A sudden surge of strength ran through his body. He could feel it in his muscles. He felt lighter, his grip strength stronger, his fatigue lost.
Thirty percent? How big is that?
"What're you gawking at! Kill them! Kill the royalist bastards!" Wylis shouted and snapped the men around him back to reality. He also used that pause to turn his horse. He went back to where he dropped his blade. Without getting off the horse, he leaned sideways and grabbed the hilt.
Woosh!
Holy shit!
He ripped the sword out with ease. It wasn't the sword that had become dislodged. It was his pure, raw strength that did the magic.
Feels… invincible.
"Argh!"
Right then, he heard a voice he recognized. He turned, and sure enough, an extremely fat man had been thrown off his horse and surrounded by royalist men.
Time to give this a try.
He went back to cutting grass. It had never been easier than now.
Woosh!
"Aaaargh!"
He didn't leave men injured anymore. He left them dead. Even if his blade didn't take their heads, he still shattered them. His blade's edge started chipping because of his explosive strength.
Left, right, he swung it like a bat.
As he went, he left a trail of dead bodies.
"Haaaaa!" Wylis arrived at the downed lord at that point. He jumped down from his horse and engaged the enemies directly. He was still too big and overpowering.
He swung fast, heavy, hilt gripped in both his hands. The men around him tried to stab him through the gaps in his armor.
"Ugh! I-I can't move!"
But their spears never reached him. Nobody could see what was going on under the water.
Splash!
And the water turned bloody with Wylis' strikes. He killed them, multiple men in a single strike at times. Stabbed, and a few he kicked. He was no superhuman, but his strength was most certainly at the peak for a man his size.
"Seven hells! I owe you, Wylis."
Wylis gave the fat lord a hand. "Lord Manderly, might I suggest two pies instead of three?"
"You ask for too much, good Ser. But in your honor, let it be two and three-quarters."
Wylis chuckled and helped the man grab his sword as well. It was interesting that Wyman even came to the battle despite his rather rotund form. He could barely ride a horse due to his size.
"Ser Wylis, ride quickly to Robert," Wyman said, his face drawn with concern. "They've pulled him to the rear. A fever burns in him, and Lord Stark had to drag him with a dozen men. He was mindlessly throwing his hammer around, even at allies."
Fever? Wylis frowned. It wasn't his doing. The injuries Robert had suffered in the Battle of the Bells were already healed for the most part. It was falling from the horse that had injured him recently.
If Robert and Eddard are at the rear, then…
He surveyed the battlefield and noticed the royalist knights running around on their horses and killing the rebel men. Without Robert and Eddard, two of the major commanders were gone.
"No, if I go to Robert, the battle will be lost," Wylis replied, and returned to his horse.
"Ser Wylis, Lord Hoster, and Lord Arryn are pressing for a minor retreat to regroup. Without Robert, we can't win this battle."
Like hell I can let that happen! Fuck!
"Lord Wyman, go to the rear and send Lord Stark back. Fortune leans toward us. One of their commanders has fallen, and I'll see another soon follow. It is now or never. The fight must continue. If Robert can't stand, then we'll win him the damn throne." Wylis declared and handed the lead of his horse. "Take my horse. I'll fight on foot."
Lord Wyman frowned. "How will yo—"
"Go, my Lord!" Wylis firmly voiced and turned to leave. He looked towards the distant figure of Rhaegar Targaryen on his steed. The man was guarded from all sides. "Send Lord Stark as fast as you can."
With that, Wylis disappeared into the chaos. Well, more like the cause of the chaos, as he could never disappear.
Splash! Splash!
His feet touched the ground.
No more holding back!
He was no god of war. He couldn't go against forty thousand men. But he could cause mass injuries, enough to tip the tide in his favor.
Clank!
Clash!
Wylis engaged with the men right away. They tried to surround him on many occasions, but each ended with them getting stuck in the dirt and dying by his blade. Either heads cleaved or skulls bashed.
"Kill the giant!"
Wylis turned to look at the one giving that command. It was Prince Lewyn Martell, another Kingsguard. The man was leading ten thousand Dornish men. And in one look, it was clear, they were trying to circle him.
Fuck! I gotta break their momentum.
Clank!
"Hold the line! Watch my back!" Wylis shouted, spotting Lord Roose Bolton among the men. "My lord, they've nearly surrounded us. Gather the men, we'll strike before we're caged!"
Almost the same age as Wylis, Roose Bolton did as Wylis asked and gathered his men behind Wylis.
Using them, Wylis pressed forward towards Prince Lewyn. The Dornish army had too many spears, so Wylis was aware of the dangers, and he chose not to play with them.
Bam!
Splash!
He smashed his foot on the water, but acted like it was nothing. In the distance ahead, a sudden sinkhole formed on the shallow ford. It was deep enough to trap two dozen men inside it. Then it quickly filled with water, and they started drowning with all their heavy armor.
"Go around!" Prince Lewyn's command was relentless.
Wylis only had to worry about his front, however, as Lord Roose and his men handled his rear.
Clank!
"Argh! My foot!"
Whenever more than three men attacked him, he created sharp spikes under the water and pierced their feet deep. The soles weren't made of metals, and that was his respite. Blood soaked the entire area surrounding Wylis.
Thud!
Whenever he stepped forward, the men fell, cut, dismembered, disfigured.
"Hold them back! We have the numbers!"
Wylis ignored the man, but it was true. The enemy did have the numbers. He was their target, and they were closing in from each side. At least two hundred men were entirely focused on surrounding him, Lord Roose and his men.
This is tiring.
He felt the effect of Earthbending on his body. It used a lot of his energy. But he was nowhere near done.
"Aim for Prince Lewyn!" Wylis changed direction and headed towards the commander. He went faster than the men behind him.
"Aaaaargh! My leg!"
"Ugh!"
"Seven hells!"
The men cried in pain whenever they approached Wylis, then died in pain. He truly looked like a giant on that battlefield, his steel armor blood-soaked, but his own body unscathed. He left a trail of dead bodies in his wake.
He'd stopped counting long before.
Slash!
Thud!
Stab!
He dodged back, blocked, and countered a spear.
Clank!
He turned and struck back. His large frame gave him plenty of strength, but it also required a lot of energy. He panted, grunted, and put his full strength in each strike.
"Haaaaaa!" He roared at the Dornish soldiers and started running all of a sudden.
Splash!
Another sinkhole appeared, and finally, the wall of men protecting Prince Lewyn atop his horse vanished, drowned below.
"Haaaaaaa!"
Wylis ran till the edge of that sinkhole and leaped into the air like a beast. Using every ounce of strength in his legs, he jumped over the sinkhole, his massive, blood-tainted blade gripped above his head.
Prince Lewyn reacted quickly and pointed his sword to stab at Wylis.
"Neeeeight!"
But all of a sudden, Prince Lewyn's horse reacted and raised its front legs high.
Thud!
Prince Lewyn fell backwards into the shallow water.
Splash!
"Not so fast!" Wylis landed and slammed his foot on Prince Lewyn's chest, and without wasting a second, thrust his sword in the gap between the helmet and the chestplate. It was scummy to use earthbending like that. But he felt no pity, for he was fighting against forces that once used dragons in battlefields.
"Grugh… ghk…~" Prince Lewyn tried to wave his sword with one hand, to strike Wylis.
But Wylis was fast, driving his blade into the man's throat. The Kingsguard gurgled blood from his mouth; it flowed beyond the visor of his helmet and seeped red into the water.
Fuck this… I gotta catch my breath.
He no longer rushed to attack. He stood there, one foot on Prince Lewyn's chest, the sword still standing, tip stabbed through the throat. He used the rain-guard for support and just took deep, long breaths.
He gulped, the helmet making it really hard to breathe.
Behind him was the sinkhole, so he was rather relaxed. But that also meant that the Boltons were away. He was there alone. And sure enough, Dornishmen began appearing, making a semi-circle, surrounding him.
This wasn't the goddamn plan.
The battle had gone beyond just earning name and fame. Killing Rhaegar was now a necessity. Not just for the Quest, but to ensure he'd remain on the winning side. To not become the Mad King's sacrifice.
"Alright…" He tiredly muttered and stood up straight again. "I'll kill you all next—Then I'll go for your silver-haired fucker."
Wylis pulled the sword out of Prince Lewyn's throat and gripped it with both hands.
"Come on then! What're you waiting for?"
He did plan on using Earthbending, but just for making spikes now. Sinkholes that big ate too much of his energy.
Ting!
Ugh, what now?
[Tyrant's Bastard Detected!]
[Daughter(Bastard) - Ashara Dayne
Life Points Available - 10]
[Strength - 0/10
Dexterity - 1/10
Intelligence - 1/10
Charisma - 6/10
Vitality - 2/10]
As if someone poured life into Wylis, his eyes widened. His heart shook, exhilaration surging through him.
Daughter? A girl? I-I finally have a daughter?!
And looking at the absurdly high Charisma value, he gulped.
How pretty is my little girl? Holy shit, fuckers around the realm will chase her!
"No!"
He roared for no reason. The Dornishmen before him confusedly stepped back at the sudden outburst.
"NEVER!"
No longer the might of a knight. The Dornishmen faced the wrath of an overly protective father.
"Haaaaa!"
Not waiting for the Dornishmen to come at him, Wylis rushed up to them.
"My leg!"
The same cries echoed.
Slash!
Thud!
Heads rolled. A few bodies fell into a puddle of blood.
But beyond mere jokes, Wylis thanked Ashara and his little daughter. Hearing that ping gave him the energy and the desire to push ahead. He wanted to see his daughter. He wanted to see her grow. And he really didn't want a Rhaegar Targaryen in that future.
"Wraaaaaa!"
He fought like a mad beast from that point on. He slashed, he stabbed, made them trip, made them jump with wounded feet. Those who got too close received his kicks.
But it was still tiring.
Where's the fucking Lord of Winterfell?
Splash!
Splash!
Splash!
Unexpectedly, the noise of water splashing increased. He took a quick glance and noticed at least three dozen men on horses approaching. Leading them was Eddard.
"Barely on time!"
Wylis aimed at the running Dornishmen. They were no match for that many northern men on horses. Of course, Wylis didn't make it easy for them. He made them walk a path made of dirt spikes. They bled, they fell, they got stabbed by northern men, and died.
"Ser Wylis." Eddard arrived near Wylis, and with his horse was a lead tied to Caliburn. "I've brought your horse."
Wylis just nodded, still recovering his breath.
"We can still win this," Eddard said, eyeing the dead body of Prince Lewyn. "This battle must mean something."
Wylis continued to nod and climbed onto his precious horse. He patted and caressed him first, then took out a pouch of water. Finally, after he felt ready to move, he looked at Eddard.
"No, Lord Stark. This rebellion must reach its conclusion," he said and looked around. "You should go after Ser Barristan."
Eddard understood his intention. "Robert wanted to finish him."
"He'd better save himself from finishing first."
"Aye, the fever's heavy."
Wylis grabbed his sword then and looked towards a certain direction.
"Lord Stark, get me to Rhaegar, and I swear on my life I'll get Robert his crown."
"You've ended two of their commanders. You defied the retreat. Why?" Eddard stared expressionlessly at Wylis. "What's in it for you?"
To Wylis, the answer was clear as day. He didn't joke, he didn't smile. His eyes were coldly focused on the black armored man in the distance.
"Everything, Lord Stark."
______________________
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