Chapter 6: Dunlending Raid (Part 2 of 2)
The dawn air was rent by the primal, ragged war cries of the Dunlendings, a sound like metal tearing canvas that clawed at John Stark's ears, the cold biting at his exposed skin as he stood at the south barricade. His makeshift shield trembled in his grip, the rough wood splintering under his fingers, the system's hum a steady drone beneath the roar of the assault, a wave of painted fury crashing against the log palisade with axes and crude swords. Blood slicked the grass, screams rising like a chorus of despair, the stench of iron and sweat filling his lungs.
"This is it. Time to earn that Soul Wear," he thought, his heart pounding, the ache in his arms a dull reminder of his limits as he braced for impact.
The shield line buckled, a huge, snarling Dunlending breaking through, his wild eyes fixed on a frozen villager, the man's face pale with terror. John lunged without thinking, shoving the villager aside with a grunt, the axe descending with brutal force, cracking his skull and plunging him into silent darkness, the pain a fleeting starburst.
[SYSTEM: Death x1: +3 Agility. Soul Wear: 25%. Dunlending piñata? That's you.]
He respawned twenty feet back, the cold chill of Soul Wear spiking through him like ice in his veins, his mind feeling thinner, emotions dimmer, a hollow ache in his chest. He pushed up, hiding his return with an exhausted slump, rubbing his eyes to mask the disorientation, the grass damp under his knees as he slipped back into the fray, his legs shaky.
Fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with Cenric, a gruff guard whose breath rasped with effort, their swords blurred in desperation, John faced the Dunlending commander—a giant with a horned helm, his armor clanking with each step. The commander smashed his shield aside, the wood shattering in his hands, driving a spear through his abdomen, the pain a white-hot explosion before darkness claimed him, the taste of blood on his tongue.
[SYSTEM: Death x2: +2 Strength. Soul Wear: 30%. Try to keep that vitality above zero, genius.]
He respawned under a thatch overhang, the exhaustion a perfect cover as he slid down, groaning, the straw pricking his back, rejoining the fight with increased Agility and Strength, his movements faster but his body heavier. The villagers saw only a fierce outsider, his resilience a myth in the making, the clang of steel a constant rhythm in his ears.
Éowyn fought with lethal grace, her shield gleaming, pressed by two axe-wielding raiders, the air thick with their grunts. She blocked one blow, the impact jarring her arm, but the other's axe arced toward her neck, a gleaming, terrifying trajectory she couldn't evade, her breath catching. John slammed into her, knocking her aside with a desperate shove, the axe biting empty air where her head had been, the force sending him sprawling. He collapsed, the war axe buried deep in his shoulder, pain flashing across his face—a brief, profound agony—before his eyes went vacant, the world fading to black.
"He took the blow for me," Éowyn thought, her heart hammering, the blood roaring in her ears as he vanished into the shadows, the Dunlending staring in confusion, his painted face twisted.
Seconds later, John returned, his chest heaving, shoulder hunched to hide the wound, the fabric of his tunic torn and damp, finishing the raider with a lunge, the blade sinking with a wet thud. Éowyn's gratitude overwhelmed her fear, her voice a rough whisper as she gripped his uninjured arm, her fingers trembling.
"You fool. You took a mortal wound. You… you are the strangest man I have ever known. Thank you."
He grinned strainedly, leaning his forehead against hers, the contact warm against his clammy skin, masking the pain with wit, his breath ragged.
"Dying's my new workout plan," he muttered, pushing away to fight on, the ache in his shoulder a constant throb.
[SYSTEM: Death: +2 Stamina. Rallying Call: Lv. 1. Cute. Now finish the mission.]
John climbed a makeshift platform, his voice hoarse, the strain tearing at his throat, using his surging Rallying Call skill to push the remaining defenders, firelight casting his face in a mask of shadow and light, the heat blistering his cheeks.
"They are broken! Push them! They took our strength, but they will never take our home!" he roared, the raw power in his voice driven by the system's boost, concealed as sheer leadership and desperation, his hands clenching into fists.
[SYSTEM: Rallying Call: Lv. 2. Not bad, hero. Your charisma is finally doing something useful.]
"Motivational speaker? I'd rather fight," he muttered, the exhaustion deepening, the Soul Wear a cold weight in his chest, the energy of the villagers lifting him, their cheers a distant hum.
The Dunlendings broke, scattering across the plains, throwing down weapons with clatters of metal, their retreat a blur of ochre and black. John stood shaking, exhaustion and pain etched into his features, the taste of victory bitter with the cost, his legs trembling under him.
Éowyn approached, dirt and blood streaking her face, her eyes shining with relief and respect, the scent of smoke clinging to her hair.
"They will not return soon, Stark," she said, gazing at the retreating figures, her voice steady but soft.
The village settled into grim triage, the cries of the wounded a somber undertone, John leaning against the barricade, massaging his weary shoulders, the wood rough against his back. Éowyn knelt beside him, her presence a quiet comfort.
"You have earned a rest, John Stark. But we must ride soon. My people are in danger. We must go to Edoras. My uncle, the King, must know what is happening in his lands."
"Edoras. The main quest just updated," he thought, steeling himself for the journey ahead, the ache in his body a testament to his survival, his fingers tracing the sword hilt absently.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ Lord Of The Rings Pleasse Kill Me System ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ Lord Of The Rings Pleasse Kill Me System ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!