—

The world held its breath.

Not metaphorically, but literally. The air itself seemed to pause, molecules slowing as temperature plummeted beyond anything nature had ever intended.

Even with dragon flames flowing through my veins, my breath came out in clouds so thick they immediately froze solid and fell to the ground like snow made of glass.

So this is what eight thousand year old magic looks like.

The Night King's power wasn't flashy. There were no grand gestures, no dramatic incantations. He simply was, and reality bent itself around his existence like light bending around a black hole.

Ice began forming on my molten veins. Not quickly, but inexorably, heat battling cold in a war that shook the very foundations of the physical world. Where our opposing magics met, the air itself began to crack, space literally fragmenting under the strain of contradictory forces.

"You are young," he said, taking a step forward. "Powerful, but young. I have walked this world since before your ancestors learned to make fire."

That's not true. He wasn't a monkey when he was Turned, after all.

He's trying to intimidate me. Good. That means he's not certain of victory.

I raised Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel blade wreathed in flames hot enough to melt stone. "Youth has its advantages, old timer. Like knowing when old ideas need to die."

He laughed, and the sound was like icebergs grinding against each other in the deep ocean. "Death? I am death, child of fire. I am the long night that swallows all warmth, the winter that ends all summers."

Dramatic.

But drama doesn't win fights.

I lunged forward, my obsidian spear leading the way. The weapon moved faster than human eyes could follow, aimed directly at his chest where a heart should beat.

He caught the spear barehanded.

Ice spread up the obsidian shaft like a living thing, frost racing toward my grip with intent to freeze flesh and bone solid. I released the weapon and spun away, Blackfyre coming around in a horizontal slash that should have taken his head clean off.

He ducked without looking, his free hand coming up to grasp the sword blade.

Impossible. Valyrian steel cuts through anything.

But his grip held, ice crystallizing around the dark metal until it looked like a blade made of frozen starlight. When he twisted, I had a choice. To either let go of the sword or have my wrist snapped.

I let go.

Both weapons. He disarmed me in two moves. This is...

"Concerning?" he asked, reading my expression with amusement that somehow made his inhuman features even more terrifying. "You thought fire would be enough. You thought youth and power would overcome age and patience. Young dragonblood. Let me enlighten you on something shocking… Even Dragons historically have a predator. They're not quite the 'apex' you claim to be."

"To be fair, every predator has a counter. Humans can surely hunt a Lion, but do we call humans the King Of The Jungle?" I presented a counter argument.

He gestured, and my own weapons rose from the ground, now encased in ice so complete they looked like art pieces. Beautiful. Deadly.

And completely beyond my reach.

"But you misunderstand the nature of our conflict," he continued. "This was never about fire against ice, young dragon. This was about order against chaos."

Order against chaos? Indeed.

He was a force whose eyes were locked at something beyond me. However, I was a variable that did not care.

"I don't give a fuck."

"Yes. You burn," he said, taking another step closer. "You destroy. You remake the world according to your whims, never considering the consequences… But I preserve. I maintain. I ensure that the natural order continues as it should."

Natural order? He's leading an army of corpses!

I laughed to myself.

"Natural?" I spat, flames wreathing my form as I prepared for whatever came next. "There's nothing natural about raising the dead. Is there?"

"Death is the most natural thing of all," he replied. "What is unnatural is defying it, you are right… What is unnatural is a mortal claiming the powers of gods, living for centuries when he should have died decades ago."

For a moment I wondered if he was talking about himself or me.

I wondered if he knew about the System or not. I considered it. I pondered over it. In the end, I decided it didn't matter.

I wasn't here to question his knowledge. I was here to melt him to the ground.

"You are an aberration," he continued, ice beginning to form around his own body like armor. "A mistake in the pattern of existence. And mistakes must be corrected."

He's using his fallen generals' power, I realized, seeing how the Night King had grown more formidable. Drawing strength from every White Walker I killed. But if death can empower…

What about life? Can I call power from Viserion, maybe?

The attack, when it came, wasn't physical. It was conceptual.

Reality twisted around us, and suddenly I wasn't standing on a battlefield anymore. I was floating in space, surrounded by stars that burned with cold fire. Below us, a world turned slowly, covered in ice and snow and beautiful, deadly silence.

"This is how it ends," the Night King's voice echoed from everywhere at once. "Perfect stillness. Perfect order. No more chaos. No more change. No more pain."

A world of the dead. That's his endgame. Not conquest. Perfection.

The cold pressed in on all sides, seeping through my fire immunity, through my regeneration, through every protection I'd built or been granted. This wasn't normal cold. This was the cold between stars, the absolute zero that existed at the heat death of the universe.

I'm dying. I could feel that down to my bones. Yet, somehow, my Draconic Pride did not accept that. This ability of the Night King, which might have killed Dany instantly, I did not succumb to. How could I? I was a Dragon.

Dragons did not fall.

I had to do something about this. That power-sharing thing… I wasn't alone here. I could feel them. Viserion above, Rhaegal, Drogon. Their power, their life force.

If White Walkers can share power through death, why can't dragons share power through life?

I reached out with my mana-infused will, trying to pull strength from my children. It did not work. I tried to communicate with the universe, with reality, using my mana as a landline, but there was no response. No, there was…

Except it wasn't any of my children who responded. Something else answered the call. Something vast and ancient and dead for centuries.

"Hatchling."

The voice was deeper than mountains, older than kingdoms. I knew it instantly from every story, every legend. Somehow, I recognized it.

Balerion. That is Balerion the Black Dread. What the hell?

Not just him. Others stirred in whatever realm dead dragons go to. Meraxes. Vhagar. Every dragon that had ever lived, ever died, ever burned with Targaryen fire.

"You call for strength, young king? Then take ours. Take it all."

The power that flooded through me wasn't mine. It was theirs. Every dragon who had ever served House Targaryen, their combined might crystallizing into something visible, something real.

Responding to this, a sound cut through the impossible space. Not a roar. Not a voice. A song. Ancient beyond measure, carrying notes that predated language, predated thought, predated existence itself.

The dead dragons' collective power took shape. Not appearing from nowhere, but condensing from the accumulated might of dragonkind itself. A hexagonal Icon, dragon-faced and burning with fires older than civilization.

Above my head, reality cracked.

[The Pride of a Dragon. What a stupidly cheating thing!]

The System announced, and for the first time in ever, it felt like someone was talking to me rather than a machine. Although the feeling vanished the next moment.

[The greater reality, the Omniverse beyond, reacts to the Will of a Dragon. A Dragon cannot be one-shotted. Your willpower is resonating with reality and dreams.]

Not metaphorically. Literally. Space-time fractured like broken glass, and through the cracks blazed a light that made stars look dim. The hexagonal shape fully materialized, burning with golden fire that didn't just illuminate. It created.

Somehow, I knew – felt – what it was.

[You've touched… The Dragon Icon.]

The Dragon Icon.

It hung above me like a crown forged from the concept of dominance itself. Six-sided perfection, with the head of a dragon carved in its center, eyes that held the fury of a thousand suns. Power radiated from it in waves that made the Night King's conceptual space crack and buckle.

"Impossible," the Night King whispered.

I laughed, and the sound shattered his frozen realm like hammer on glass. "Impossible? I'm a man with video game powers who conquered seven kingdoms. I am impossible." I didn't really fucking know what that thing in the sky was, but he seemed to recognize it. So it was all good as long as he was scared.

If I had to take a guess? It was the personification of powers, like a 'sea' connected to all the dragons in all of existence, and pouring power to any single one when they called for it. That was the impression I got anyway.

We crashed back into reality with the force of colliding meteors.

The frozen battlefield exploded around us as my feet touched ground, the impact creating a crater that stretched for miles.

The Night King materialized across from me, his alien features twisted with something I'd never seen there before.

Fear.

"You want to see an aberration?" I asked, power flowing through me like molten gold. The Dragon Icon pulsed above my head, each beat sending shockwaves through the earth. "Let me show you what a real god looks like."

I moved.

Not run or charged. Moved. Space folded around me as I crossed the distance between us in a heartbeat, my fist connecting with his chest hard enough to split mountains.

The Night King flew backward, his body carving a trench through the landscape before slamming into a distant hill. The hill ceased to exist.

But he was already moving, ice magic spiraling around him as he launched himself at me with inhuman speed. His fist met mine in the space between heartbeats, and the collision sent shockwaves that leveled forests for miles around.

Now this is more like it.

We traded blows that reshaped geography. Each punch created new valleys. Each kick carved rivers. When he grabbed my throat and slammed me into the ground, the impact created a lake where none had existed before.

I wrapped my hands around his head and introduced his face to my knee. The sound barrier didn't just break, it shattered into component pieces that reformed as thunder.

We fought across continents of frozen wasteland, our battle scarring the earth with evidence of powers that shouldn't exist. The Night King's ice magic clashed with the Dragon Icon's fire, creating weather patterns that would be studied for millennia.

He caught my next punch, ice spreading up my arm in crystalline patterns. "You cannot defeat winter itself!"

"Watch me," I snarled, the Dragon Icon blazing brighter. Heat poured from me in waves that turned his ice to steam before it could fully form.

My headbutt sent him spinning through the air like a broken doll. I followed, wings erupting from my back as I closed the distance. We collided again a thousand feet above the ground, our momentum carrying us into a mountain face.

The mountain lost.

Rock and stone exploded around us as we punched through solid granite like it was mist. The Night King grabbed a boulder the size of a castle and swung it at my head. I caught it one-handed and crushed it to dust, then drove my elbow into his solar plexus.

He doubled over, ice blood spraying from his mouth, before retaliating with an uppercut that launched me through three mountain peaks.

He's strong, I admitted, reorienting myself in the air. Stronger than I expected.

But not strong enough.

The Dragon Icon sang louder, its hexagonal form spinning as power built within its crystalline structure. I pulled more power from it even as I felt a strain on my soul. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. But I felt my strength multiply, my speed increase, my very existence becoming more real than the reality around me.

When I descended, it was like a meteor given malicious intent.

The Night King raised his arms to block, ice armor forming around him in layers thick as castle walls. I punched through it all like tissue paper, my fist finding his chest, lifting him off his feet, and sending him flying so far that he disappeared beyond the horizon.

I followed, seemingly teleporting through space itself, arriving just as he crashed through what had once been a forest and was now a crater filled with splinters.

"How is this possible?" he gasped, struggling to his feet. Ice blood leaked from dozens of wounds, his perfect alien features now marred and broken. "What are you?"

"I… Call me the Dragon King," I said simply, walking toward him as the Icon's light made the air itself burn. "I'm fire made flesh. I'm the end of your eternal winter."

It felt good to say those otherwise corny lines. The context made me feel confident instead. He roared, summoning every ounce of power he possessed. The temperature plummeted beyond anything this world had ever experienced. Ice magic erupted from him in waves that froze the very air, creating a storm of absolute zero that should have killed everything for miles.

The Dragon Icon's flames simply consumed it all.

I reached out and grabbed him by the throat. His ice magic battered against my grip, trying to freeze my hand, my arm, my soul. But fire doesn't freeze. Fire consumes.

"Any last words?" I asked.

He tried to speak, but only ice blood bubbled from his lips.

"I didn't think so."

I squeezed.

The Night King didn't just die. He ended. The ancient magic sustaining him unraveled like a rope cut with a blade. His perfect features crumbled, his ice armor melted, and the alien intelligence in his eyes flickered out like a candle in a hurricane.

[You've done the impossible. You've slain The Night King!]

[Explosive amount of experience points gained!]

[You have completed the Main Quest!]

[Main Quest: Stop The Long Night]

[Experience gained: 100,000,000!]

A lot more notifications filled my vision. More abilities I could choose from, a lot of new ones, but I didn't care to read them all.

Across the battlefield, across the continent, across the world, every wight collapsed. Every White Walker shattered. Eight thousand years of accumulated winter died in a single moment.

The Dragon Icon pulsed once more, and I felt their approval wash over me. "Well done, Dragonking," Balerion's voice faded. "The family lives on."

Then they were gone, leaving only the memory of absolute power and the knowledge that I'd never truly fought alone.

I stood alone in the crater, the Night King's remains turning to ash between my fingers. Above, clouds parted for the first time in months, and warm sunlight touched the frozen earth. Above me, Dany circled the sky, wide-eyed in shock.

[You have leveled up.]

[You have leveled up.]

[You have leveled up.]

[You have leveled...]

[You have...]

[You...]

[...]

[You have reached Level 207!]

[New abilities unlocked…]

[Achievement: Reality Breaker - You have manifested powers beyond this world's comprehension. The Dragon Icon has acknowledged your supremacy.]

I dismissed the notifications with a thought, more interested in the silence around me. Not the silence of death, but the silence of absolute victory.

The game wasn't over. It never would be, as long as dragons ruled the world.

But today, fire had triumphed over ice. "Hahaha…" A laugh bubbled up in my chest. A sound broke through my throat as I cackled like lightning. Today, the Dragon King had proven what everyone already knew.

"Brother!" Dany shouted, Drogon rushing across the sky as the girl leaped at me. Her arms locked around my neck as I held and twirled her around.

Nothing could stand against the flames of the last Targaryen.

I did it. I won. I made it! I took the throne, and I saved the world.

[Image Here]

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Reign of the Dragonking ends in a few chapters! Want to read the ending right away? Hop on Patreon

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