On the boundless sea, two massive fleets faced each other like black and white stones on a Go board, grim and imposing.
Warships crowded the waters, masts stood like a forest, and countless flags representing different wills and desires snapped in the strengthening wind. The air was thick with the suffocating smell of rust and the deathly silence before a storm.
War was imminent.
Deep beneath the waves, unseen by any sailor or soldier, another "army," more ancient and bloodthirsty, had already been drawn by the unusual commotion and gathered silently.
Schools of sharks, like gray ghosts, swam soundlessly through the cold water. They keenly sensed the abnormal vibrations and sounds from above. More importantly, from the imperceptible currents, they caught a scent that drove them into a frenzy—the rich smell of blood and flesh, heralding a grand feast of death about to descend.
They circled patiently in the massive shadows cast by the warships, waiting.
Even deeper, on the unreachable dark seabed, eight suffocatingly large shadows paced in silence. They were Euron Greyjoy's terrifying pets—eight Sea King creatures of various forms and ferocious nature.
The hideous "King of the Near Sea" swung its giant tail covered in bone spikes; the ghostly "Sea Cat" flashed its claws coldly in the darkness; the metal-scaled "Sawshark" ground its terrifying jaws; "Clown Octopus · Pochi" waved its bizarre, sucker-covered tentacles; the "Magma Giant Turtle", like a moving volcano, emitted a faint red glow from the cracks in its shell; the mountain-like "Iron-Back Whale" stirred turbulent undercurrents with every breath; the "Giant Sea Spider" dug its legs deep into the sea mud; and the slender, deadly "Venomous Sea Serpent" brewed purple death in its glands.
They maintained a hair-raising silence in this ultimate abyss, like sleeping mountains, waiting only for the summons from their sole master on the Silence.
Just then, the dull, massive sound of war drums, like the beating heart of thunder, suddenly penetrated from the surface, shaking the seawater.
The drumbeat was the command!
On the surface, the Iron Fleet began to press forward first. Black sails filled with wind, moving like a wall of death.
On the flanks, the agile Dornish skiffs and the well-equipped warships of House Redwyne moved in unison, like the two edges of a sword, steadily protecting the main fleet's sides. The entire formation displayed steely discipline and lethal threat.
Under this orderly advance, eight pairs of cold, giant eyes in the deep sea slowly opened simultaneously.
---
The vast ocean of the Stepstones, this bloodthirsty region, was thoroughly torn apart.
Hundreds of longships—some painted pitch black for the Iron Islands, others flying the motley, savage banners of the Pirate Alliance—crashed together like herds of rampaging beasts.
In that moment, the thunderous sound of shattering wood drowned out the sky-shaking battle cries and the howling wind, as if the foundation of the world was groaning.
Spears and arrows flew like deadly locusts between the ships. Every dull thud of metal hitting shield or piercing flesh added a cruel note to this symphony of slaughter.
Blood quickly stained the blue water red, attracting more shadows to gather below.
At the start of the battle, relying on their numbers and ferocity, the Pirate Alliance launched a fierce charge. Their ships, like a school of disorganized sharks, tried to overwhelm the Iron Islands' formation with brute force. Rain of arrows poured from their gunwales, trailing fire, attempting to ignite enemy sails.
The allied forces of the Iron Islands, Dorne, and the Arbor displayed a completely different demeanor.
Under Euron's cold gaze, Prince Oberyn's precise flag signals, and Lord Paxter's steady command, this joint fleet operated like a precise, ruthless war machine.
Ironborn longships didn't just smash head-on. Sometimes they sidled nimbly like vipers to avoid desperate collisions, oars slapping the water to adjust position swiftly. Other times, they gathered in packs of three or five to launch a fatal converging attack on an exposed enemy ship, turning it into a pincushion with concentrated crossbows and javelins before scattering quickly, never greedy for prolonged combat.
Dornish skiffs were like dancing poisonous wasps. Extremely fast, they wove around the battlefield's edge, firing precise, tricky poisoned arrows from their recurve bows, constantly harassing the Pirate Alliance's flanks and rear, leaving them unable to tend to both head and tail.
The large warships of House Redwyne formed the backbone of the line. Tall as moving castles, their long rams tore open smaller pirate ships attempting to approach. Ballistae on their decks roared dully, launching flaming oil pots and massive stones at distant enemy vessels, each hit triggering violent explosions and chaos.
The pirates' attack smashed against this wall of discipline, steel, and fire, leaving them bloodied. Their chaotic disorder was full of holes against the measured coordination of the allied forces.
In the moment when the Pirate Alliance's offensive stalled and their formation began to show confusion and hesitation, Euron Greyjoy—the man privately called "Son of the Drowned God" by many—slowly walked to the figurehead of his ship.
No shouting, no roaring. He just quietly gazed at the boiling sea, chanting ancient, obscure words. His voice was low but seemed to penetrate all noise, reaching straight to the deepest parts of the ocean.
An invisible pressure, stemming from the ancient bloodline of the Grey King, spread out like ripples.
---
The sailors of the Pirate Alliance watched in horror as the water around their ships began to boil unnaturally. Not the boiling of blood, but the boiling caused by countless powerful gray dorsal fins cutting the surface!
Hundreds, thousands of sharks, as if hearing a supreme command, fell into utter madness. No longer scavengers waiting for men to fall, they became an active legion of slaughter! With astonishing explosive power, they leaped from the sea, carrying water and fangs, smashing onto the decks of pirate ships like cannonballs!
In an instant, the decks became a hell bloodier than the sea. These marine predators thrashed and bit wildly in the confined spaces. Their sharp teeth easily snapped sailors' calves, dragging unsuspecting pirates to the ground, tearing out entrails instantly. Screams turned from battle cries to the wails of the hunted. Masts, ropes, and barrels were splattered with hot blood and minced flesh. Pirates who were steering, hoisting sails, or shooting arrows were thrown into disarray, forced to turn and fight these terrifying creatures flopping on their decks, unable to maintain any battle formation.
This was merely the appetizer.
As the ghostly blue light in Euron's eyes intensified, the true, soul-freezing terror emerged from the abyss.
Eight shadows, massive enough to blot out the sun, slowly rose from the deep sea beneath the warships.
First to break the surface was the "King of the Near Sea," its head like a small mountain. It let out a deafening roar that nearly capsized nearby small boats, then swept its giant tail. A medium-sized pirate warship was smashed in half like a child's toy, wood chips flying, men falling into the water like dumplings.
The ghostly "Sea Cat" glided silently to the bottom of a pirate ship with incredible speed. Its claws tore through the sturdy hull planks as easily as cutting tofu. Seawater rushed in madly; the ship began to list visibly. Pirates cried and jumped into the sea, only to be instantly devoured by the waiting sharks.
The metal-scaled "Sawshark" used its battering-ram head to smash viciously into a pirate fast ship attempting to flee. Accompanied by the tooth-aching sound of twisting metal and wood, the ship folded in half and sank rapidly.
"Clown Octopus · Pochi" extended its tentacles—massive, sucker-covered pythons—from underwater, firmly wrapping around the mast and gunwales of a large pirate warship. Under the despairing gaze of the crew, the monster exerted force, dragging the ship sideways until it capsized completely, floating upside down on the surface.
The "Magma Giant Turtle," like a moving volcano, surfaced. The scorching lava flowing on its shell contacted the seawater, instantly creating massive amounts of boiling steam, turning its surroundings into a white zone of death. A pirate ship unfortunate enough to be near it had its hull scorched black and set ablaze by the heat; sailors screamed as they were steamed or boiled alive.
The mountain-like "Iron-Back Whale" simply surfaced from below, its immense back lifting three adjacent pirate longships into the air. The ships disintegrated mid-air, crew and debris scattering before raining down.
The "Giant Sea Spider" used its legs like the world's most terrifying spears. Approaching an enemy ship, its sharp tips easily pierced the hull, pinning it in place, then shook and tore madly until the ship became a pile of floating debris.
The slender, deadly "Venomous Sea Serpent" swam at high speed, leaving a curtain of purple poison in its wake. A pirate ship tried to turn to avoid it, but its hull barely grazed the venom. The thick planks corroded and melted at an alarming rate, quickly opening a massive hole. Sinking was inevitable.
The eight deep-sea monsters unleashed their powers, their very existence a natural disaster. The Pirate Alliance fleet fell into complete, indescribable panic and chaos.
Morale?
It was long gone.
Faced with terror beyond imagination, courage became the most laughable thing. They were no longer facing another human fleet, but the wrath of the ocean itself, world-ending monsters from myth!
"The Sea God is angry!"
"It's the Drowned God! The Drowned God is punishing us!"
"Run!!"
Desperate cries and meaningless screams replaced orders. Many pirate ships began to turn desperately, trying to flee this demonic sea, even ramming friendly ships. The formation collapsed completely. They were no longer warriors, but a flock of lambs waiting for slaughter, struggling to survive in purgatory.
In contrast, while the allied forces of the Iron Islands, Dorne, and the Arbor were equally shocked by this earth-shattering power, they knew this power belonged to their side. After brief astonishment came sky-high morale and unparalleled fanaticism!
"For Euron!"
"For the Drowned God!"
They roared, morale like a rainbow, launching a full-scale assault.
Arrows and javelins flew with greater precision and viciousness at the chaotic enemy. Warships ruthlessly rammed those who had lost the will to resist. Warriors leaped nimbly aboard, easily harvesting the lives of pirates whose minds had been utterly destroyed by fear.
The naval battle turned into a one-sided slaughter and hunt. The azure sea was dyed a shocking reddish-brown, with floating debris and corpses covering almost the entire battlefield.
On this day, the Stepstones truly felt the fear of being dominated by a new god. And the name of this new god was Euron Greyjoy.