Chapter 298: Divine Punishment

Aegon’s gaze swept over the group of distorted faces and clamoring septons of the Seven.

The morning light reflected off his silver hair, leaving not a trace of warmth in those violet eyes.

It seemed that hanging the High Sparrow and his band of fanatical followers outside the city walls last time had failed to completely cow these people.

Perhaps his decision to only punish the ringleaders and swiftly restore order after the riot in King’s Landing had even been misinterpreted as some form of weakness.

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet it pierced through the clamor:

“The past prosperity of the Church of the Seven was a gift from generations of Targaryen kings.”

“It is the Crown that permits the existence of religious authority, not the other way around.”

“Now, the Crown has decided that this land shall welcome a new faith. As for the dragon… the dragon is the emblem and power of the Targaryen bloodline, the symbol of the Dragonlord’s authority. When did it become your place to question it?”

These words were like adding fuel to the fire.

A particularly young septon lunged forward, nearly colliding with a spear tip, and shrieked:

“Dragons? The Targaryen are nothing but mortals who happened to tame dragons! You blasphemers who have forsaken the Seven and worship monsters, do you not fear the true divine punishment that is to come?!”

“Divine punishment?”

The corners of Aegon’s mouth twitched, not in a smile, but in a cold arc.

He did not look at the young septon again, but instead cast his gaze indifferently into the void, raised his right hand with extreme nonchalance, and flicked it downward.

Everyone froze.

Boom—!

A deafening roar tore through the morning sky!

A beam of golden light, so intense it defied description, struck straight down from the clear, cloudless sky, striking with pinpoint accuracy and instantly consuming the young septon who had been screaming!

The blinding white light and shockwave caused everyone to instinctively close their eyes. When the harsh glare faded, they looked on in terror—

Only a charred human silhouette remained imprinted on the ground, wisps of smoke rising from it.

The young septon was gone, replaced by a small patch of scorched earth with a radial, glass-like texture.

Dead silence.

Aegon lowered his hand, his voice flat:

“Divine punishment? I have given you the divine punishment you asked for.”

“The Targaryen divine punishment is right here.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the charred mark. “Now, tell me, where are your Seven?”

The fanaticism on the septons’ faces was replaced by terror and disbelief.

The three-headed dragon was clearly not there!

Where did this thunder come from?

Could it be that this Targaryen himself could summon lightning?

“No… impossible!” Another voice rang out, hoarse and trembling, filled with the madness of someone burning their bridges.

An elderly septon, his face scarred with the deepest and most numerous carvings of the seven-pointed star, to the point of disfigurement.

The last embers of fire burned in his eyes as he stared fixedly at Aegon, then glanced at the charred patch, before suddenly turning to the septons behind him and spreading his arms:

“Even if there is a false god! It is but a heresy! How can it compare to the supreme glory of the Seven?!”

He suddenly turned toward the large pit in the center of the construction site formed by the excavation of the foundation, wore a smile of near-pilgrim-like madness, and lunged toward the pit.

“Your Grace! If you remain obstinate, refuse to return to the true faith of the Seven, and continue to build this blasphemous temple… we shall die right here!”

Before the words had even faded, he reached the edge of the pit and leaped!

“Let my flesh and my bones lay the foundation beneath this heretical church! My soul shall ascend to the Seven Heavens! And you, Aegon Targaryen, shall surely fall into the Seven Hells!”

His body fell into the deep pit, emitting a dull thud.

After a brief, dead silence, several more among the remaining septons wore the same look of resolve.

“For the Seven!”

“Let our blood awaken this blasphemer!”

They shouted, one after another, and jumped into the deep pit. From within the pit came the sounds of bodies colliding and suppressed groans of pain, followed immediately by even louder oaths, mixed with weeping and fanaticism, rising from the bottom:

“Aegon Targaryen! If you persist in your folly, then bury us alive here!”

“The Seven be our witness!”

The scene was bizarre and horrifying. Even Melisandre frowned slightly.

She looked at Aegon.

Aegon merely watched calmly.

There was no expression on his face. In the depths of his violet eyes, there was only an impenetrable coldness.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice not loud, yet it instantly silenced the clamor both inside and outside the pit:

“This place is a sanctuary built for the new faith of the Targaryen. Your deaths here, buried underground, will only defile this land and desecrate the temple that is about to rise.”

A gasp of astonishment rose from the bottom of the pit.

Aegon slowly raised his hand, making that downward gesture once more.

“Since you are so devout, and so eager to see the Seven you worship… then I shall send you on your way.”

The sky suddenly darkened.

An immense shadow, like the thickest of storm clouds, instantly enveloped the entire construction site.

Everyone looked up involuntarily—

They saw that pale golden, mountain-sized three-headed dragon, having appeared at a very low altitude above them without anyone knowing when.

Its three ferocious heads hung low, six molten-gold vertical pupils staring coldly down at the pit below.

There was no roar, no warning.

Three massive, tooth-filled maws opened simultaneously, and heart-stopping golden light ignited deep within their throats, instantly condensing into three suns of destruction.

The next second, three golden lightning bolts, as thick as water barrels, shrieked as they tore through the air, striking down fiercely from the sky.

With pinpoint accuracy, they plummeted straight into the pit!

“Argh—!”

A short, desperate scream erupted from the bottom of the pit, only to be completely swallowed by the searing white light that exploded as the lightning struck—a light a thousand times brighter than the noon sun.

The deafening explosion made the earth tremble violently, and those nearby were knocked over by the shockwave.

A scorching blast of air, mixed with dust and the smell of burning, swept outward.

When the destructive light dissipated, people looked tremblingly toward where the lightning had struck—

The original foundation pit, several meters deep, had vanished.

In its place was a massive, charred crater, its diameter expanded several times over, with irregularly torn edges.

The soil and rock on the crater walls had been instantly melted by the high temperature, forming smooth, cross-sections that shimmered with a dull, glass-like luster.

The pit was bottomless, with only wisps of smoke rising from the depths.

Those septons who had jumped into the pit, along with their fanatical faith and oaths of martyrdom, had been completely wiped from this world.

Aegon withdrew his gaze, as if he had merely done an insignificant trifle.

He glanced at the surrounding onlookers who had collapsed to the ground, pale and bloodless, then turned to Melisandre beside him and commanded:

“Continue building the church.”

Having said this, he did not linger.

The morning breeze ruffled his black robes, and his silver hair fluttered slightly in the wind.

Melisandre stood where she was, her deep red eyes lingering on Aegon’s retreating back for a long time, before slowly shifting toward the massive scorched crater.

The ruby at her throat grew slightly warm.

That was not the power of flame, nor was it the might of the lord of light that she was familiar with.

“A Dragon God…” she whispered to herself, “Perhaps… it is not much different from a god.”

She withdrew her gaze, turned to the craftsmen who were scared senseless, and clapped her hands:

“The divine miracle has manifested, and the blasphemers have suffered divine retribution. Continue working.”

The craftsmen tremblingly picked up their tools again, their movements stiff.

An old craftsman looked at the crater, then at the area originally planned for the foundation, his facial muscles twitching as he muttered in a low voice: “This pit is certainly deep and big enough… but it’s been burned into a glass shell, how are we supposed to fill it and lay the foundation?”

The foreman wiped away a cold sweat and said in a low voice: “Less talk! If His Grace wants it built, then we build it. There’s always a way to deal with this pit.”

On the construction site of the Great Temple of the Dragon God, the sounds of hammering and chanting rose once again, much more subdued than before.