"Damn milkman, coward." Khal Drogo, riding a red steed, looked at Gendry in front of him. His opponent was truly difficult to deal with, the strongest enemy Drogo had ever seen in his life. But Khal Drogo had to use all his strength; in the Battle of Myr, his personal fate was at stake. In the Dothraki Sea, a defeated Khal only had one path: death.
"As expected of the Khal of Khals. Although his height can't compare to the Mountain, his stamina and speed combined still make him a top-tier warrior in this era. However, his brain isn't good; he doesn't wear armor when going out to fight." Gendry also observed his opponent. Drogo was a tall man with a graceful physique, not only the tallest among the Dothraki Screamers but also the most valiant. Gendry had already sensed Drogo's terrifying nature; Drogo possessed natural strength and was agile and nimble.
Before Gendry and Drogo fought to the death, Drogo had led the Screaming Warriors in about twelve charges, yet his stamina still seemed boundless, as if he had just entered the battle, maintaining peak condition.
"Only cowards hide in iron armor," Khal Drogo roared, brandishing his arakh. Khal Drogo's braid was particularly eye-catching. His braid was black and shiny like a deep, eternal night, smeared with scented oil, and tied with many small metal bells that jingled with his movements. Khal Drogo's hair reached his waist, past his hips, proving him to be the strongest warrior.
Khal Drogo's arakh danced in a cold white blur, the curve and sharpness of the blade making people involuntarily close their eyes. Khal Drogo seemed to have multiple arms, his blade light wildly swirling. Gendry looked at the enraged Drogo, raising his warhammer. This was a clash of storms, a bloody struggle between warriors.
"Today I will slaughter you, Drogo." Gendry moved with Drogo's actions, swinging his spiked warhammer. One side of the warhammer was hammer-shaped, the other a bird-beak-like pick. The Khal's courage earned his admiration, a powerful opponent, but also a foolish one.
The Dothraki Screamers fought without armor, only blood, death, severed limbs, and the painful screams of the dying. Death came abruptly and swiftly, a brutal music across the vast Dothraki Sea. Drogo was unfamiliar with warriors clad in heavy armor. The Dothraki originally defeated enemies through mobility, encirclement, and archery, but now Drogo had to face Gendry head-on, falling into Gendry's plan. This was what military strategy called 'momentum' – to control the initiative.
"Die!" Drogo roared, blood flowing from the wound on his shoulder, but Drogo would not retreat. Even if there was doubt, confusion, and some fear in Drogo's eyes, there was more tenacity and fire. The arakh in Drogo's hand flew up and down; he wanted to strike down the opponent in front of him.
Gendry gripped the spiked warhammer in his hand, allowing Drogo to launch his wild attacks, then counter-attacking. Both their attacks were equally swift, fierce, and powerful. The clash of arakh and warhammer produced a terrifying roar, steel interwoven with steel creating gusts of death. Gendry responded to every one of Khal Drogo's attacks.
"Woo woo woo woo woo." Just as Gendry and Drogo were locked in a bloody battle, a desolate bugle call sounded from Gendry's cavalry. For the Dothraki, who were caught in the melee, hearing this bugle call filled them with a deep fear. First, Gendry's main cavalry blew the bugle, and then the bugles on Myr Fortress also began to sound, as if in response.
"It's time," Gendry thought with satisfaction, while still entangled with Drogo. The Dothraki had no chance of escape; they were doomed this time.
"Long live the warhammer!" "Long live the warhammer!" "Long live the Commander-in-Chief!" "Long live the liberator!" The black-armored cavalry carrying black quartered banners roared loudly, waves of cheers rising one after another.
This was the signal for a full-scale assault. The gates of Myr Fortress slowly opened, and Gilo Reha (the former captain of the Spear Company) led the reserve Knights charging out, light cavalry, heavy cavalry, and even those Dothraki Screamers who had defected to Gendry.
"Thump!" "Thump!" The shield formations led by Grey Wolf and Steel Fist also regained new vitality. The Unsullied and heavy infantry marched forward in great strides, like a moving forest. The taxi soldiers, clad in black armor and wielding Longspears or sharp swords, all swarmed out, charging towards the bewildered dothraki.
At this moment, it was Khal Drogo's Dothraki Screamers who became the ones cut off and surrounded. Khal Drogo's subordinates, camped below Myr, were weary from battle and finally met their fate. Gendry's main Knights slammed into Khal Drogo's dothraki warriors like a heavy punch, followed by the infantry shield formations and the charge of the reserve cavalry. The Screaming Warriors following Khal Drogo seemed to be caught in a quagmire, swallowed by a crescent-shaped formation.
"Damn milkman." Drogo's gaze swept across the battlefield. The black-armored soldiers were sweeping aside the weary dothraki Knights like farmers harvesting wheat. Drogo naturally understood that the scales of war were rapidly tipping towards the defenders. There was a hint of anxiety in the depths of Drogo's black eyes; he understood what the river of black armor represented.
Drogo had not expected his opponent to be so cunning. The Unsullied's shield formation was merely bait to lure him in. The most vicious part was the multi-pronged assault and encirclement.
"Behind, and my Khalasar behind me!" Drogo's heart jolted. The enemy first continuously wore him down with shield formations, then encircled him with three armies. How could they not raid his camp? But Khal Drogo's worries were already useless; time had indeed run out.
"Kill!" "Kill!" The Red Viper's surprise force, riding fast longships, landed from the Myr River, fiercely charging into the Dothraki Khalasar's rear camp, where the Dothraki's old and weak were, along with their plundered treasures and stored grain.
Shouts of killing rose and fell. Khal Drogo felt a deep fear. The enemy's tactics and ambushes were endless. He had only fallen into the error of empiricism, believing the Unsullied's shield formation was the main force, not realizing there were even fiercer heavy armored Knights charging.
"A chance, the only chance." Khal Drogo heard the chaotic sounds, but he could not escape. The only chance was for Drogo himself to defeat the opponent in front of him, the commander of the Two Cities, and then break through the encirclement.
"Now!" Gendry caught Drogo's attack rhythm. He only dodged attacks aimed at vital points, letting the arakh blade fall on his armor elsewhere. At the same time, Gendry's warhammer inflicted more damage on Drogo.
The pick of the spiked warhammer grazed Drogo's face, the sharp pick cutting Drogo's face from ear to lip. Blood gushed from Drogo's wound, making him even more frenzied. Khal Drogo, however, was as agile as a leopard, which was why the blow didn't reach the bone.
"Damn you, you milkman, coward, milkman hiding in stone houses and armor!" Khal Drogo cursed loudly. But Drogo also felt a shock, because armor had weight, yet the iron-clad warrior in front of him responded to his every attack with powerful clangs, still appearing to have plenty of energy. With such courage and strength, Khal Drogo had no choice but to deal with his opponent carefully.
"Khal!" "Khal!" Khal Drogo's Blood Riders had seen the changes on the chaotic battlefield. Now the Dothraki were under fierce assault from both front and rear. Khal Drogo, who in their eyes was invincible, was now bleeding and wounded. If the Khal died, the Blood Riders would not live alone.
Drogo's three Blood Riders also tried to cross the melee to protect Drogo.
"Whoosh." Anguy's arrow flew first, and one of Drogo's Blood Riders fell, tumbling limply from his horse. Anguy had shot Khoro, Drogo's oldest Blood Rider. Old age meant his strength was slowly declining. He was a short, stout, bald man with a hooked nose and a mouth full of broken teeth.
Drogo's other two Blood Riders also tried to rush forward, but they were blocked on the other side of the battlefield by Longspears and other Knights, and the two sides began to fight back and forth.
Drogo's Blood Riders were indeed masters in Drogo's Khalasar, but they had no armor protection, and following Khal Drogo's dozen or so charges had already consumed a lot of their strength. The Blood Riders let out terrifying roars. Although their speed was swift, they could not break through the enemy's defenses. The Knights had plate armor, gauntlets, lobstered greaves, thick gorgets. Longspear and another Knight quickly found openings, and Drogo's remaining two Blood Riders also died quickly.
Longspear's spear tip fiercely grazed the Dothraki's painted vest, directly piercing his heart.
"Boom." Drogo's eyes were blood-red. His Blood Riders were all dead. Especially Khoro, who died beside him, and the fire burning in his Khalasar, made Drogo even more pained. Many years ago, Khoro had saved a young Drogo from Mercenaries. He was Drogo's savior and his Blood Rider.
Although like a rampaging leopard, Drogo had to calm himself to understand a way to deal with plate and scale armor. Large metal discs protected the joints of the armor between the arms and chest. The weakest points of protection were at the armor's connecting lines, under the armpits, elbows, knees, and the joints below the arms.
Drogo wielded his arakh, attacking Gendry's armpit, intending to strike at the vulnerable heart and lungs.
This was one solution for armor penetration, because to save production time, even many plate armors made for nobles had no protection at all on the back of the calves and groin. Ser Duncan the Tall once pierced a heavily armored Knight's heart with a dagger through the armpit.
"As expected of Khal Drogo," Gendry praised. Khal Drogo's insight was indeed sharp, but that was all. Gendry's black scale plate armor was top-grade, and his reaction speed and strength were also outstanding.
Khal Drogo's attack with his arakh, aimed at the armor's gaps, had not yet taken effect, while Gendry's spiked warhammer had already grazed Drogo's upper body, leaving a blood-red wound on Drogo's chest. Although this wound was long, Drogo barely managed to dodge, resulting in only a bloody strip of flesh hanging from his chest. Blood flowed from Khal Drogo's left chest, slowly soaking into his painted vest.
"Is this the path of fate?" Gendry thought. Khal Drogo was originally destined to die this year, from an infected wound after fighting Khal Ogo and others. The most fatal wound was also to the chest, even cutting off the head from the chest.
This wound made Drogo even more frenzied. Drogo raised his arakh, but the blade only struck the hard outer surface of the armor. Gendry heard the sound of the arakh striking the armor and saw the sparks that flew as the blade scraped against it. The situation was already greatly in his favor.
"In the Dothraki Sea, you would already be dead, you coward."
"This is not the Dothraki Sea."
"Take off your armor."
"It's not too late to lay down your weapons. You've lost. Surrender," Gendry said to Khal Drogo, though Gendry knew the question was futile.
The Dothraki's battles for the Khal position were very bloody. Khal Drogo would not be unaware, and moreover, a proud man like Khal Drogo would not accept defeat. That year, Khal Temo clashed with Khal Dhakko, known as the "Dragon of the North." At that time, Khal Dhakko was old. Temo's Khalasar crushed Dhakko, captured him, cut off his hands, feet, and genitals, roasted them in front of him, burned his wife and Child alive, and then burned him to death.
Of course, Temo also met a bad end. In the Battle of Qohor, Khal Temo, his sons, all his ko, three Blood Riders, and tens of thousands of dothraki warriors fell on the battlefield, only serving to enhance the renown of the Unsullied.
"Die!" Khal Drogo raised his arakh, but pain and exhaustion slowed Khal Drogo's speed somewhat. For Gendry, this opportunity was already enough.
The mace first blocked Drogo's attack. Gendry then swung the hammer with his backhand, smashing it into Drogo's head. Gendry used all the strength he had ever had in his life. He felt the Storms Blood burning within him, the power of the storm. This powerful, heavy blow struck Drogo's temple. Gendry saw crimson blood burst from Drogo's head, followed by stark white bone, and some grayish-white and soft matter.
Drogo looked at his opponent in disbelief, a pained expression crossing his face, like the sun obscured by dark clouds. Drogo couldn't help but touch the back of his head, and then with a "thump," this Khal of Khals collapsed.
"Drogo is dead!" Gendry roared, crimson blood splattering onto his armor. This was merciless war. The Dothraki themselves were a cruel people, so this outcome was not particularly bad for Drogo; it was better than dying miserably from an infected wound.
"Drogo is dead!"
"Drogo is dead!" The black-armored soldiers followed with a wave of cheers. The death of Khal Drogo meant that this war was almost undisputed, an overwhelming victory.
Longspear dismounted, cut off Drogo's head with his sword, and impaled it on his spear. There was still that horrifying hole in Drogo's head. However, the long braid, the gold and bronze bells tied in his thick beard, and the iconic golden belt all attested to Khal Drogo's tragic fate: death.
The once handsome and fierce, the strongest in the Dothraki Sea, thus met a tragic end.
Longspear then rode his horse to Gendry. "Commander-in-Chief, this honor belongs to you."
Gendry wiped the blood from his mace. "Victory belongs not only to me but to thousands upon thousands of warriors."
"Yes," Longspear's eyes held much more respect.
Gendry looked at Drogo's head. Defeating Drogo was indeed not easy, but he had finally done it. From now on, he would be the undisputed King of the Two Cities.
"The Khal is dead!"
"The Khal is dead!" The Dothraki felt their hearts suddenly stop. The Khal's death in battle was a devastating blow to everyone. The Dothraki began to flee in all directions. The Khal's ko were the first to seek an escape route, and an entire vast Khalasar disintegrated.
The initiative was entirely in the hands of the Alliance of the Twin Cities, pursuing and striking the collapsing Dothraki Screamers.
"It actually happened!" In the rear of the Dothraki Screamers, The Red Viper, who was commanding the surprise attack on the rear camp, naturally also heard the thunderous cheers.
A strange expression appeared on The Red Viper's face. The main branch, the main branch. If the main branch fell, then House Baratheon's good days were about to begin.
Khal Drogo, the Khal of Khals, had actually died on the land of Myr today.
The death of one King also signified the rise of a new King.
The crown comes not only from gold but also from blood.
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