Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"The masters call the bear 'Pluto,' the lion 'Hades,' and the elephant 'Angela.' The previous brown bear was known as 'Pluto the Twenty-Seventh' before it died under the spears of gladiators. This black bear inherited the name, becoming Pluto the Twenty-Eighth," Missandei whispered, explaining to Dany.

Dany pointed at the young girl with short black hair slowly walking out from the tunnel. "What's her name? What does she do?"

The girl, about the same age as Missandei and no older than ten, had short black hair, pale skin, and average features. Her chubby cheeks bore faint intersecting scars, and her squinty eyes gave her an unassuming look.

"Her name is 'Wretched Girl.' She's an assassin trained and owned by Master Grazdan mo Ullhor, as well as a skilled gladiator," Missandei replied.

"'Wretched Girl'?" Dany murmured under her breath. "That fat pig must be confident in his slave-training skills to give her a name like that."

Wretched Girl was barefoot, wearing a linen shirt tightly bound at the waist by a belt that held a short sword about 30 centimeters long. She wore loose, puffed trousers that allowed for ease of movement.

While they spoke, the announcer had stepped away, and the match in the arena had begun—an utterly mismatched fight.

Wretched Girl seemed to balance all her weight on one foot while the other barely hovered a few centimeters above the ground. Her hand gripped the sword, pointing it at the massive black bear.

"A Water Dancer!" Ser Jorah gasped in recognition.

The three-meter-tall black bear, its massive size dwarfing the tiny girl, paid her no mind. The three "sugarcane" appetizers it had just devoured did little to satisfy its hunger. Instead, they seemed only to ignite its burning appetite. It roared, opening its blood-soaked jaws wide and lunging at the girl, ready to bite her in one snap.

But Wretched Girl was no helpless child tied to a stake. Not only could she dodge, but her movements were swift and precise.

Dany barely saw her move. One moment, the bear's jaws snapped shut on thin air, and the next, the girl had sidestepped, letting the massive beast bite into the soft earth, leaving a crater the size of a basin.

What followed, however, was a scene Dany could finally catch: the girl moved like a cat, leaping onto the bear's massive paw. She sprinted up its forearm as if running on level ground, her speed akin to a gust of wind. In the blink of an eye, she reached the back of the bear's neck and drove her sword downward.

"No!" Whitebeard exclaimed in alarm, his face pale. "She's too small and weak—the short sword can't pierce the bear's spine—"

His warning came too late. The sword had already struck, but the outcome was worse than he feared. The blade seemed to hit bone, barely sinking into the flesh. The bear let out an enraged roar, shaking the ground with its thunderous sound. At the same time, its massive paw, the size of a cauldron lid, swung back toward its own neck.

"Ah!" Dany cried out in horror.

But before her scream could echo, the girl had already moved. Like a fallen leaf caught in a gust, she avoided the deadly swipe and drifted in a strange arc to land directly in front of the bear's face.

The fall took barely a second, but in that moment, silver flashed three times.

"ROOAAARR!" The black bear bellowed in agony, covering its face with one paw as dark blood oozed from behind it, staining its fur. Its other paw flailed wildly, swiping at the air as if trying to strike an invisible enemy.

The girl had already retreated five or six meters, assuming her water dancer stance once more. One foot supported her weight, her toes digging lightly into the ground, while the other hovered slightly above the arena floor. Her sword, now pointed at the frenzied bear, glistened with fresh blood.

On the ground between her and the bear lay its severed nose, a black mass no larger than a fist.

"She blinded and crippled its sense of smell in one swift move. Such ruthless precision—three strikes to three vital points, with flawless speed and force," Ser Jorah murmured, his voice tinged with awe.

"Look at her stance," Whitebeard added. "Still as a statue, yet always moving. She combines stillness and motion, masking her intent while waiting for an opening to strike. That earlier stab to the bear's neck—she only used sixty percent of her strength. It wasn't a misstep but a calculated move."

"Hey, Wretched Girl!" Grazdan suddenly stood, gripping the railing and leaning forward as he shouted into the arena. "What are you standing around for? The masters didn't come to watch a bear cry like a cub. Kill it now, or let it tear you apart! There are more performances waiting to start!"

"Wretched Girl! Kill it!"

"Wretched Girl! Kill it!"

The announcer's amplified voice rang out through a brass horn, inciting the crowd. Soon, three thousand spectators rose from their seats, chanting in unison. The deafening roar of their cries echoed like a sinister incantation, dragging the innocent child into the depths of hell.

"Monsters! Beasts!" Whitebeard's cane struck the red-bricked floor in fury, the rapid tapping reflecting his inner turmoil.

Ser Jorah's face was grim. "The girl is too small. Even if she strikes through its eye, she lacks the strength to kill it in one blow. Meanwhile, the bear only needs to land a single hit—"

"Master Grazdan," Dany said softly, turning to the pearl-draped slave master beside her. "Your gladiator seems to have already won. The fight was spectacular. Perhaps we could move on to the next match?"

"The Westerosi whore is a sentimental fool," Krhaznys sneered in a voice loud enough for everyone around him to hear. He leaned toward the masters seated nearby and chuckled. "The real show has only just begun, and she thinks it's over? Ha!"

His crude remark drew smirks and murmurs from the other masters. Missandei's dark face flushed with anger and embarrassment, her golden eyes wide with uncertainty. She didn't know whether to translate the insult to her new mistress or remain silent.

The Tradition of the Harpy's Son: An Unfinished Duel in the Arena Cannot Be Stopped Midway. Grazdan sternly refused, his tone resolute.

As he finished speaking, he raised his hand toward the host, who immediately called out to the surrounding crowd.

"Click-click."

From the first tier of the stands emerged a group of crossbowmen. They spread out along the upper levels of the arena, forming a circle around the combat ring, their bolts aimed directly at the hesitant girl below.

The girl noticed the sudden appearance of the armed crossbowmen above her. She realized that the master was deeply displeased with her caution.

Without further delay, she tiptoed forward lightly, circling behind the massive bear's hindquarters before thrusting her sword into its flesh. As the enraged black bear turned around and swung its massive arm, the girl ducked low, slipping beneath its armpit and emerging unscathed on the other side.

Now standing before the black bear, the girl hunched slightly, delivering a soft kick to its thick belly. Sensing its foe in front of it, the bear opened its massive arms wide, resembling a desperate husband lunging toward a seductive wife posing provocatively in lingerie by the bedside.

"Whoosh—" The girl's hunched figure sprung up like a compressed spring, her entire body shooting backward like an arrow released from a tightly drawn bow, retreating three meters in an instant.

"Ah—!" Dany screamed, her face pale with fright. Although the girl's speed was impressive, she was still within the bear's attack range. In the next moment, it seemed inevitable that her head would be crushed into a bloody pulp by the bear's massive skull.

But Dany was wrong. The girl's lightning-fast retreat suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Spinning gracefully like a ballet dancer, she maneuvered herself to the bear's shoulder—just below the height of its head. While its head could have struck her, the bear's shoulder merely brushed past her clothes and crashed heavily to the ground.

"Crack!" A sharp, distinct sound of bone breaking rang out, accompanied by the bear's agonized howl. Both reached Dany's ears simultaneously.

Looking back at the arena, Dany saw the massive black bear sprawled on the ground, blood flowing like a gushing faucet and rapidly soaking the earth. The girl, her face deathly pale and drenched in sweat, knelt half-crouched between the bear's outstretched arm and its head. Her right hand, bent at an unnatural angle, was pinned beneath the bear's neck.

The girl remained silent, struggling to crawl out from under the unconscious and convulsing giant body. The three-meter-tall black bear lay motionless on the ground, its mouth emitting labored wheezes, no longer capable of standing.

The entire arena fell into a deathly silence. Everything had happened so quickly that no one even had time to blink. In the span of a few heartbeats, the game of "The Big Bear and the Little Girl" had come to an end.

"How did that bear die?"

"Did the girl win?"

"What did she do?"

Gradually, the silence gave way to a low buzz of discussion, like a hive of bees awakening. The Giscaris in the crowd gesticulated excitedly, their voices rising in enthusiasm.

"She's no ordinary girl," muttered a white-bearded man, his expression grave as he watched the limping figure of the girl retreat toward the tunnel. "I underestimated her. She's no novice. Her experience is so profound, even the Ironborn would feel a twinge of pity."

Jorah, pale-faced, nodded in agreement. "She knew she couldn't pierce the black bear's hide. She used the bear's own momentum instead, placing her sword on the ground precisely where its head would land. Her right hand is likely ruined now, and who knows how many bones are broken."

"Hahaha!" Grazdan let out a hearty laugh, turning to Euron. "Well? Was that exciting enough for you?"

Euron's blue eyes were still wide with shock. He nodded slightly but said nothing.

"I told you, the best is yet to come," the obese slave master continued, turning to Dany. "That girl isn't just anyone. She's slaughtered countless raging bulls before. Even Brutus XXVIII didn't die unjustly."

Dany's mind flashed back to her first meeting with Kraznys, when he had told her, Strength isn't the most important thing. A bull's strength is great, yet it was easily killed by a nine-year-old girl.

It seemed the girl he mentioned back then was this very one.

Just nine years old.

Suddenly, Dany sighed, feeling she no longer had the right to proclaim, "Who could have it worse than me?"

The world was like a furnace, filled with countless souls struggling in torment. Her suffering neither added nor subtracted from it.

Afterward, a more traditional gladiator match took place—a 10-on-10 group battle. Twenty shirtless slaves, armed with swords and knives, hacked at one another in a chaotic melee. Blood sprayed in all directions, severed limbs flew through the air, and heads rolled across the ground like stones.

The arena echoed with the sounds of slaughter—battle cries, agonized wails, and the clashing of blades filled the air. Dany felt as though she had stepped into the grotesque world of Braindead, her stomach churning with nausea.

When the brawl ended, the red soil of the arena had turned into a muddy, blood-soaked quagmire.

Looking at the gory scene, Dany thought to herself: Perhaps the red soil of this arena wasn't originally red. It must have been dyed crimson by the blood of countless battles.

(End of Chapter)

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