GOT King of Dragon

Rhaegar's youthful voice carried an air of absolute authority—no one dared to ignore it. 

Some of the braver wildlings slowly got up from the ground, trembling as they fixed their eyes on the massive dragon in the sky. 

Hunched over, they cautiously began collecting the charred remains of the bodies that hadn't been completely incinerated. 

Rhaegar, in a good mood at the moment, wasn't idle either. 

He pointed at a few other wildling leaders and said lazily, "Introduce yourselves. Why have you all gathered here?" 

He didn't care about their names, but he was deeply interested in the curse they spoke of. 

The Peregrine Tribe had already lost many people to a shadowy creature. Rhaegar had seen their bodies. 

These wildling tribes had likely faced attacks from the same kind of monster, forcing them to band together for survival. 

He wanted to learn the truth about this so-called curse. 

"Oh great divine one, your loyal servant is named Gron, Senzan, and Trangle…" 

The wildling leaders Rhaegar had singled out trembled all over, confessing like lambs to slaughter. 

Five wildling tribes had gathered in this valley. 

Of them, the leader of the White Pine Tribe had perished in dragonfire, as had one other wildling leader who had been swatted away like a fly. The remaining three were still alive and present. 

Rhaegar gestured for the Glutton to descend. The enormous dragon's landing stirred up a cloud of dust and debris, forcing the wildlings to shield their eyes. 

Rhaegar summoned one of the wildling leaders for questioning, demanding to know more about the so-called curse. 

The wildling with a thick beard, named Trangle, trembled with fear and spoke carefully: 

"The curse comes from the shadow. It silently takes the lives of free folk. You cannot kill it or catch it. The only way to deal with it is by offering living sacrifices." 

So, it really is a shadowy creature, Rhaegar thought, nodding to himself. He asked, "How many of these curses are there? Do they attack every tribe?" 

"There's only one curse," Trangle answered. "It roams the swamps and pine forests at night, searching for suitable prey." 

"Have you ever witnessed this shadow killing someone?" Rhaegar frowned. 

"Yes, many people have seen it emerge from the shadows and take lives." 

"It seems like this is indeed some kind of sinister monster," Rhaegar murmured, contemplating the gravity of the situation. 

A creature capable of killing while moving through shadows would be a terrifying existence no matter where it appeared. 

For now, it seemed confined to the Crabclaw Peninsula. 

But who could guarantee it wouldn't spread to the mainland? 

Rhaegar, with a dragon by his side, couldn't ignore such a threat. 

After a while, Fuski returned with the captives from the Peregrine Tribe. 

Wildlings from the White Pine Tribe were also pulled from the crowd and made to kneel separately. 

Rhaegar pondered for a moment before speaking coldly, "Bring those traitors forward. Let's use them to lure out the shadow creature." 

He needed to assess the creature's strength—and whether or not it feared dragonfire. 

The wildlings, savage and devoid of compassion, immediately obeyed the order. They dragged the traitors forward, including the beheaded Sand. 

Rhaegar remained seated on the dragon's back, watching from above. 

Below, the wildlings tied the traitors to a tree, extinguished the nearby campfires, and left only a patch of shadowy darkness. 

All that remained was to wait. 

According to the wildling leaders, the shadow creature visited almost every night, claiming lives within the tribe. 

This had driven the wildlings into a state of panic and unrest, eventually forcing them to unite. 

The five small tribes had formed a single larger tribe. 

They had begun raiding nearby settlements, stealing supplies, and capturing people. 

Though they didn't openly admit it, Rhaegar knew they were using their captives as sacrifices to the shadow creature to protect their own people. 

Time passed, minute by minute… 

By around 2 a.m., the mass of wildlings kneeling on the ground hung their heads low, consumed by fear and anxiety. 

Rhaegar, lying on the Glutton's back, had relaxed his tense nerves and was starting to feel drowsy. 

"Ah! The curse is here!" 

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, drawing everyone's attention. 

Rhaegar snapped his head up, looking in the direction of the sound. 

It wasn't coming from the area where the captives were tied beneath the trees. 

Instead, it came from the midst of the White Pine Tribe's wildlings. 

A female wildling shrieked in terror as the crowd immediately scattered, revealing the scene at the center. 

Rhaegar stood up and leaned forward to get a better look. 

A male wildling was sprawled on the ground, black, writhing tentacles emerging from the shadow beneath him and coiling tightly around his body. 

Nearby lay a corpse, blood streaming from its seven orifices. 

"Everyone, stand back!" 

Rhaegar ordered the wildlings to clear the area. He urged the Glutton forward, commanding, "Dragonfire!" 

The Glutton stared at the shadow with visible disdain, hesitating to approach. 

But at Rhaegar's command, the dragon reluctantly shook its massive body and unleashed a jet of dragonfire at the shadow from a distance. 

Boom— 

The dragonfire descended, its ghostly green flames blazing fiercely, dispelling vast swathes of shadow.

When the dragonfire subsided, all that remained was scorched earth, a deep crater burned into the ground.

The shadowy monster had vanished.

"Not dead?" Rhaegar looked around in confusion.

"Ahh…" 

Another scream rang out, this time from the direction of the wildlings of the Peregrine Tribe.

Rhaegar turned his head.

Tentacles extended from the shadows, rising from the ground to ensnare several wildling women and their children.

Before Rhaegar could command the dragonfire again, the tentacles burrowed into their victims' ears, noses, and mouths, draining their lives.

Rhaegar stared at the shadowy creature in shock.

To his astonishment, with every life the monster claimed, the shadows on the ground grew denser, and the tentacles thicker and longer.

"Dragonfire!"

With no time to dwell further, Rhaegar urgently commanded the Devourer to unleash its flames.

This time, the shadowy monster couldn't kill its captives in time.

As it retreated into the shadows, it was struck by the dragonfire.

The large expanse of shadow on the ground seemed to recoil in agony, writhing and trembling violently.

It tried to approach Rhaegar but was scattered by the relentless dragonfire from the Devourer.

Finally, with a sharp, ear-piercing screech, it disappeared into the nearby shadows.

"What *is* that thing?"

It had withstood the dragonfire. Rhaegar's eyes widened in disbelief.

The Devourer's dragonfire was no ordinary flame—its power exceeded that of most adult dragons, capable of melting stone.

Yet this monster had survived a direct blast of dragonfire and retreated into the shadows to escape.

It was far too bizarre.

Rhaegar was shocked by the shadow monster's peculiar nature.

It was the strangest and most otherworldly creature he had ever encountered.

But while the dragonfire had merely driven the shadow monster back, the wildlings were awestruck.

The ignorant wildlings fell to their knees, shouting praises to a divine savior.

Annoyed by the noise, Rhaegar gestured for the Devourer to silence them with a roar. He then shouted sharply, "I'm not a god! I am a Targaryen! Now, shut your mouths!"

In the crowd, Sapphire clutched Tormund's arm tightly, her eyes shining as she gazed at Rhaegar.

Her eyes were filled with admiration and awe.

Hearing him deny being a god, she quickly chimed in, "You can command a dragon—you're the Dragon King!"

Her cry sparked a wave of agreement, and the wildlings began chanting, "Dragon King! Dragon King!"

Rhaegar cast a glance at Sapphire, who had been the first to shout. He raised an eyebrow.

He was a descendant of the Dragon King, not the Dragon King himself.

But being called the Dragon King was better than being called a god.

Rhaegar looked down at the group of wildlings, who now cowered before him in fear and submission. A flicker of thought passed through his eyes.

He had promised to avenge the Peregrine Tribe.

A single wildling chief clearly wouldn't suffice.

Earlier, he had considered burning them all to ash in one fell swoop.

Now, he had a new idea.

The shadow monster was an anomaly.

It had just attempted to attack Rhaegar, which likely meant it had its sights set on him.

Rhaegar couldn't allow such a threat to exist.

Nor could he leave a creature that grew stronger by consuming life unchecked.

Killing the shadow monster would require the wildlings to risk their lives.

After a brief moment of thought, Rhaegar spoke in a commanding voice: 

"The curse has taken root on the Claw Isle, stealing your lives and forcing you into endless migration, unable to live in peace."

"I am the king's eldest son, a Targaryen prince. I command the fiercest wild dragon in the world, whose flames can burn anything to ash."

"Swear allegiance to me, and I will protect you from the curse."

"Serve me, and I will wield my dragon to drive out the curse and eradicate the terror at its source!"

---