Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

The world around Samwell spun wildly, a kaleidoscope of shifting colors that blurred together.

Brilliant, prismatic light swirled everywhere, yet nothing could be clearly seen.

It was as if he were falling endlessly down the interior of a great cylindrical tunnel—falling and falling, with no end in sight.

He didn't know how long it had been.

Perhaps a month. Perhaps a year. Perhaps even longer…

Eventually, Samwell felt the descent slow.

He found himself immersed in what appeared to be a luminous sea.

The flowing waters churned and surged around him, creating breathtakingly beautiful yet perilously dangerous waves.

Samwell quickly realized this wasn't an ordinary ocean.

It was a sea composed of pure magical elements.

This was the Sea of Elements.

Samwell recalled what the Red Priestess had once told him during his magical training: the Sea of Elements was the source of all magic.

Existing beyond the boundaries of the known world, it was something mortals could neither see nor reach.

It was not fixed in place, constantly drifting closer to and farther from the world.

This shifting proximity was what caused the tides of magic to rise and fall.

For mortals to wield magic, they first had to learn how to commune with the Sea of Elements.

Samwell had sensed its presence many times before but had never imagined he'd one day find himself within it.

It seemed that killing the Night King and the subsequent explosion of that strange altar had somehow thrown him into this magical sea.

Or more accurately, it had brought his spirit or soul into the Sea of Elements.

Samwell could still vaguely feel the existence of his physical body and sensed that he could return to it if he wished.

But having come this far, Samwell wasn't about to leave empty-handed.

He had an unshakable feeling that the answers to many of his long-standing questions lay within this place.

Still, he couldn't ignore the possibility that this phenomenon wasn't an accident—that someone had orchestrated it.

If that were the case, he'd have to remain vigilant.

There could be traps hidden within this sea.

Samwell cautiously surveyed his surroundings, but all he could see were the colorful currents of elemental energy, occasionally bursting into dazzling but lethally dangerous "waves."

There was no sign of life.

For ordinary living beings, this elemental sea was an unimaginably hostile environment.

The chaotic energy could easily shred a mortal to pieces.

Even Samwell, with his extraordinary mental fortitude, could feel the immense danger pressing in on his spiritual form.

Avoiding the most turbulent currents, he carefully ventured deeper.

In this disorienting realm, directions like north, south, east, and west held no meaning. He couldn't even distinguish up from down.

The ever-shifting, vibrant surroundings offered no clues or landmarks to guide him.

As time wore on, the dazzling elemental displays began to lose their charm, becoming monotonous and even nauseating.

Frustration and anxiety began to creep into his thoughts.

"Who's there?"

So, when he glimpsed a fleeting figure in the distance, Samwell's heart leapt with excitement.

But the figure immediately turned and fled.

"Hey! I mean no harm!"

Samwell called out, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

Yet the figure showed no signs of stopping, fleeing as if it had encountered a terrifying predator.

Separated by chaotic streams of energy, Samwell gave chase for a while but eventually lost sight of the figure.

All he could discern was that it seemed to have a strange tail, like that of a "lizard-man."

Samwell was perplexed. He had never seen such a creature before, so why would it be so afraid of him?

With no other choice, he resumed his exploration.

---

In the Sea of Elements, there was no day or night. At first, Samwell tried to estimate how much time had passed, but as the hours—or perhaps days—blurred together, he lost track.

He began to worry about the state of Westeros.

While his spirit wandered this sea, his body was likely in a deep sleep.

People probably thought he had been gravely wounded in his battle with the Night King, rendering him unconscious.

Dany, Margaery, and Nathalie were likely heartbroken.

However, Samwell felt assured that the Seven Kingdoms would remain stable.

After all, the threat of the White Walkers has been eliminated, and because Caesar led mankind to win this epic war and ended the Long Night, his name will surely spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms and become the object of everyone's praise and worship.

In such a situation, no idiot would dare to jump out and cause trouble.

Even in his absence, his eldest son, Octavian, could ascend the Iron Throne without issue.

The Small Council was filled with trusted officials he had handpicked—more than capable of managing the realm and ensuring order in the aftermath of the war.

With this reassurance, Samwell pushed aside his worries and pressed onward.

---

The monotonous surroundings of the elemental sea remained unchanged. Its beauty had long since lost its luster, leaving only a sense of fatigue and unease.

If anyone stayed here too long, they'd likely go mad.

Samwell, however, maintained his composure. Partly because he hadn't been here long, and partly because he could feel his power growing at an astonishing rate.

On his mental attribute panel, his strength and agility remained unchanged, but his mental stat had already surpassed 100 and was climbing rapidly toward 200, 300, and perhaps even beyond 1,000.

The effects were undeniable. Samwell wasn't sure how powerful he'd become—he only knew his body brimmed with overwhelming energy, so immense it even unnerved him.

He suspected this surge in strength wasn't solely due to the Sea of Elements.

Rather, it was because he had led humanity to victory against the White Walkers, ending the Long Night.

Now, the people of Westeros—First Men, Andals, and Rhoynar alike—revered him with almost religious fervor.

This adoration, amplified by his perceived "sacrifice" of falling into a coma after the battle, transformed into a subtle spiritual energy that flowed toward him.

Though individually weak, the collective faith of countless souls was incredibly potent.

Samwell theorized that this was the so-called power of faith.

And it dawned on him that this was likely what the Red God, R'hllor, had been seeking all along.

Perhaps the Long Night, the White Walkers, and the eternal winter had all been orchestrated to harvest this power.

---

Samwell's musings were interrupted as he adapted to his growing strength.

He discovered that as his spiritual power continued to grow, the faint whispers he had heard before completely disappeared, and the violent undercurrents in the elemental sea were no longer as dangerous and deadly in his eyes as they had been at the beginning.

Additionally, Samwell feels his connection to Westeros is growing stronger.

Sometimes, he could even "hear" his people praying and worshiping him.

Samwell also realized that he seemed to be transforming into a "God" step by step.

When his spiritual attribute broke through 1,000, his strength seemed to have made a qualitative leap, and the elemental sea in his eyes gradually changed...

The elemental undercurrent was no longer an obstacle; he could even see the scenes far away through the brilliant light.

So, he immediately locked onto a few figures.

One of them was an old friend.

With a resounding roar, Samwell accelerated, his spirit form transforming into a blazing golden streak that tore through the turbulent sea.

Ahead, a harpy-like creature shrieked in terror and tried to flee.

Though swift, it was no match for Samwell.

With a mere gesture, the entire Sea of Elements seemed to tremble.

Violent currents surged and coiled, cutting off the harpy's escape.

Seeing no way out, the creature adopted a servile demeanor, turning back to bow respectfully.

"Lord Caesar, spare me! Don't kill me! We went to great lengths to help you back in Ghiscari!"

"Oh?" Samwell halted, a smile playing on his lips. "Funny, I recall you harpies attacking me at every turn in Slaver's Bay."

"You misunderstand us!" the harpy protested. "Think carefully—did we ever truly harm you? On the contrary, didn't you reap great rewards in Slaver's Bay? Even the visions we provided gave you many hints, didn't they?"

Samwell appeared thoughtful before relaxing his stance. "Alright. I'll give you a chance to explain. What exactly were you trying to do, and what hints were you offering?"

The harpy let out a sigh of relief and began cautiously:

"It all starts with the Sea of Elements. Legend has it that tens of thousands of years ago, during the height of a magical tide, one man gained the ability to commune with this sea…and thus became the world's first wizard. Some say that this man is from Yi Ti, some say that he is from Valyria, and some say..."

"Get to the point!" Samwell interrupted impatiently.

"Yes, yes," the harpy-woman stammered, quickly condensing her explanation.

"In short, sorcery began to spread across the world, evolving into countless schools of magic and producing innumerable powerful sorcerers. Back then, there were no gods—only sorcerers so mighty that, at the height of the magical tides, they could move mountains, reshape rivers, or even destroy the heavens and earth. They were gods in all but name.

But all of that vanished when the magical tides receded.

The sorcerers, to their horror, discovered that it became increasingly difficult to commune with the Sea of Elements. Their spells weakened over time, and what were once world-shattering powers degenerated into mere parlor tricks.

This triggered widespread panic and despair. Eventually, the magical tides returned after thousands of years, and the sorcerers, overjoyed, found themselves regaining their lost might.

This cycle repeated several times, prompting sorcerers to study how to bypass their reliance on the tides and directly enter the Sea of Elements. They hoped this would make them truly eternal and divine.

Eventually, someone succeeded. By constructing an altar, they managed to discover a gateway into the Sea of Elements.

They thought it was the entrance to paradise. Little did they know, it was a doorway to hell."

The harpy-woman sighed heavily, her tone laced with bitterness. After a moment, she continued:

"You've probably seen it for yourself: the Sea of Elements is no utopia. It is vast and boundless, filled with turbulent elemental currents that make survival impossible for weaker beings.

More importantly, while entering this place is easy, leaving is nearly impossible."

"Nearly impossible to leave?" Samwell frowned.

"For someone like you, it's not quite as difficult," the harpy-woman clarified. "You're unimaginably strong, and you still have your physical body providing a coordinate anchor. Returning would simply require a… payment of sorts."

Samwell considered asking what this "payment" might be but decided against it. For now, he wasn't in a hurry to leave and opted to listen further.

"The first group of sorcerers who entered the Sea of Elements never anticipated this. They thought they had reached a paradise where they could continue cultivating their power and ascend to godhood.

But soon, they realized that training here wasn't much faster than in the mortal world—and worse, they had to constantly avoid the deadly elemental currents.

The days here were monotonous and oppressive, like an eternal prison sentence.

Some tried to return to the mortal world, but that was when they discovered they couldn't.

Fear spread like wildfire among them. Some went mad, some turned on each other, and others wandered the Sea of Elements aimlessly, hoping to find an escape…

Until the magical tides surged again. During this time, the Sea of Elements drew closer to the mortal world in a certain sense. That's when someone discovered they could communicate with mortals…"

Samwell chuckled.

"And then you poor, trapped wretches were mistaken for gods?"

"Ahem, yes." The harpy-woman seemed a little embarrassed as she continued:

"We tried to use this newfound communication to find a way out of the Sea of Elements. Over time, someone discovered that mortals' worship generated a sort of feedback energy—something that could enhance our power. We call it 'faith energy.'

At first, it was a glimmer of hope for escape, but it quickly became a path toward ruin.

In the beginning, we only spread magical knowledge and established cults to gather followers and harvest faith energy.

But eventually, one terrifying individual discovered a far more efficient way to amass faith—

By manufacturing fear."

The harpy-woman glanced around nervously, as though afraid of being overheard. After confirming they were alone, she lowered her voice and added:

"Or, more specifically, by creating the Long Night."

Samwell's expression darkened, his suspicions confirmed. He said bluntly, "The person you're talking about—is it R'hllor?"

The harpy-woman nodded.

"Yes. That's what He calls Himself now. But He's had many names.

The Red God. The Lord of Light.

And,

The Night Lion."

(End of Chapter)