Chapter 21 Three-Eyed Crow

This is the same magic power as the Heart Tree. Clay is even sure that the end of the thread blocked by his vision must be connected to Winterfell and even the largest Heart Tree in the entire North.

In the empty hall of Winterfell, little Bran put his head on Clay's shoulder. The little boy's face was filled with a cute smile, mixed with a little bit of confusion.

Clay's heart skipped a beat, and the magic pool was like a reel, suddenly increasing its suction. He no longer absorbed the magic threads on Bran, but began to pull the invisible threads that passed through the wall.

Clay wants to see what he can pull out!

Within a few seconds, the silk thread was pulled from a loose state to a straight one. Clay clearly felt a strange pulling force. This was not something his touch told him, but more like it was directly reflected in his brain. .

try again!

Except for Clay, no one present could see these magic threads. In their eyes, only Clay liked Bran's performance, and none of them, including Clay, noticed that the hall with the open door suddenly flew into the air. Entered a crow.

This black crow landed on the chandelier, its dark yellow eyes turned, looking at Clay's back with an extremely human and cold gaze, and that gaze was full of hostility.

Clay's witcher senses were turned on to the maximum. He patted Bran on the back and talked to him about bringing him something Bran liked the next time they met.

But in fact, he had been pulling on the magic thread that was about to break, and he seemed to be able to hear the moaning sound from the magic thread.

Suddenly, Clay felt a strong smell of corruption. The reason why he felt it rather than smelled it was because it was also filled directly into his brain, making Clay instinctively uncomfortable.

In this smell, Clay also felt a strong chill, as if there was an iceberg standing behind him that would never melt.

"Pa" an illusory breaking sound sounded, but unfortunately no one heard it. The magic thread finally ran out of power and was torn into two pieces by Clay.

Like a tentacle, the end connected to the unknown part quickly retracted, and Bran's end, as the magic thread broke, the magic thread wrapped around Bran's body was like a plant's vines that lost nutrition and turned into a magic thread in an instant. It must dry up and wither, and finally turn into the gray color representing death and dissipate into the air.

Before he had time to think about this sudden change, a hoarse murmur suddenly sounded in Clay's ears:

"You win, Agent of Ability God."

A huge pulling force suddenly appeared on every part of Clay's body. Before Clay could make a move, his vision blurred and his brain became confused.

When he saw it clearly again, the expression on Clay's face was frozen.

Everything he saw told him that his body was no longer in the halls of Winterfell.

"You seem surprised, Ability God Agent."

A pale and monotonous voice sounded from behind, and Clay suddenly came back to his senses. He saw a figure wrapped in a black robe.

"Who are you?" Clay asked in a deep voice, raising his hand to form a seal.

A light yellow circular shield appeared, wrapping Clay inside.

Witcher's Seal - Quen!

"I'm... just a withered bone." The figure walked in and took off his hood.

His long, snow-white hair hangs down, but looks withered and twisted. He has only one eye, and the pupil is as red as blood.

The roots of some kind of plant emerged from the socket of its other eyeless eye, and some fungi grew on his forehead.

This appearance is a bit like the gods and ghosts related to nature in some myths, but Clay can feel that there is not much vitality in the body in front of him, and most of them are filled with the breath of death.

"Yes, it's this... the smell of a strange god." His smooth voice seemed to be telling a simple fact.

Clay recalled the conversation just now. The other party called himself "Agent God"?

Feeling something in his heart, Clay estimated that what the other party was referring to was the ability brought by his own Demon Hunter system.

"You don't need to be so nervous. Your body is full of magic. I have no intention and no ability to hurt you, agent of the gods."

He said, seemingly on purpose, He emphasized the title "Agent of the Strange God" again.

Clay ignored him. He finally had a chance to look at the place where he was. It didn't matter. After just one glance, Clay was shocked.

He saw...the Iron Throne!

It's not that Clay has really seen the Iron Throne in this world, but this chair is so unique that Clay knew it was the Iron Throne the first time he saw it.

It wasn't so much a chair as it was a giant lump of spikes, blades, and twisted metal.

The chair itself was very high, quite high. Clay estimated that including the uneven steps, it was about seven or eight meters high.

So, you are in the throne room? !

Oh My God! It must be thousands of miles away from here. Is there any faster means of transportation in this world than a dragon?

I don't know why, but this sentence popped into Clay's mind.

But then, Clay saw something. It was something that shouldn't be there, and it also made him understand the identity of the person in front of him.

The dragon bone, to be precise, is a huge dragon head, but it has become a skeleton.

Clay remembered that when Robert I usurped the Targaryen throne, these decorative dragon heads were moved to the underground of the Red Keep and replaced by the crowned stag tapestry symbolizing the Baratheon family.

At this point in time, there was no way Clay would see Dragon Bones in the throne room.

Therefore, Clay understood that this was not the current throne room at all, but the historical one.

In other words, Clay is standing in history, or... in someone's memory.

Seeing Clay staring at the Iron Throne and the dragon bone, his voice appeared again:

"Agent God, it seems you already know where this place is."

In a calm tone, He asked:

"So, do you want to sit on it?"

"..." Clay was silent. He didn't want to answer this question, although he already had the answer.

"I see boundless ambition in your body flowing with the magic power of the alien god. I am very surprised why an heir of White Harbor has the desire to sit on this chair. What supports you? What is behind you? A god?"

He didn't seem to expect Clay's answer at all and continued what he said.

"I brought you here to discuss with you. Please don't interfere with me anymore, whether it's the heart tree or the child."

After hearing this, Clay finally came to his senses. His target was not him at all, but Bran!

Then combined with this ability to draw people into the whirlpool of history, his identity is already obvious.

Brynden Rivers, Targaryen's bastard son, Lord Bloodraven, the Three-Eyed Raven!