The smell of sulfur was pungent, but the scent of blood was even stronger!
Euron Greyjoy held a figure wearing a Warlock's robe and a black hood by the throat with one hand.
He pressed the figure against the scalding rock wall, his thin, blue-stained fingers drawing the dagger from his waist.
"On previous voyages, the winds and waves were sensible enough to avoid my 'The Quiet', and the shadows of the ruins were as docile as lambs..."
The sharp tip of the dagger grazed the trembling Adam's apple of the black-robed figure, coming to rest in the hollow of the shoulder beneath the voluminous robes.
"Now, it seems the pets in the Smoke Sea have forgotten their fear. Even filthy shadows dare to emerge and soil the hem of my robe?"
He slowly applied pressure to the dagger against the shoulder. The blade sank in bit by bit, and beads of crimson blood dripped from the bright tip of the knife.
"Have you forgotten... the wonderful... taste of your companion's flesh?" A morbid smile curled the blue-stained corners of Euron Greyjoy's mouth.
Despite the stinging pain in his shoulder, the black-robed figure did not dare to move!
Swallowing hard, his voice rasped with a tremor, "My Lord! Doesn't the fact that the previous trips were safe prove that my method is effective?"
"We even... even had time to set up camp!"
From beneath the black hood, his pupils trembled as he looked at the wicked, morbid man before him, seeing a murderous light flare in his cloudy, solitary eye at the rebuttal!
Fear urged him to explain quickly, and he stammered incoherently, "It's just... it's just!"
His tongue was tied by panic!
He still remembered the taste of his companion's flesh being stuffed into his mouth!
In his terror and panic, he wished he could bite off his knotted tongue just to get the explanation out faster!
"It's just! It's just... this time, it seems something among us... something attracted the things here, so the previous method failed!?" He finally managed to force the words out, his robes already soaked with cold sweat.
Euron Greyjoy looked mockingly at the black-robed Warlock, who was incoherent with fear. He licked his cracked lips with his blue-stained tongue and spoke softly.
"Then you had better quickly think of a way to make these filthy wretches leave!"
"Otherwise... I will let your remaining companions taste you as well!" The blue-stained lips leaned close to the hood, and a salty, viscous voice reached his ear.
The black-robed Warlock shuddered. Beneath the hood, extreme terror surfaced on his pale, mushroom-like face that resembled a skull.
Cold sweat poured down as he frantically searched his mind for the relevant knowledge.
"There... there is a way!" Extreme fear unlocked his potential. His past knowledge flashed through his mind like lightning, and even his speech became fluent!
"I once practiced an Incantation that can dispel some strange things, but..." He looked around as he spoke.
He quickly looked away when he saw the Ironborn forming a shield wall.
"It's just that it requires a large amount of blood to be drawn!"
Euron Greyjoy looked mockingly at the terrified Warlock and waved a hand at the surrounding Ironborn!
The surrounding Ironborn, who had overheard the conversation, understood. Amidst the clanging of their iron armor, they shifted their formation to clear a path.
Five or six mercenaries were revealed.
Earlier, in the chaos, these men had seen that the Ironborn were not in disarray and had rushed over to seek protection.
They had been blocked by the shield wall. Just as they were about to curse or cry for help, they saw the Ironborn clear a path.
Overjoyed, they rushed inside. The first was a young Mercenary who had barely caught his breath after entering.
A cold-gleaming dagger was pressed against his throat. Before he could react, his throat was slit!
Most of his neck was sliced open by the sharp dagger, and blood sprayed out like a fountain.
The young Mercenary clutched his neck in vain, the remaining air in his lungs spraying from the wound mixed with blood.
It made a hissing sound!
Euron Greyjoy kicked the slumped young Mercenary toward the Warlock as blood stained the ground. He then toyed with his dagger as he walked toward the remaining mercenaries, who stood frozen in place.
Meanwhile, the Ironborn inside the shield wall had already leveled their weapons at them!
The remaining mercenaries froze, the color instantly draining from their faces.
Terror was frozen on their faces!
"No—!" someone managed to wail halfway.
Euron Greyjoy flicked his dagger.
The blades and axes of the Ironborn fell instantly!
Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!
The muffled sound of blades cutting into flesh and short screams rang out as the remaining mercenaries fell like wheat being reaped.
Blood pooled into small puddles.
The black-robed Warlock's body trembled slightly, not daring to look any further.
He lunged into the pool of blood before him, dipping his withered fingers into the warm blood and frantically smearing it on the ground.
He began to chant twisted, grating syllables.
Something strange happened—the flowing blood seemed to come alive! It snaked across the ground like crimson vipers.
It quickly wove into a massive, complex, and pulsing Rune. The moment the Rune took shape...
...a cold, deathly aura spread out, overpowering the scorching heat of the sulfur!
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