The black torrent slowly flowed across the endless white plains.
The air was thick with the pungent, authentic smell of animal dung.
Lynn rode on Winter's broad dragon back.
Arya hugged his waist tightly, her initial excitement having settled into quietness.
She looked down at the orderly formations of wildlings, neat as a chessboard, and the army composed of the legendary Giants and Mammoths, stretching to the horizon.
Suddenly, a scout riding a pony galloped over, his face flushed with excitement.
"Two riders are approaching us from The North!"
Tormund rode a tall warhorse.
The warhorse looked somewhat comical beneath his burly frame.
He spat into the snow.
"Spies? I'll go break their legs!"
Ygritte, always guarding Lynn's side, had already notched an arrow.
Lynn narrowed his eyes.
The two figures were still just distant black dots, but their riding posture was familiar.
"Wait, they're friends."
As they approached, Arya let out a gasp.
"Jon! It's Jon!"
The arrivals were indeed Jon Snow.
His handsome face was chapped by the cold wind, and his black curly hair was covered in snowflakes.
Beside him was another man with the same House Stark features, taller and more capable.
Benjen Stark.
The first ranger of the Nights Watch.
They reined in their horses before the massive dragon; the horses beneath them whinnied nervously.
Benjen's eyes were wide as he gazed in shock at the sheer scale of this army.
He had already seen Winter, but his gaze lingered for a long time on the Frost Giant, which resembled a moving iceberg.
Jon dismounted, his movements somewhat stiff from the cold and exhaustion.
"Lynn, Arya."
"Jon!"
Arya climbed down from the dragon's back, ignoring the knee-deep snow, and was about to rush into her brother's embrace.
But considering she was now Lynn's wife, she abruptly stopped herself.
"Why are you here?"
Lynn spoke.
"Has the Wall fallen?"
"Not yet,"
Jon's voice was tired,
"but it's cracking."
"Two days ago, a horn sounded from the south, and Lord Mormont said the Wall's magic was failing."
Jon looked directly into Lynn's eyes.
"I'm here to fight."
Benjen also dismounted.
"Me too."
"Starks must defend The North. I am a Stark first."
Jon untied a heavy bundle from his saddle.
"Lord Commander Mormont... Jeor... he said this was more important."
"He said, helping you is helping the Nights Watch."
He carefully handed two items to Lynn.
The first was a strange branch.
It was as thick as a grown man's arm, unnaturally white, yet strangely warm and smooth to the touch.
Red sap, like blood, slowly oozed from the broken end.
Lynn could feel an ancient yet vibrant power surging within it.
The second item was a scroll made of Profound Ice material.
It was a piece of translucent ice, thin as parchment but hard as diamond, and the cold air it emitted even penetrated Lynn's moleskin gloves.
On the surface of the scroll, lines of seemingly squirming text were carved using twisted Runes.
At the very top, the name "Lynn" was clearly visible.
"It was sent by the dead,"
Jon explained in a low voice.
"A White Walker and several Wights."
"They just... stood there, handed over the items, and left."
The surrounding wildlings, including Tormund and Ygritte, instinctively took a step back upon hearing the word "dead."
Only Lynn remained unfazed.
He recognized the power within the branch.
Clearly, this was a "Blessed Item."
It was the same as the item he had asked Jon to find.
But this one... felt completely different.
Purer and stronger.
This was a direct gift.
"The Night King is truly a generous... person."
Lynn muttered to himself.
He looked at the branch in his hand; now was not the time for hesitation. He needed all the power he could get.
Lynn first checked it for any tricks, and finding none, he gripped the branch with both hands and, without the slightest hesitation, bit into it.
The taste was indescribable.
Sweet, full of the scent of the earth, yet carrying an extreme coldness.
The wood was not hard; it melted in his mouth like snow, transforming into a tremendous surge of energy that washed over Lynn's entire body.
A sharp pain spread through him.
Every inch of muscle, every bone, every cell in his body was being reshaped by this primal energy.
It was a rebirth that was both agonizingly painful and exhilaratingly refreshing.
Immediately after.
[Consumed the Sacred Tree of the Great Other (Incomplete)]
[All Attributes +10]
[Consuming the complete Sacred Tree grants partial Authority of god of cold]
"Something from god of cold, then?"
Lynn clenched his fist.
Lynn didn't care whose item it was; anything that boosted his Strength was a good thing.
The entire world became clearer than ever in Lynn's perception.
The sound of the wind was no longer noise, but a language he could almost understand.
He could feel his body becoming stronger and faster.
His thoughts became pure and rapid.
The power surging beneath his skin was intoxicating.
[Name: Lynn]
[Strength: 22 (2%)]
[Agility: 21 (61%)]
[Constitution: 20 (0%)]
[Spirit: 36 (1%)]
Lynn felt he could now effortlessly take down three Jaimes, or even more.
Moreover, the combat power gained from improving attributes after breaking the limit was far more than simple addition!
No human could withstand his full-power strike!
Furthermore, Spirit was already Lynn's strong suit, and now it had forcibly broken through to 36 points!
He felt that the Three-Eyed Raven would likely be completely crushed by him!
It seemed when he had time, he could use the Greensight to see what the Three-Eyed Raven was currently doing.
Next, Lynn turned his attention to the ice crystal scroll.
He carefully unrolled it; the Runes on it emitted a faint blue glow.
It was an ancient language, neither the Common Tongue nor valyrian, but for some reason, he could understand it.
The message was brief, but it sent a chill through him and confirmed all his suspicions.
"The Crow is searching for a new body."
"Do not give it to him. Kill that bird, and the Long Night will naturally end."
The Three-Eyed Raven.
The Night King was not just an ally with shared interests; he was actively guiding Lynn and warning him.
The true enemy was the puppet master hiding in the cave north of the Wall, who thought he could manipulate everything.
The one who wanted to possess a new body, perhaps a child of House Stark or another family, to perpetuate his endless cycle.
"What did it say?"
Jon's curiosity overcame his fear.
Lynn put the scroll away.
"It says we have a common enemy."
"We'll discuss this later."
"The Night King won't move against us for now."
However, Lynn didn't fully trust the Night King's words.
The Night King wanted to kill the Three-Eyed Raven, but Lynn didn't want the Three-Eyed Raven to die just yet.
Checks and balances were the true path.
Especially at this critical juncture... Soon, four days flashed by.
Lynn's army gathered outside Winterfell.
Robb Stark stood on a temporarily constructed wooden platform, waiting for his "allies" alongside Great Jon Umber, Rickard Karstark, and other Northern Lords.
He had anticipated a few thousand wildlings, perhaps some Giants.
He was prepared to welcome a crudely equipped, rough, and disorganized wildling force.
But he was not prepared for this.
First came the sound.
A rumble that made the earth tremble, gradually escalating into a thunderous roar.
Then, they saw the vanguard.
The wildling infantry were not wearing ragged furs, but standardized full plate armor.
The long spears in their hands formed a daunting forest of steel.
"In the name of the Old Gods and the New Gods..."
Rickard Karstark murmured, his hand instinctively gripping his sword hilt.
Then came the Giants.
Not one or two, but hundreds.
Some wore heavy armor and wielded War Hammers two men high.
There were Giant archers holding massive bows made from entire tree trunks.
Great Jon Umber's booming laughter caught in his throat, his jaw nearly hitting the ground.
After that, came the Mammoths.
Fifty Mammoths, clad in specialized heavy armor, carrying Giant Knights wielding Chain Hammers on their backs.
They were living siege engines, the Strength of nature encased in armor.
Finally... "It" appeared.
The Frost Giant.
Fifteen meters tall, a giant constructed of ice.
Even walking at the rear of the army, it was instantly noticeable—a walking apocalypse.
Every tremor of the earth came from its heavy footsteps.
Every Northern Lord, every battle-hardened soldier, felt a fear that originated deep in their soul.
This was no earthly creation; this was the incarnation of the God of Winter walking among men.
"Seven Hells,"
Wyman Manderly whispered.
His massive chin was trembling non-stop.
"W-what in the hells is that thing?"
But for those with sharp eyes, the real terror was the small squad of people following the Frost Giant.
Jaime had already noticed something was wrong with those "people."
Ten figures, draped in black cloaks and wearing hoods, moved with a perfect yet unnatural synchronization.
They exuded absolute stillness.
They were Lynn's personal guards, the first members of his "Winter Ghost Legion."
They were White Walkers, their eyes burning with blue flame, their dead flesh driven by Lynn's power.
"What exactly are they? Lynn's trump card?"
Jaime muttered to himself, completely baffled.
Robb looked at Lynn, who was casually jumping down from the dragon's back.
The scales of power weren't just tilted anymore.
The whole damn chessboard was about to be flipped!
With troops like this, winning? It was too easy; it would be hard to deliberately lose!
He finally understood why Lynn was so confident.
Great Jon Umber was the first to recover.
He let out a roar—not of fear, but of pure excitement.
"Ha! Hahahaha! Now this is a goddamn army!"
He slapped his thigh and roared.
"Let's trample the Freys into a puddle of mud!"
The other lords also snapped out of their shock, erupting in laughter mixed with cheers and nervousness.
The fear remained, but it was quickly replaced by another intoxicating emotion.
At least, this unstoppable force was on their side... The combined army of the wildlings and The North, fully organized, numbered fifty thousand strong.
This was the largest force assembled in The North in a thousand years.
They marched south, leaving Winterfell far behind them.
The march was swift until they reached the northern edge of The Neck and halted completely.
Here, the world changed.
The crisp white snow was replaced by a vast, stinking expanse of swamp.
The air became humid, filled with the sickening smell of decay and stagnation.
Moss-covered, twisted trees rose from the murky pools, their branches like skeletal fingers.
The ground was a trap of mud and quicksand, covered by a thin layer of green duckweed.
The massive army hesitated.
The problem was obvious.
How do you get fifty thousand men, tens of thousands of horses, and a force composed of Giants and Mammoths across this area?
It definitely couldn't be done.
The Kingsroad was a narrow, sunken causeway, but it was extremely vulnerable to ambush and could be flooded at any time.
It was still better than this place.
Leaving the main road and choosing the swamp was essentially suicide.
But choosing the Kingsroad would expose them; they needed to use this route for a surprise attack.
Soldiers would eventually be swallowed by the swamp, and the great beasts would sink into the mire.
The entire army would be delayed here for months, then slowly whittled away.
Neither option worked!
"It's impossible to cross this, isn't it?"
Robb said, looking at the gloomy swamp before them.
Doubt appeared on his face for the first time.
"We'll lose half our men here before we even see the banners of House Frey."
Great Jon Umber, usually cheerful and optimistic, was silent for once.
He frowned deeply.
He couldn't think of any way to forge a path through here either.
All eyes turned to Lynn.
Because Lynn had guaranteed them.
He had a way to lead everyone across the swamp.
Lynn stood at the edge of the swamp, foul mist swirling around his boots.
The Frost Giant stood silently behind him, its cold aura contrasting sharply with the humid decay of The Neck.
The lords were anxious, and the soldiers were restless.
The army's high morale seemed to have dropped considerably.
There was no worry on Lynn's face.
He simply gazed calmly at the vast swamp that had swallowed countless armies.
Then, he turned around and looked at the worried faces of Robb, Jon, and the other lords.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Why is everyone panicking?"
"A swamp?"
Lynn asked, his voice tinged with amusement.
"You call this a problem?"
Following this, Lynn raised one hand, his palm facing the murky water before him.
The air temperature around him instantly plummeted.
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