Game of Thrones: The Witcher System

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Realizing that the Three-Eyed Raven had spoken the truth, Clay suddenly found himself pondering a question. Since he had already obtained a dragon egg and was a descendant of House Targaryen, why hadn't this former Lord Bloodraven taken to the skies on dragonback himself?

His gaze fell upon the unfortunate creature currently possessed by the Three-Eyed Raven. Considering the current state of this enigmatic entity, Clay immediately grasped the reason behind it.

It was, in essence, a matter of timing. When he was still the Lord Bloodraven, he had never come into contact with this dragon egg, nor had he possessed any magic of his own. But by the time he became a Greenseer and merged with magic itself, he could no longer escape from this state.

There was a certain grim irony to it. A series of unfortunate circumstances had delayed the return of dragons by an entire hundred years.

High temperatures were not an issue. As long as the environment was suitable, achieving the necessary heat would be simple—at worst, he could just start a fire. After all, based on Daenerys' experience, no matter how high the temperature, a dragon egg wouldn't simply turn into a roasted egg.

The problem of magic was also manageable. If necessary, he could make another trip to Winterfell, place one hand on the weirwood, and infuse the dragon egg with magic using the other. A reckless move, to be sure—but Clay had never been one to shy away from danger.

The most troublesome obstacle, however, was the requirement for special blood. This condition was truly perplexing. The Targaryens could bond with dragons, as could the Velaryons of Driftmark. Even some bastards with mixed blood had successfully ridden dragons before.

But what was the true nature of this bloodline? Clay did not know. However, he was certain of one thing—his ancestry traced back to House Manderly of the Andals. Their blood had no resonance with dragons.

"Special blood… How am I supposed to fulfill this condition? I'm not a Targaryen, and my ancestors never intermarried with them."

The Three-Eyed Raven shook his head and spoke in a calm, measured tone:

"No, you have misunderstood the nature of bloodlines. Of course, this is not your fault. If I had not become my lord's emissary, I too would never have known the secrets hidden within so-called bloodlines."

Clay was intrigued by the mention of "my lord." The powers of the Three-Eyed Raven were not limited to subtly influencing others and controlling creatures to grant him an all-seeing vision. One of his most significant abilities was the power to look into the past and glimpse the future.

From every perspective, both this entity and its master seemed to serve as chroniclers of the world's history.

Standing still, Clay patiently waited for the Three-Eyed Raven to continue speaking about the truth of bloodlines.

"My lord has told me that in the ancient Valyrian Freehold, there were dozens of dragonlord families. Their bloodlines allowed them and their descendants to ride dragons. But have you ever wondered why ordinary Valyrians did not have dragons of their own?"

"The truth is that those nearly forty dragonlord families carried a bloodline distinct from that of common Valyrians. Their blood was what we call the High Valyrian bloodline."

"Dragons are creatures woven from magic and fire. The so-called High Valyrian bloodline is, in essence, an innate affinity for fire magic. Only those who carry this bloodline can truly bond with dragons and communicate with these beings, born of flame and sorcery."

"As for you, Emissary of the Other God, your body is beyond my understanding. Not long ago, in the courtyard of this fortress, I saw you wield fire magic. In my vision, you have also used a defensive magic of unknown composition and a type of mental magic that I have never encountered before."

"This overturns my understanding. Within my knowledge, different schools of magic are inherently in conflict with each other—just as ice and fire cannot coexist. And yet, you are an exception…"

"There are times when I even wonder if the god behind you is one of the great deities who perished during the Age of Great Sorcery—and you, their emissary, walking this world upon their return."

It was a long speech, yet Clay carefully committed every word to memory. These were not merely revelations about bloodlines; they were fragments of lost history, pieces of the world's forgotten truths.

His fingers unconsciously traced the hilt of his sword as he struggled to digest the influx of information. Slowly, he pieced his thoughts together.

"So, according to your explanation, because I can use fire magic, I should be able to communicate with dragons. Which means… like the Targaryens, I should also be able to ride a dragon?"

"No. That is not quite the case."

The Three-Eyed Raven's response was immediate, shattering Clay's hopes.

"Physical constitution and ability are not the same thing. If merely wielding fire magic were enough to ride a dragon, then the High Valyrian bloodline would not be as significant as it truly is. The key is not the ability itself, but the bloodline."

"You can wield fire magic, but that does not necessarily mean you are attuned to its very essence. This touches upon knowledge recorded by my lord, but it is not what we are here to discuss today."

"As for the matter of bloodlines—I have brought you a solution."

"True dragon bloodlines… In this world, only a few remain. Two young dragons across the Narrow Sea, one hidden among a pack of wolves, and one standing in lonely vigil atop the Wall. But you have no means of reaching them."

"Yet you are also fortunate, for I, too, was once a bearer of the true dragon bloodline."

As soon as he finished speaking, Hodor—who had been standing dumbly like a statue—wordlessly produced a small transparent glass bottle from somewhere.

Through the flawlessly clear glass, Clay saw what was contained within—a dark red liquid.

"This is my blood. Once, it was filled with my lord's power. But now, I have reclaimed that power."

"Now, summon your magic. Feel the energy within this blood, just as you would when drawing magic from the heart tree…"

The Witcher's system activated in silence.

In Clay's vision, the liquid inside the bottle was no longer blood—it was fire, burning fiercely, alive.

He reached out, grasping the narrow bottle, and unleashed the full capacity of his mana absorption.

At first, the fire within the glass flickered quietly. Then, as if suddenly ignited by an unseen force, it surged like a raging current, rushing into Clay's palm and coursing through his body.

To the naked eye, the dark red liquid inside the bottle began to boil violently, bubbling like water at a rolling boil. Thick wisps of crimson steam rose from the bottle's mouth and were drawn into Clay's hand.

Scorching hot!

That was the only thing Clay could feel at this moment.

It felt as though his right hand was about to turn to ash. The searing heat spreads through every inch of his palm, his arm, his muscles, his very bones. And with it came an excruciating pain, one that seemed to tear through his being.

This was entirely different from the agony of a Witcher's mutation. But without a doubt, if it had been an ordinary person, they would have long since lost consciousness from the sheer intensity of the pain.

As the sensation of molten fire poured into his veins, the heat spread upward with each powerful beat of his heart. Clenching his teeth, Clay barely endured it.

In the midst of his suffering, the voice of the Three-Eyed Raven echoed in his ears.

"This is the gift the gods bestowed upon the dragonlords. But you, Emissary of the Other God—as an outsider, if you wish to claim this power, you must endure far more than the heirs of the dragonlords ever did. This is the price of power."

His mana surged wildly, desperately trying to counteract the burning force invading his bloodstream. But his mana reserves were nearly depleted—only 120 points remained. Who knew how long that would last?

His vision flickered. The voice of the Three-Eyed Raven echoed in his mind like a priest reciting scripture:

"When this blood flows through your body, completing a full cycle before returning to your heart, it will finally settle there in dormancy. You must then summon your magic and attempt to assimilate it."

"You are forging an entirely new dragonlord bloodline . . . This is a method known only to my lord, one who has endured the long river of time. Good luck, Emissary of the Other God…"

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[Chapter End's]

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