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90.93% A Song of Ice and Fire: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon / Chapter 732: Chapter 732: Sacrifice

章 732: Chapter 732: Sacrifice

"Perceive the essence of the world, truth surrounds you, everything is clear at a glance."

"Darkness reigns in the long night, danger lurks everywhere, but in the light of day, prosperity thrives."

The night was deep and silent.

Yet, the temple of R'hllor was brightly lit. The Flame's Hand, guardians of the temple, sat kneeling, harmoniously chanting the Song of Truth.

During a recent assault, Gillian fell into a trap. He was gravely wounded and captured alive. Now, he was chained to a makeshift pyre, roaring incessantly. It seemed he had lost all reason, transformed entirely into a monstrous being.

The High Priest of the Red Faith, Benerro, personally presided over this sacrifice. Leading the congregation in their chant, he then, through some arcane magic, pointed a single hand towards the moon. Clenching his fist, as his voice reached its peak, flames erupted from his palm.

This sudden display startled those in attendance, including Asha Greyjoy, the bandaged Victarion, and a few Ironborn who had taken residence in the temple.

They had once lived on the bleak Iron Islands, where, aside from cheap iron ore, even food was scarce. Such a barren land where even birds wouldn't deign to defecate. How could these Ironborn have ever witnessed such a spectacle?

If they stayed in the temple of R'hllor any longer, Asha and Victarion might remain unaffected, but the Ironborn behind them might be tempted to convert to the Red Faith.

After all, the priests of the Red Faith were exceptionally skilled in proselytizing. Otherwise, they wouldn't have flourished worldwide.

Benerro ignited the wood beneath the pyre with a fireball from his palm. The flames began to slowly burn, and the chants of the congregation grew more fervent.

Yet, Benerro was not satisfied with the pace. With both hands, he cast two more fireballs, fully igniting the wood beneath. A massive fire blazed.

Gillian, though his mind was clouded and he had become a monstrous being, still retained the primal instincts of an animal.

Sensing danger, he began to struggle violently, letting out a piercing scream. This scream almost drowned out the chanting of the Flame's Hand below, but it was in vain.

The High Priest stood before the pyre, his gaze unwavering as he watched the flames consume the monster. His lips continued to move in prayer.

The red-robed priests behind him remained calm and composed until Gillian's screams reached their peak.

A silhouette, half-man, half-fish, writhed within the flames. Eventually, it fell, and the screams faded. Only then did the red-robed priests breathe a sigh of relief.

Capturing this frenzied creature had come at a great cost. Several of the Flame's Hand had been torn apart during the skirmish. The guardians of the temple of R'hllor always numbered a thousand, no more, no less. For every fallen guardian, another would replace him.

The flames slowly died down, leaving the pyre in ruins. The demon within had been reduced to ashes, with only a few fragmented bones remaining. These were collected by the arriving red-robed priests in wooden boxes.

Its remains would serve as a testament to the congregation, proof that the red-robed priests had burned a true demon alive. With such evidence, how could they not attract more followers?

"The demon has been sacrificed to the true God. The emissaries should no longer be attacked," Benerro approached the still somewhat shaken Asha and Victarion and said.

"Is he truly dead?" Asha inquired.

"That was just a trivial display of the power bestowed by the true God," Benerro replied nonchalantly. "Fire is power."

Asha had never felt such a strong urge to convert to the faith of R'hllor. If believing in the Red God granted one magic...

When the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead invaded Pyke, Asha, her father King Balon, and countless Ironborn had no means to resist. The Iron Islands had fallen, becoming a haven for the dead.

Especially when Benerro mentioned 'Fire is power,' Asha strongly agreed. She had seen dragons and believed in the power of fire.

Perhaps, in a world without magic or dragons, more weapons relying on fire would emerge.

At that moment, the red-robed priest, Machorro, who had recently saved Asha's life, approached. The demon's remains had been collected.

"High Priest," he greeted, then turned to Asha, "Emissary."

"Thank you, Priest Machorro, for your timely assistance," Asha nodded in gratitude.

"I will send Machorro to King's Landing to meet with the Emperor," Benerro announced.

The matter had been settled earlier. Asha wasn't sure about the internal disputes within the Red Faith, but it was evident that Benerro, the High Priest, and Melisandre, the Emperor's confidante and now vice-chancellor of the theological academy controlling the Red Faith in Westeros, were not from the same faction.

Every time Melisandre was mentioned recently, Benerro seemed wary. Although she was just a regular priestess, she was not to be trifled with.

Sending Machorro to King's Landing had the dual purpose of seeking the truth and gaining power.

After all, Westeros was a land of immense potential. The false gods' lies were unraveling, and more and more followers were choosing the Red Faith.

With so many religions in Westeros, from the Old Gods of the North, the Seven of the Andals, the rapidly expanding Red Faith, the nature spirits of Dorne, to the least followed Drowned God, the Red Faith had a lot of competition.

Yet, the Red Faith was growing, and with evidence like the burned demon, their numbers would only increase.


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