“Damn, missed!” Theon Greyjoy cursed, pulling another Dragonsteel Arrow from the quiver on his back and nocking it onto the bowstring. “That bastard is so agile he can dodge arrows in the dark. How are we supposed to deal with that?”

(Can you die if you don’t show off?) Ygritte rolled her eyes, inwardly sneering. If Theon weren’t sworn brothers with her man and actually somewhat skilled, she would’ve mocked him outright by now. This loudmouth was deliberately yelling just so everyone knew the previous arrow wasn’t a miss but had been dodged by the enemy.

“If it can dodge, then shoot the dragon first. Didn’t you see it open its eyes just now and nearly turn into a wight?”

Without sparing Theon another glance, the red-haired archer quietly nocked an arrow, drew her bow, and decisively released her first shot.

Knowing her archery and equipment weren’t on par with the others, Ygritte didn’t even aim for the White Walkers. Instead, she targeted the center of the dragon’s massive body. The finely-crafted Lightbringer arrow flew across dozens of meters and buried itself into the white dragon’s shoulder blade. As the humming from the arrow shaft sticking out of the corpse ceased, the reanimated body that had just begun to stir instantly froze, falling silent.

These two arrows extinguished the threat of the dragon becoming a wight, but they also enraged the White Walker standing beside it. It turned, let out a roar in a language none could understand, and the surrounding wights all turned and charged in their direction.

…

The main force of the Gift Lands Army had gone to assist the two dragons still alive. Only this team from Castle Black, led by Jon Snow, had broken off to deal with Viserion’s body. To ensure success, in addition to the three Castle Black rangers led by Jeremy Rykker, Aegor had also assigned Theon Greyjoy, Ygritte, and Beric Dondarrion—six total, including the second and third place finishers from the Crown Town archery contest—bringing with them nearly half of the remaining thirty-plus Lightbringers to finish the job.

Such a formidable team, just to prevent the birth of a corpse dragon.

“Brothers, form up, prepare for battle!” Jon called out loudly.

Although there were fewer than a hundred in this disposal squad, they were all rangers from Castle Black. Not only were they proper Night’s Watch brothers, but their combat strength and discipline far exceeded the average level of the Gift Lands Army. Armed with sufficient anti-wight equipment, even facing enemies three times their number, they showed no fear.

Thoros, who had come with the Lord of Blackhaven, drew his sword and, after wiping it with Wildfire, turned it into the famous “flaming sword.” The rangers in black also took out bombs and other weapons. A small but intense battle quickly broke out not far from the main battlefield.

…

After a brief discussion, the six archers loosed a round of shots at the White Walker attempting to revive the corpse dragon. But that pale figure was unbelievably agile, dodging all six arrows with ease. Worse still, in the next moment, it bent down and picked something up, seemingly preparing to retaliate.

“Damn it, I’ve only got one left,” Theon muttered in frustration. As the runner-up in the archery contest, he hadn’t managed to score a single kill during the Crown Town defense due to the chaos of the fires. He’d hoped to redeem himself by landing the first shot here. Who would have thought he’d miss twice in a row, now finding himself out of arrows and out of options.

The other archers, most of whom had only been issued two arrows, responded with silent eye-rolls. They ignored him and began quietly discussing their next move.

“Forget it, let’s clear out the wights first. Get closer, then figure something out!” Jon quickly made a decision, drawing his Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, and gave the order to engage.

No sooner had he spoken than the enemy struck back.

Amid the sound of rushing wind, Theon, who had just returned his final Lightbringer arrow to his quiver and was preparing to switch to a dragonglass arrow to fight the wights, suddenly toppled backward with a dull thud, landing stiffly in the snow.

“Theon?” Jon rushed to him, crouched down, and lifted his sworn brother. There was a bowl-sized dent in Theon’s chest, with blood gushing from the cracked armor and torn flesh. After more than ten years of friendship, they were now parted by death.

“Take cover! Watch out for ranged attacks!”

Before the warning could fully spread across the battlefield, another stone came flying. Jeremy Rykker, who had just taken half a step forward, had his left arm smashed off, the limb dangling only by bits of skin and armor.

“Don’t stand still! Anyone who just fired, move!” Ygritte, mere feet away, was nearly scared out of her mind, but her instincts as an archer told her something crucial. The first two hit were the best archers in their team—the enemy was likely identifying them by the trajectory of their arrows, targeting the most skilled in order. She hadn’t been hit only because she wasn’t among the best.

“Don’t stay out in the open! Get into the crowd!”

The third Castle Black ranger followed her warning, quickly changing position, and narrowly avoided the next flying stone. All the archers crouched low, drew their melee weapons, and joined the rest of the soldiers in battling the wights. As they mixed with the others, using the enemy as cover, they made it impossible for the White Walkers to tell who posed the greatest threat.

Jon retrieved the Dragonsteel Arrows that had belonged to Theon and Jeremy and handed them to Ygritte. Holding Longclaw, he charged into the battle himself to eliminate the surrounding wights.

—

This was a small-scale, high-intensity battle.

With bombs, Wildfire, dragonglass, and Valyrian steel weapons, this disposal team had an extravagant arsenal. With well-coordinated tactics, the rangers—veterans of many battles against the dead—managed to wipe out over two hundred wights guarding the White Walkers, at the cost of just over twenty casualties. As for the White Walkers that had attacked the archers earlier with stones, once the dragonglass arrow threat had ceased, they simply began attacking at random.

Under the bombardment of flying stones and frozen earth, soldiers fell one after another, some silently, others screaming. One White Walker alone had killed or crippled nearly ten rangers, forcing the survivors to zigzag left and right as they closed in, trying to stay alive.

This White Walker, likely a newly promoted leader, looked no different from the others, but its combat strength was formidable.

After confirming with a dragonglass bomb that it still wore ice armor, Jon ordered everyone to attack at once, to entangle and disrupt its movements. The archers were to watch for any moment when it lost balance or was delayed, then shoot and kill it in one strike.

“I’ll distract it with the fire sword. You shoot it with the Lightbringer!” Thoros, reeking of wine, said to Dondarrion. “The Lord of Light brought us to the Wall for this moment. You must hit.”

The Lord of Blackhaven nodded solemnly, watching as the red priest raised his flaming sword and joined the remaining forty-plus Night’s Watch men in flanking the White Walker beside the white dragon’s corpse.

The first wave of soldiers charged from four or five directions at once, dragonglass spears in hand. The combined attacks left no room for the enemy to dodge or block… but it didn’t need to. The First Cold Priest drew his Ice Sword, reinforced his armor with remaining magic, and with a single slash severed the shaft of the nearest spear, opening a wide wound in the soldier’s torso. Using his armor to absorb the other attacks he couldn’t avoid, the White Walker stood like a rock in a storm, unshaken. He easily cut down and injured several soldiers, while those armed with Dragonsteel Arrows found no opening to fire.

“Fall back. Those with steel swords, go in and tie him down!” Jon shouted. Dragonglass spears, with wooden shafts and stone heads, were effective against wights but couldn’t withstand a single blow from a White Walker. Realizing this, Jon lunged forward with Longclaw.

The strange light flashing from the Valyrian steel blade alerted the White Walker. It no longer allowed the sword to strike but raised its own blade to block. With a sharp clang, it was stunned—the Ice Sword had cracked. The weapon in the human’s hands was not only stronger than its magic weapon, but also contained power capable of destroying ice magic.

These humans not only had arrows that could kill it from afar, but swords that could kill it up close.

Jon was just as stunned, but his shock was soon replaced by a powerful sense of fate. Four years after seeing Waymar Royce’s shattered sword, he finally experienced the strength of the White Walkers firsthand.

Uncle Benjen, I will avenge you now.

Ignoring the numbness in his arm, Jon gripped his sword with both hands and committed himself to the fight.

“Clang!”

“Clang!”

“Crack!”

The Chief Cold God Priest had inherited the Night King’s power. His strength far surpassed that of any ordinary White Walker. Even at a weapon disadvantage, he did not retreat. But the human side had no intention of fighting fair. After several clashes, cracks spread quickly across the Ice Sword, threatening to break at any moment. Forced to retreat a few steps to gather his strength and repair his weapon, he was suddenly blocked by Thoros, who struck his back with the flaming sword.

Steel coated in Wildfire should not have been able to damage a White Walker, especially one protected by ice armor. But the Cold Priest clearly felt the searing heat from that strike. As he poured magic into repairing his weapon and maintaining his armor, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his body cold enough to resist fire.

With a low growl, the White Walker turned and grabbed the flaming sword. The ice armor protected his fingers, so he was not cut. To everyone’s shock, he extinguished the Wildfire in an instant. A moment later, the sword itself began to crack.

With a sharp ringing sound, the fire sword was destroyed.

It should have been a powerful display, but the more the Cold Priest moved, the more openings he exposed.

“Move!” Ygritte shouted. The four remaining archers, watching intently from twenty yards away, had already divided their roles. As the White Walker retreated from Longclaw, then turned and destroyed Thoros’s sword, they seized that brief moment of stillness.

Jon halted. Thoros quickly withdrew. Four Lightbringer arrows shot forward from four directions—up, down, left, and right—leaving no room to escape. The Cold Priest managed to deflect one, dodged two more, but the fourth struck him in the thigh.

With a sharp crack, the Ice Sword shattered in his hand. The timing was so precise it was hard to say whether the sword broke from deflecting the arrow or because the wielder was hit. The White Walker stood frozen, seemingly stunned, but the expected instant death didn’t occur. The arrow that hit him had been forged from leftover Valyrian steel scraps. Though it contained fire energy, it wasn’t strong enough to kill a magical ice being instantly.

But Jon didn’t give him a chance to recover. In the next breath, he charged and swung Longclaw in a vicious horizontal arc, ending the battle for good.

(To be continued.)

◇◇◇

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep