Chapter 484

"Not done yet?" Aegor frowned in mild exasperation.

A great story should end at the right moment, and in Lady R’hllor's tale of apocalyptic calamity, the revelation about the true cause of the eruption of the Fourteen Flames would have been the perfect ending. Even the most thrilling, twist-filled narrative becomes cloying if it drags on too long—like an over-seasoned dish. "It’s obvious that you won that battle in the end," Aegor said, his tone pointed. "Otherwise, humanity wouldn’t rule the world today, and you wouldn’t be here telling me this story. Forgive my bluntness, but the process doesn’t seem all that important."

"You’re half right," R’hllor replied, her tone calm, unaffected by Aegor’s impatience. "Yes, I won in the end. But no, the process is crucial—arguably the most important part." She continued without pause. "I began researching and refining blood magic as a contingency, a trump card for the inevitable confrontation with my aunt. Beyond its unparalleled power, there was another key factor: the demigod bloodline I inherited gave me extraordinary vitality and regenerative capabilities. I rarely needed to test it, but based on my understanding of my own body, I was certain—so long as I wasn’t killed instantly, any wound, even the loss of a limb, would eventually heal and regenerate. What most would consider unthinkable self-mutilation was, for me, an acceptable price. That’s what allowed me to add my own flesh and blood to the list of spellcasting materials without hesitation."

"My descendants were entirely consumed in the first casting of the blood magic, as you might expect. But you’ve probably already figured out: when it comes to the purity and potency of bloodlines, none could surpass me, their immortal progenitor. With no other options left, it fell to me to use my own body."

That’s insane. I like it... No, Aegor didn’t like it. If she’d known from the start that she had limitless regeneration, why sacrifice her innocent descendants first? Wouldn’t it have been better to start with herself and keep her descendants alive as reinforcements? If that had been the case, today’s fight against the White Walkers might have had an army of dragonriders to rely on, rather than a ragtag group of mortals.

Aegor clenched his fists, resisting the urge to voice his frustration. He reminded himself that he was far out of his depth—this was a clash of titans, a realm far beyond his understanding. For someone like R’hllor, even a host of lower-level reinforcements might be less valuable than keeping her own body in optimal condition.

...

"As an expert in invading other realms, that massive demon had clearly experienced its fair share of ‘interrupted crossings.’ It wasn’t the first time it had been caught mid-transit. Despite losing a third of its body—a pitiful state—it responded with impressive composure. It cast spells to stem the flow of its bodily fluids and energy, stabilizing itself before launching an immediate attack. Its aim was to eliminate me, the greatest threat in its path, so it could recover or reopen the portal."

"Though I possessed immense power, my combat experience was lacking. For all my endless years, this world never offered opponents strong enough to hone my skills. The demon, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Who knows how many worlds it had conquered or destroyed? Even in this world, where its power was suppressed to match my level, and even gravely injured with only half its strength remaining, it overwhelmed me with savage ferocity, decisiveness, and combat techniques far beyond my comprehension. From the very first exchange, I was forced onto the back foot."

R’hllor paused and glanced around. The dreamscape was beginning to show signs of instability. "We don’t have much time left, so I’ll skip the details and focus on the conclusion—the key points. The situation was this: though I had amassed knowledge and abilities over my endless years, most of it was useless in the face of the demon’s overwhelming strength. Tricks and petty tactics were meaningless. After narrowly surviving two of its energy strikes and sustaining injuries, I adjusted my mindset. I stopped hesitating and began treating it as my ultimate foe—a stand-in for the most terrifying enemy I could imagine: my father’s sister."

"I bit through my tongue and sliced open my skin, using my own blood to fuel my spells. The unparalleled power of my half-dragon, half-divine bloodline allowed me to regain the upper hand almost immediately. But the demon’s resilience and magical resistance were equally astonishing. Using small amounts of blood only gave me a slight edge—not nearly enough to end the battle. And my blood wasn’t infinite." She extended one hand, pale and delicate, making a gesture. "In the second phase of the fight, I let go of all hesitation. I began sacrificing my own body, pushing my attacks to their utmost limits."

"Though I lack wings, I’ve long mastered flight through magic. Legs are unnecessary for walking, so..." She gestured toward her feet and knees. "I started with my legs—the blood, muscle, bone, and any part that could serve a purpose."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the lower half of her body—hidden beneath her flowing gown—disintegrated into motes of light, leaving only her torso behind. The sudden transformation startled Aegor, who took an involuntary step back.

"Next came my arms," R’hllor continued without hesitation. "While gestures enhance spellcasting, they aren’t strictly necessary." She raised her remaining limbs, and as she finished speaking, her arms dissolved into light as well. In mere seconds, the once-beautiful woman was reduced to a half-bodied figure—a gruesome sight that would haunt any man’s nightmares.

"Lady R’hllor, please!" Aegor shut his eyes tightly, refusing to look any longer. He was terrified of developing a permanent fear of women. "Just tell me! No demonstrations! I can imagine it perfectly well!"

"Weren’t you chasing after me earlier?" R’hllor’s tone turned playful, a hint of schadenfreude in her voice, as if she were relishing this moment of revenge for his earlier audacity. But she didn’t dwell on it. "Fine, as you wish... Open your eyes. I don’t intend to scare you awake. By now, you should have a clear understanding of the intensity of that battle. In short: the demon was a ferocious, powerful opponent. To defeat such a being, I had to outmatch its savagery and strength. Relentless, increasingly destructive blood magic battered its damaged body until I finally destroyed both its form and its soul. By the end, I was no longer recognizable as human—a bloodied, mangled monster teetering on the edge of death. I had no strength left to deal with the remaining minor demons. I barely managed to escape to a hidden refuge to recover."

...

"Four hundred years have passed since that apocalyptic event, and I have yet to fully recover," R’hllor concluded. "The demon’s final attack inflicted unexpected damage on me—its strange, vile energy seeped into my blood and magic, hindering my regeneration. Though I’ve regained enough strength to survive, I am far from returning to full health. And now, I must divert my focus to deterring potential threats... including the Cold God."

...

"One question remains," Aegor finally said after a moment of thought. "As the so-called Child of Prophecy chosen by you, after all I’ve done to stave off humanity’s enemies, is my reward truly just a warning and a story?"