Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

“God, I did it…” she murmured with a faint smile, her voice low and hoarse.

Joffrey felt it.

Formless magic surged wildly into the priestess’s abdomen, then dissipated throughout her body.

In an instant.

Her eyes were exceptionally bright, like fiery red coals, and the scattered beads of sweat on her skin also shone, rising and falling with her breath, her hair, lips, fingers…

Melisandre glowed all over, like a holy spirit.

She had become the vessel for another being to descend.

Her eyes stared straight at Joffrey, as if she wanted to say something more.

But it couldn’t wait.

The scorching and fierce power within her body was restless, Melisandre trembled all over, panting heavily, and laboriously parted her legs.

“Ah~~~”

Blood kept gushing from between her thighs, but it was as black as ink. She cried out, unable to tell whether it was pain or fanaticism, or perhaps both.

Before long.

The head of a child wearing a crown struggled to squeeze out of her body, followed by two hands, they twisted, gripped, black fingers tightly grabbing Melisandre’s bleeding thighs, pushing, pushing, until the entire shadow entered this world.

Silent and eerie.

It crawled two steps like a baby, and the body formed by the shadow stretched and extended, instantly growing into an adult, the shadow projected and shrouded the entire space.

It stood up, much taller than Joffrey.

It straightened its body, the room could only show the part below its chest, and the shoulders, neck, and head above it turned into a thick shadow attached to the ceiling, like a soul-devouring black hole.

It had no face, deep and real, like a pile of black ink, thin and empty, as if it were just a shadow reflected by the fire.

But Joffrey certainly recognized it.

The person who cast this shadow was himself.

The shadow assassin.

Joffrey stared at it obsessively, but it didn’t react at all.

“Your Majesty~” Melisandre called out weakly, “Come and rest, it needs you to dream a dream.”

A strange suction force was coming at this moment, craving Joffrey’s spirit and soul.

“Sandor!” Joffrey shouted.

The “Hound” pushed open the door and appeared in response, just like a watchdog.

Joffrey unbuttoned his clothes and took off his shirt, “Leave all the fighting outside to you, just follow the plan.”

Joffrey glanced at him, “Don’t bite too many of my lambs to death. Ownerless sheep pose no threat, they are just wealth waiting to be taken.”

“Before sunset, end it all.”

The “Hound” nodded calmly as usual, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Go.”

Joffrey lay down on another clean bed, closed his eyes, and no longer resisted the strange suction force.

In an instant.

His soul floated out of his body and into the tall, dark shadow.

He opened his eyes.

The world had completely changed. Color had lost its meaning, there was only light and darkness, life and soul, energy and particles containing truth.

He looked forward, the waves were turbulent and noisy, the floating gray smoke swayed and merged into the black and white background.

He looked down, the hard stone wall had become a riddled hourglass, countless particles went in and out, and the information was clear at a glance. Half of the shadow’s body and Melisandre were in the room below.

He looked up, the airflow was constantly surging, and small light silver birds occasionally crossed the sky, leaving a long trail.

He turned to look behind him.

Countless thick gray smoke gathered in the air outside Storm's End, forming a huge ring, although it was slowly dissipating, countless thin smoke rose slowly from below, maintaining this spectacle.

It was the dense silver light that created the gray smoke. One by one dazzling and delicious souls.

He saw a small hill.

A piece of silver light gathered there. There was one soul that was particularly tempting.

Renly.

Joffrey knew.

Why Renly? What was different about him? What was the connection between the king’s blood and the soul? Who would have the king’s blood? Is it really just bloodline?

Another question was added.

But now was not a good time to study. Joffrey immersed himself in his spirit, trying to explore the magical power of the shadow and control this special body.

It was not difficult. The shadow itself was already eager to move.

Silently, he had crossed half of Storm's End and arrived within the city wall closest to Renly.

The shadow sent him an instinctive signal of resistance. Joffrey knew it was because of the magical aura within the wall. But this magic had been modified by him and would be able to coexist peacefully with the shadow from now on.

He遁入 the earth.

The gray underground world was a blur, full of starlike dim light spots, chaotic and difficult to distinguish.

Fortunately, the tempting soul ahead guided the correct direction.

He sneaked towards the target.

The shadow was not as fast as light, but it always arrived before sound.

Arrived.

Just directly above.

He heard the lively banquet on the ground.

Renly sighed: “Although we all know the truth, some people still think he is my blood relative. Well, as they wish, we will bury him instead of showing off his head on a spear everywhere.”

Joffrey couldn’t help but be stunned, was this talking about me?

Earl Ralph Buckler of Bronzegate was the first to agree, “This is the true kingly demeanor. A toast to forgiveness for justice!”

Everyone present understood that it was indeed necessary.

There can only be one king.

“Cheers!”

People raised their glasses and drank it all, hiding their thoughts in the wine.

Okay. Joffrey looked at Ralph Buckler with a silly smile. Then you will be the first.

He stretched out his right hand.

The ink-black shadow separated from his body, flowing and climbing onto his right hand, gradually extending…

A shadow sword.

Looking along the blade, it was as thin as a cicada's wing, as if it did not exist at all. From another angle, it was a plane, a darkness deeper than Valyrian steel.

“Everyone,” Renly said with a smile on his face.

The tent suddenly darkened.

Was it an illusion?

Renly seemed to be aware of something and looked at a seat.

The candlelight flickered and trembled. The shadow changed and swayed, raising the sword. That shadow-like sword…

“So cold,” Ralph Buckler said in a subtle and confused tone. A small and rough gasp made him completely collapse.

Pfft~~ Dong!

Fresh blood spurted powerfully from his neck, covering the golden silk above, splashing on the faces and mouths of the people around, and washing away his head.

The head rolled and rolled, eventually facing King Renly on the high platform.

“Monster!”

The tent suddenly exploded!

The tall shadow stood up, its height just touching the top of the camp, and its body was more solid and dark. The tent was also completely wrapped in shadows.

Renly stared at the crown on top of the shadow’s head.

“Joffrey!!”

The shadow did not speak, but paced calmly, dealing with one target after another.

People screamed, shouted, and ran away frantically. But the shadow that devoured everything dissolved all their efforts.

Randyll Tarly pressed the shadow cloth behind him. So hard and thick.

It's over.

He understood that no one could escape…

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