar's lips curled into a smirk, his excitement surging.
No need to hesitate—he slung **Truth** across his back to maintain the quest's progress.
With a commanding voice, he ordered, "Loot everything quickly—we leave in ten minutes!"
He glanced at the sky.
A murky, dark gloom hung over the city. The crescent moon tilted at an angle.
Dawn was approaching—it was time to leave Lys.
---
**Half an hour later.**
**Lys Port.**
The scattered troops regrouped.
Rhaegar surveyed the men.
The Dragon Guard, the Second Sons, and the Knights of the Vale—all were bloodied from head to toe, their armor bulging with stolen treasures.
"We've lost a few hundred men," Rhaegar noted keenly, recognizing the absence of familiar faces.
Robb approached, his face and hair drenched in blood, speaking in a low voice.
"Many of our squads were ambushed. We barely fought our way out."
Rhaegar nodded in understanding. "Board the ships. We leave at once."
Starting with the Dragon Guard—who had reaped the greatest rewards—the soldiers filed onto the ships in an orderly manner.
Meanwhile, a large number of slaves gathered at the port, kneeling and begging to board the ships.
"Prince?"
Robb hesitated.
Rhaegar looked down at them.
The slaves were covered in soot and blood.
Some clutched forks and clubs—
Others carried severed heads of wealthy Lyseni.
After a moment of contemplation, Rhaegar raised his voice.
"If you seek freedom, claim it for yourselves! There are plenty of ships left untouched in this port—sail for Westeros! House Targaryen welcomes all who refuse to be slaves!"
After speaking, he turned his head and commanded, "Set sail. Leave one ship behind to slow down and allow the slaves' vessel to keep up."
Robb was filled with admiration and solemnly responded, "Yes, my prince."
Upon hearing this, the slaves were overwhelmed with excitement. They scrambled to jump into the sea, swimming toward the intact ships.
Many wept uncontrollably, bowing repeatedly.
They cried out, "Dragon King… Breaker of Chains…"
Hearing their shouts, Rhaegar's heart skipped a beat, a strange emotion rising within him.
He was not the compassionate type.
He simply despised the institution of slavery.
If the slaves were willing to fight for their own freedom, he was willing to give them a chance.
The warships sailed out of the harbor.
The Devourer and Gray Shadow arrived late.
Looking back, the once-prosperous Lys had been reduced to ruins.
Towering buildings had collapsed, raging fires consumed the streets, and the land was covered in scorched earth and wreckage.
After this battle, Lys would fall from the ranks of the leading Free Cities, sinking to the bottom.
It would take at least a decade for it to recover.
Standing on the deck, Rhaegar gazed into the distance.
A warm sun slowly rose from the horizon.
The first rays of sunlight scattered across the sea, dispelling the darkness and clearing the distractions in his heart.
Calling for the assembled Robb, Rhaegar's eyes were deep and unreadable. "I want to take a stroll through the Kingdom of the Three Daughters. You all will sail directly back to King's Landing."
"Prince…"
Robb was momentarily stunned, wanting to dissuade him.
Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively and said calmly, "Essos will soon witness the return of the Doom of the Dragon. A mere Lys is far from enough."
He gave Robb no chance to refuse.
The Devourer swooped down, its powerful gusts billowing the sails and propelling the warship far ahead.
The dragon's massive body skimmed the surface of the sea, its talons plunging deep into the water, splitting the waves into two foamy trails.
(End of Chapter)