Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

"Lay down your weapons, surrender and you will not be killed."

"Lay down your weapons, surrender and you will not be killed."

“……”

The loud voice repeated over and over, seemingly tireless.

This voice was the nightmare of everyone in the Stormland army.

The Stormland soldiers who were originally resting in the shade of the beach all jumped up and ran wildly forward subconsciously.

No one felt that they should try to resist.

But their steps quickly slowed down dramatically, until they stopped in place or even collapsed, as if they were trapped in a quicksand made of sand and gravel.

The reality was even more terrifying than being trapped in quicksand.

Demonic figures stood on the road ahead, wearing fiery red armor and silver-white cloaks.

The soldiers who had not completely despaired slowly retreated, nervously and quickly observing their surroundings. There were also dozens of monsters behind the team, and the rocky mountains and earthen slopes to the east were dotted with figures, forming a sparse encirclement.

Sparse, but indestructible, without loopholes.

"We still couldn't escape after all." Norbert Grandison sighed.

For some reason, he felt a little relaxed, as if he had unloaded the heavy stone that he had been carrying all the time and was welcoming the destined future that he would eventually face.

Bruce Buckler, who was beside him, finally spoke, "I wonder how much we are worth?"

Norbert Grandison glanced at him in surprise. This guy had always been taciturn and resolute in his actions. Now he actually intends to surrender?!

How could he not know his own worth?

Norbert knew that a healthy knight general from the Buckler family was worth a ransom of one or two hundred gold dragons, which was not outrageous.

As for the other knights and cavalry...

Those with family backgrounds would most likely be guaranteed safety. Those who could not afford the price of regaining their freedom would depend entirely on the mood of the enemy army.

In comparison, Norbert himself and Bruce were considered lucky.

They were closely watched by the Lannister people, spending their days on horseback, in secret rooms, or in dungeons, waiting for the two sides to begin exchanging prisoners, or for Lord Renly and the family to send the ransom.

At least it was more acceptable than death.

Moreover, he had already done his best to be loyal to His Majesty, and even if he failed in the end, he should preserve the dignity of the family and face it calmly.

Norbert Grandison stood quietly.

If he surrendered, could he really wait for the day of exchanging prisoners?

When will the war end?

Recalling the scalding white steam on the night of the raid, Norbert Grandison had a faint premonition in his heart that the day of returning to his family and reuniting with his parents, wife, and children would come unexpectedly early, or late.

"Bruce, Norbert, everyone."

Norbert raised his head, and a familiar pockmarked face appeared behind the Lannister soldiers.

Roland Storm shouted loudly, "Please stop fighting this pointless battle. We have indeed failed, but not because of cowardice or arrogance. This is not our shame."

"In the name of a warrior, brave warriors should laughingly accept life or death, victory or defeat."

"I have received the promise of Earl Dondarrion. I, Roland Storm, swear on my honor that every warrior who offers his sword and gives up resistance will be properly settled, with their lives safe and free from humiliation."

"That's right, I guarantee it in my name." A red-armored warrior took off his helmet, revealing golden-red hair and a handsome face.

Norbert saw the purple forked lightning emblem on the starlight on his breastplate.

Earl of Blackhaven, Beric Dondarrion.

Beric Dondarrion was not nervous at all. From the moment he set off from King's Landing, he knew that his mission would definitely be accomplished.

The difference was how great his own casualties would be.

In order to ensure that none of the two hundred Holy Warriors sent to him by King Joffrey were missing, Beric Dondarrion tried to remain humble and steady.

He did not run directly to the target.

Instead, he chose to take a boat to Tidehead Isle north of Massey's Hook, where he contacted the Dragonstone fleet to prepare a battle plan.

The information sent by the Security Bureau has always been detailed, accurate, and timely.

Beric Dondarrion quickly discovered a good opportunity to attack, and immediately led his team on warships to land on the west coast of Massey's Hook, 20 kilometers south of Sharp Point.

This was the closest location on the west coast to the rebel camp.

Without a moment's rest, all the Holy Warriors marched on foot, relying on the priests' ability to restore their physical strength. They moved quietly along the way, avoiding scouts and eliminating outposts based on the Security Bureau's information.

In less than half a day, they approached the unsuspecting rebel camp.

It was late at night.

The devastated ruins of the small town had fallen asleep, with only a few patrolling soldiers wandering around.

With the help of the divine grace light curtain, the two hundred Holy Warriors communicated with each other and dispersed according to the plan, forming a neat encirclement, and then took out the "Droplets" tied around their waists.

The "Droplet" was a portable weapon specially designed for the Holy Fire Warriors by the Logistics Bureau.

The whole thing is spherical in shape, with horizontal and vertical stripes engraved on the steel shell, looking a bit like a peeled pomegranate. One hand can just hold it tightly or throw it out.

The sealed steel shell is filled with a ball of clear water.

When using it, the Holy Fire Warrior only needs to infuse it with the power of flame. After a breath or two, the steam bursts out in an instant, the steel shatters, and the high-temperature water mist spreads everywhere, instantly turning the area within ten steps into hell.

After using it once, all the Holy Fire Warriors praised the Droplet.

Before this, their flame power could only be stored in their bodies for a long time. Once it left the body, it would instantly turn into flames and high temperature.

The power of flame is limited.

If they had to use a large range or a long dragon-shaped flame to kill distant enemies, the consumption would be so great that it would not be able to support the entire battle.

Therefore, close combat is still the first option for the Holy Fire Warriors.

Now.

The Droplet just makes up for this deficiency of the Holy Fire Warriors.

Although they don't know how the Droplet delays the outbreak of flame power, it does not prevent the Holy Fire Warriors from using it to achieve a perfect victory.

After everyone was in position, Beric Dondarrion issued an order.

Throw! Throw! Throw!

Every Holy Fire Warrior threw three "Droplets" in a short half-breath.

The town's patrol hadn't reacted yet.

The continuous explosions and roars drowned out all the noises, and fragments, high temperatures, and white and light red water mist swept everything.

Beric Dondarrion led the charge, and two hundred Holy Warriors attacked together.

Stables, baggage, barracks.

The Holy Fire Warriors rushed straight to their targets, unleashing flames and destroying the rebels' reliance on launching counterattacks.

The Holy Shield Warriors charged back and forth among the enemy troops, without any defense, only caring about killing the enemies in front of them. As a result, they were unscathed, while others were either dead or injured.

A few priests and warlocks were responsible for assisting their teammates and did not actively kill the enemy.

But if anyone dared to provoke them, a fleeting wound and distorted earth, stone, and steel would be enough to make them doubt the reality of the world.

The night raid plan was successfully completed.

Half of the two thousand rebels were either dead or surrendered, and the other half who escaped had no horses or rations, and even lost their armor and abandoned their swords.

Next is the cleanup.

Compared to the scattered defeated soldiers in the inland, this large group of defeated soldiers on the west coast was easier to hunt down, so they were put to the end.

Originally, they could have been tortured for a few more days, but there was no time.

Stone Dance City before sunset today.

Calculating the journey, Beric Dondarrion urged, "What have you decided? Leave your lives to witness the future, or silently sleep at the bottom of the sea?"

Norbert and Bruce looked at each other.

They threw their swords into the sand.

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