We all woke up early in the morning. And yes, all of us brushed our teeth. After I introduced toothbrushes and toothpaste to this world, there was no stopping it. The three boys use it, Rhaenyra uses it, even Daemon — after some initial grumbling — brushes daily now. I've started a dental hygiene revolution.
After freshening up, we got down to business. The treasure map's clue said the treasure laybeneath a rock that has a skull on it, and that the sun falls on its face as it prepares to set. Which means the skull has to be facing west. So now we're all out here, looking for a creepy-ass rock skull that's staring at the sunset like it's waiting for a death flag to trigger.
Of course, we couldn't just fly around to spot it — the tree cover was too thick. The dragons were left at the cave for safety, though Zalrazar was flying high above us, circling like a giant black hawk of death.
The jungle in the early morning was gorgeous. No noise except birds chirping, streams bubbling, and the occasional grunt of Daemon complaining about stepping in mud. Dew clung to the grass. There was no stink of rot or filth like Flea Bottom — just fresh air and sunlight breaking through the canopy.
Rhaenyra was practically skipping around, poking mushrooms and examining butterflies like she was on a school field trip, man I wish she knew what field trip was. Gael was humming softly, clearly just happy to be included. I was enjoying this too — a rare peaceful moment, with family and friends, the kind you want to trap in a snow globe forever. If only I wasn't completely unaware of the giant fanged danger stalking us in the shadows.
After over two hours of wandering and deciphering terrain, we finally found it — a large stone jutting out from the ground with a skull carved into it. It was faint but unmistakable. The skull faced west. It was our marker.
The forest went eerily quiet. That unnatural kind of silence that tells you something's about to go very wrong.
And then — the roar.
Not a dragon's.
Not human.
Bear.
{ A/N : I know bear don't roar before they attack}
A massive brown bear, easily twice the size of any normal one, came charging from the trees about 50 feet away. Hungry, pissed, and fast.
Instantly, we snapped into formation. I grabbed Rhaenyra and Gael and pushed them behind me. Rolly and Hobb stepped up just behind Daemon, who took point with Dark Sister drawn. Todric was in front of us with his bow already nocked and drawn, eyes locked on the threat.
I blew my whistle — one long note, sharp and loud. Zalrazar heard it. I looked up and spotted him, about 800 meters above. At his speed, he'd take maybe 10 to 12 seconds to reach us. Problem? The bear would be on us in 5.
"Daemon! Just hold it off! Don't engage!" I shouted.
"Shut it, brat!" he yelled back, as predictable as ever.
The bear reared up, towering on two legs like it was preparing for a WWE smackdown. Then it lunged. Hobb raised his tower shield — but the thing was massive, way beyond his weight class. He braced for impact, tilting the shield at a 30-degree angle just in time. The bear slammed into him like a cart crashing into a wall. Hobb was flung back five feet, crashing into the dirt, his arm limp.
Daemon didn't wait. He flanked from the right, slicing forward with Dark Sister. The blade sank an inch into the bear's flank — but that was it. Before he could go deeper, the bear swung with a left jab and forced Daemon to leap back, narrowly avoiding a crushed skull.
Rolly darted in behind the bear and tried to stab at its ribs, but the beast twisted, and his sword barely grazed its leg — totally ineffective.
Todric loosed an arrow — it struck true, right in the neck, but the bear was still standing. It let out a pained bellow, its eyes now wild and desperate.
Rolly backed off immediately. Hobb groaned and got back on his feet, but his shield arm was down — dislocated, maybe fractured. That left just Daemon in melee range.
I looked up — Zalrazar was almost here, wings slicing through the air like divine judgement. But Daemon was too close for a clean dive.
I had no choice.
I pulled my trump card from my satchel — a small glass orb, filled with crushed chili, pepper dust, and powdered garlic. Homebrewed hell. A medieval tear gas grenade.
"Eat this, Walmart Bronze Bit*h," I muttered, and hurled it straight at the bear's face.
Smash.
Glass shards exploded. Red powder coated the bear's snout and eyes.
The reaction was instant. The bear started shrieking and pawing at its face, blind and in agony. I couldn't resist.
I raised my arms theatrically, struck a pose mid-throw, and shouted at the top of my lungs:
"With this treasure I summon…
TWO WINGED DICKLESS FLYING DIVINE GENERAL — ZALRAZAR!!!"
{ A/N: Make your own version and comment it}
And right on cue — BOOM.
2,000 kilograms of pure draconic muscle crashed from the heavens, right onto the bear. Bones crunched. The earth shook.
Silence.
Well , GG's now he is Zalrazar's food.