[Chapter Size: 3400 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Arctic, 299 AC.
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The first ranks of the dead advanced, while the scattered wildfire had ceased.
And in response, the Arctican artillery prepared itself. Quickly, a group of archers moved to the front of the army, positioning themselves, while the ranks themselves opened for them in a synchronized movement.
"Prepare!" shouted the leader commanding the long-range artillery.
"Fire!"
The volley of arrows came from more than ten thousand archers, advancing against the dead. Humans and animals were struck with precision from over three hundred meters away. A large portion collapsed immediately to the ground, while some still continued running, seeming not to care about their fallen companions.
"Prepare!"
"Fire, still at the same angle!"
New arrows advanced, striking the dead who were coming right behind. In just two attacks, more than fifteen thousand of them fell, one by one, from those more than 20,000 arrows.
"Mark the bow at sixty degrees!" shouted the leader.
The arrows were quickly positioned, while everyone awaited the next order.
"Fire!"
Once again, the heavy series of arrows surged forward with full force, striking the dead now at one hundred and fifty meters.
"First infantry line!" shouted Ducken.
The giants advanced, placing their enormous shields in front of the army, forming a living wall that prevented the enemy's advance. Meanwhile, the archers once again received the order to fire arrows at three hundred meters, as more dead continued to come.
The first to arrive struck hard against the giants' shields, which remained firm, preventing any advance. The giants responded with the same dynamics they had been using throughout the war, striking enemies through the open spaces between the shields, piercing them with Valyrian steel or dragonglass.
"They are launching lateral attacks!" The wargs responsible for the army's aerial vision began transmitting information to the command.
"Do not worry," Jon spoke to Ducken, before issuing orders and looking at the king with a questioning gaze.
"They are coming." That was all Jon said.
In the next moment, roars echoed through the sky. Shadows advanced, darkening the clear and clean day. On one side, Vezofēdrur emerged, darkening the skies with his size and color; on the other, the smaller dragons advanced together.
Everyone could see them diving and spewing flames over the dead who were gathering at the sides, trying to break through the flanks at the edges of the shields.
Green flames emerged on one side from Vezofēdrur, while red flames came from the other side from the rest. The smaller dragons were at least a dozen, firing without ceasing, while Eragon handled the other flank alone.
"Advance!" shouted Jon for them to resume the march.
The dead were becoming fewer and fewer, having already lost more than thirty thousand in that conflict and 30,000 before, leaving only 40,000 of them now.
Even so, they advanced without hesitation. With the flames clearing the way, the army continued marching.
The dragons circled the area, and Jon kept his attention fixed on the Night King. He was now accompanied by only two or three White Walkers, clearly at a disadvantage. It was possible to foresee that he would try to flee, but Jon would not allow it.
Even so, they managed to retreat another six hundred meters. Once again, the White Walkers unleashed another horde of dead, which was immediately answered with a rain of arrows. Wildfire would have been more effective, but the path needed to be cleared if they wanted to reach the White Walkers. More than ten thousand dead succumbed in this process, while the armored giants always remained at the front, serving as the army's shield.
The path to where the Night King was located was still covered by green flames from the first attack earlier. Jon waited until the army drew closer and then advanced alone, clearing the area by releasing a mist of ice, which completely extinguished the wildfire flames.
When the last flame went out, the dead appeared before them. There were no fewer than thirty thousand of them now, against the Arctican army in open field. Even so, they were nothing.
The Night King was there, with a strange look. He seemed to be trying to understand what was happening. He could not comprehend how he had lost so much in such a short time and how the enemies were getting closer and closer. But that no longer mattered.
"Prepare yourselves for the total attack. They are right in front of us, and there is nothing left between us and them!" Jon roared, as his men also prepared for battle.
"You know what to do. Ducken, you will remain in command of the army here. I will lead the attack group," Jon said again to his general.
He could have stayed behind, but the dead were no longer a great challenge. Besides, he did not want to miss the chance to reach the Night King there, before he tried to use some trick to escape. Jon still did not know the full extent of his powers, when not even his creators had known what they had created at the time to fight the First Men.
Ghost took a step forward. Jon was already mounted on him, holding the shield in one hand and Blackfyre in the other.
The dead made no movement after that. They waited for the attackers, knowing that the giants would not be able to keep their shields raised while advancing.
"Prepare yourselves all for the total attack. I will open a path through the middle, and you will devastate all the dead that try to reach us," Jon spoke to the group of one hundred warriors who would be with him.
Then, he turned to the rest of the army.
"And you… finish all of them. Show no mercy. When we kill the Night King, they will fall together. This is our final battle."
Jon then took several vials of potions and began to drink them. He needed to raise his senses even further. His eyes even dilated slightly, and he felt his muscles slightly atrophy. He had used that many times when he was just a child, to compensate for the lack of strength in the face of the challenges of that time. He had improved his potions many years ago, but since then he had never again resorted to that resource.
Until now.
This time, the situation was different. He needed to kill the Night King, and he was nothing like any other man Jon had ever fought.
The army quickly organized itself. The men positioned themselves for a direct assault. Seryna, Arya, Benjen, Lancelot, Thor, Tormund, Barristan Selmy, and all the Royal Guards, along with other trusted men and dwarves, gathered around Jon. Even some giants were with him, none other than Wallyk, Wuual, Kypyl, Huyys, Carruuyi, Tuuuxy, the giant families Jon had encountered south of the Wall together with Seryna.
They were only four hundred meters from the enemy.
Jon could not remain mounted on Ghost and dismounted the wolf.
"Since they are waiting for us to approach, how about giving them a welcome with our giants? Let's show that standing still is also a disadvantage against us," Jon said to Ducken, who nodded and began shouting orders to the leader of the giants.
Soon, the shields were replaced by bows and arrows taken from their backs. The giants buried the tips of their shields into the ground so they would not fall and prepared themselves. Each giant carried more than fifty monstrous arrows, brought from the side of the army by dwarves.
Five thousand giants began to prepare. They raised their bows and simply started firing. The dead, who had seemed safe until then, began to be blasted apart by arrows that pierced through their bodies. One by one, they fell to the ground roaring. Each arrow could strike more than one enemy.
The Night King saw this and seemed to fall into despair. He ordered the dead to advance, to no longer remain standing still. They were four hundred meters away, out of range of common archers, but the giants were still active, and he seemed to have forgotten that detail. Jon felt his desperation, even as his face remained neutral like ice. His eyes, however, shone with a different emotion.
The dead advanced, and more arrows continued to fall.
Jon left the giants maintaining the long-range pressure and raised his sword forward.
"With me!" he shouted.
Ghost roared at his side, and everyone prepared themselves. There were no more shields raised at the front. The giants would remain behind, continuing to fire arrows, while Ducken kept the men, dwarves, and giants organized.
The first wave of dead reached Jon. He slammed his shield against them, using force to push them back and slow the assault. Then, he began to move, cutting down any creature in front of him. His instincts were fully active. He moved even faster than his normal reaction speed, the same speed that had already earned him the title of greatest swordsman in the world. There, however, he seemed like a ferocious animal.
Not only Jon, but all the men accompanying him collided with the dead at the center of that chaos. The humans continued cutting with precision, the giants were devastating the enemies with their giant Valyrian steel swords, the dwarves were sending skeletons flying away with their hammers, while the army's infantry attacked from the flanks, preventing the pressure at the center from growing too much.
As they advanced, Jon continued pushing the dead back with his shield, stabbing and slashing everything that appeared in front of him. The dead fell one by one, and he had to climb over the inert bodies to keep moving forward. Some tried to throw themselves over others to reach him, but they were too weak. They were mostly just poorly supported skeletons without muscles, incapable of generating real strength.
The Night King continued watching from afar. He saw the groups advancing, while the dragons returned to the battlefield and began burning the enemy ranks from the sides.
He took up his spear. He thought about aiming at the larger dragon, but he knew he would not be able to easily pierce its heart. So he prepared to aim at the smaller ones, raising the weapon and adjusting his aim as the dragons grew alert.
Jon, at the center of all the chaos, divided his attention between killing the enemies in front of him, watching the battlefield in the sky, and constantly checking the Night King.
When the enemy quickly prepared and launched the ice spear toward the smaller dragons, Jon immediately entered their minds, controlling them to move away from the weapon's trajectory. The Night King frowned as he saw the spear fly uselessly away, while the dragons returned to burning the enemy army.
The Night King turned his gaze forward when an arrow advanced toward him. He felt it strike his chest, embedding itself with its dragonglass tip.
He was already within the enemy's reach. His forces were now no more than fifteen thousand. He was losing, and if that army reached him, he would be destroyed. There was no doubt about it.
When he was about to retreat, a wave of heat roared from the sky. Vezofēdrur and all the dragons descended, burning the hordes that were still between the Night King and the Arctican army, opening a path, advancing, and leaving only dead behind.
Jon used the dragons in an even more precise attack, clearing all the dead in front of him. While they burned everything, Jon also used his ability to completely extinguish the flames, fully clearing the path for him.
Then, the path was finally clear, at that exact moment.
"Go! Go! Delay them before they close it!" Jon shouted, charging forward with sword and shield in hand.
His men followed him immediately. The dead on the sides tried to stop them, but the group advanced too quickly. Jon was running at the front, while Ghost crushed enemies with his body or tore them apart with his fangs. Arya was right behind, cutting down any creature that came close, with Seryna at her side, hammering the dead and sending them flying farther than the dwarves could.
The Night King was just ahead. Jon ran to the end of the opening and passed through it before it closed, along with a group of men who were closest to him. The rest stayed behind, preventing the Walkers from closing the path and blocking Jon's passage.
The dead from the rear ranks tried to reach them, but Jon once again used his flames, creating a barrier that prevented them from advancing. He pointed his hand backward, sealing the passage, before turning his gaze forward again.
Ahead of him were Arya, Seryna, Lancelot, Benjen, Thor, Bari, Jill, Trinsmy, and even Barristan, who had advanced far enough not to be left behind. They were ten people against about one hundred dead in front of them.
At the top of the hill stood the Night King, staring at Jon as he picked up one of the spears from the White Walkers that had been destroyed earlier.
"Deal with the ones still scattered. I'm going to the Night King!" Jon said.
He knew that behind them, the army was still eliminating the last of the dead, who were now dispersing easily. The dragons avoided unleashing flames at that point, as they could hit the Arcticans.
"With me!" With those words, Jon charged forward.
It was at that moment that the Night King hurled the ice spear at him. Jon raised his shield instantly, but this was no ordinary attack, with no one but Jon able to perceive the spear's speed. The spear shattered the shield and continued forward into him, aiming for Jon's head.
"Jon!" Seryna shouted.
Jon merely raised his hand to signal that he was fine. He had turned his face at the last instant, avoiding the hit. He dropped the shield into the snow with the spear buried in it, even though it was made of thick Valyrian steel.
He advanced with only Blackfyre in hand.
"Do not let any dead interfere in my fight!" he shouted, running forward.
The Night King had no choice but to draw his ice sword from his back and prepare for combat. Those with Jon fought the scattered dead around them, preventing any interference.
There were three Walkers there among the common dead, and they began advancing toward Jon, but were stopped by Arya, Thor, and Lancelot, each blocking their path with their swords.
Jon advanced and reached the Night King, swinging his sword at him. The enemy responded with a direct strike. For an instant, time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, their swords centimeters from colliding.
Then time began to flow again.
The crash of the two blades echoed across the hill, drowning out even the sounds of the surrounding battle. Jon held his ground, and so did the Night King, both locked in a brutal contest of strength.
'He is strong. Very strong.' Jon had no choice but to admit it: that creature could match his strength, even after he had consumed several potions.
Finally, they broke apart. The Night King said nothing, only stared at him. The dead tried to approach the fight, but were destroyed by the group that had passed through with Jon.
Jon advanced again, and the Night King responded. The swords began to clash in a true dance of blades.
Beyond the crushing strength, there was also speed. The arms of both moved faster than any ordinary human. Not even the greatest warriors in the world could compare to the muscular reaction and motor control the two displayed there.
Jon felt his armor being struck several times, leaving scratches and even some cuts, but he remained intact. The Night King could not land a decisive blow.
On the other side, the Night King also suffered only superficial wounds.
Until, for the first time, Jon's sword truly struck him more deeply, cutting into his arm from the side.
A smile formed inside Jon's helmet.
The Night King seemed enraged by this. It was a mistake. As he lunged into an impetuous attack, Jon managed to stop him, forcing him to slip at an angle that gave Jon enough of an opening to deliver a small cut to the creature's leg. The Night King staggered back, stunned and surprised.
The battles around them had already ended. The White Walkers fell one by one, all of them having taken Jon's potions to enhance their physical capabilities and thus managed to overcome their enemies.
Everyone watched the confrontation between the King of Arctic and the Night King, awaiting any outcome as the fight unfolded atop the hill. And everyone saw the Night King begin to give ground until he took the blow from Jon's sword to the leg.
The main group of the army eliminated the last enemies from a distance.
Back on the hill, Jon removed his helmet and threw it into the snow, staring at the Night King.
"In the end, you will die here. Your attempt to conquer humanity ends today," Jon said.
He advanced quickly. The Night King now showed difficulty. The injured leg affected him, although it was still not enough to destroy him completely. Jon moved his sword in vertical, horizontal, and diagonal cuts in rapid succession, while the Night King raised his sword to defend himself, being driven backward, unable to keep up with that human at that moment.
Jon could see fear in the creature's eyes as he forced it to retreat.
He cut the side of the Night King's neck, not a fatal blow, but enough to make him pull away from Jon once more.
The Arctican king advanced, ready to deliver the final strike.
In a desperate attempt, the Night King threw his sword at Jon, trying to pierce him. Jon dodged at the last second, nearly being hit. When he looked ahead, he saw the Night King begin to glow. He was about to use his magic again.
An explosion of snow erupted, creating a massive blizzard that swallowed not only the hill, but the entire surrounding area, making everyone cry out in surprise, even the army was engulfed.
But at the same time, a roar came from the sky, with Eragon advancing and shining intensely. Jon had already expected it. He activated his own magic together with the dragon as it entered the mist of the sky. It was not for nothing that Jon had made Eragon rest within the walls; he needed energy to once again counter the Night King's magic, capable of creating a storm like at the beginning of the war.
The glow spread across the entire region once more, immediately nullifying the enemy's power. The Night King could only stare, stunned, as everything returned to normal, all the snow he had created vanished.
Unable to flee, he barely had time to react.
Jon was already upon him as soon as the mist disappeared.
Blackfyre surged forward, piercing the Night King's chest and passing through the other side.
The sound of glass shattering echoed. The Night King looked, in disbelief, at his own chest and then at Jon. He had no time to react. His body began to be destroyed.
It was over.
The body began to crack and glow. In the next instant, it exploded into thousands of fragments, like glass shattering and falling onto the snow, as if it had never been anything at all.
At the same time, the entire army of the dead reacted. Even the White Walkers who still remained in some points of the battlefield ended up shattering into ice.
The dead followed soon after, collapsing one by one.
The last enemies fell, inert, onto the snow.
Jon let out a deep breath as he saw the last shards of the Night King scattered before him. He even ignored the silence everyone had fallen into at that very moment as they watched their enemy fall.
The war was over.
Everyone near the hill fixed their gaze on Jon. Soon, the victorious shouts of the Arctican army echoed throughout the region. The losses had been minimal, almost ridiculous when compared to what they had faced. Even adding the entire war together, they had not lost more than eleven thousand men, while they had destroyed more than fifty times that number on the side of the dead.
Jon barely noticed the impact when Eragon landed near him, making the ground tremble. His eyes remained fixed on the glass fragments scattered across the snow.
The war was over.
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