"Light."
The red-robed monk uttered a single, simple word.
The moment that word was spoken, the air in the forest seemed to fall silent.
The wolf cavalry and the members of the Bannerless Brotherhood all widened their eyes. They could tell that something was wrong with the red-robed monk's mental state—but they never expected him to dare claim that he himself was Light.
What kind of existence was Light?
In this world, only the King of Light from another continent would use such an exalted title.
If he wasn't mad, then this meant that the red-robed monk standing before them was actually the legendary King of Light!
Could this be the fabled descent of a god?!
They desperately wanted to doubt the red-robed monk's words, to believe that he was merely insane.
But the overwhelming pressure he had just released—an aura that compelled people to prostrate themselves, to kneel and kiss the dirt beneath his feet—made everyone believe that he truly was the King of Light!
Little Jon and the centurions of the North were visibly flustered. The North did not worship the King of Light, but the being before them was still a genuine god!
Just like the Old Gods they believed in, or the Seven worshipped in other regions—each was a supreme, mysterious existence!
And yet, just now, they had been pointing fingers at a god's divine descent ritual?
For the first time, Little Jon felt completely at a loss. In the past, everything had always seemed simple—he only needed to follow His Majesty Robb's commands.
But now, standing before them was the King of Light who had descended into the mortal world!
Little Jon exchanged glances with several Northern centurions. From each other's eyes, they read the same resolve: if the King of Light were to hold this against them, then even if it meant dying, they would protect His Majesty at all costs.
They didn't understand the King of Light's abilities, nor did they know what he could do while inhabiting the red-robed monk's body.
But they knew one thing—this was a god.
And they all understood clearly that one should never trust a god's mercy, nor question a god's might.
Robb looked down at the red-robed monk. The horse beneath him had already gone limp, as if it would kneel at any second.
The direwolf Grey Wind bared his fangs, standing between the two. A ferocious glint shone in his eyes, his body taut—at a single order from Robb, he would pounce without hesitation.
Robb narrowed his eyes. "Oh? So this is a divine descent. Then you came to find me?"
The red-robed monk nodded. "Light guided me to see you."
"See me? And then?"
"But in the flames, there was no trace of you."
Robb smiled faintly. "Do you enjoy speaking in riddles that much?"
Seeing the red-robed monk fall silent, Robb's hand moved to the hilt of his longsword, his gaze sharpening. "I really hate people who don't know how to speak properly."
A black-and-red aura quietly appeared around Robb's wrist, intertwining and darting rapidly.
The scent of death—of destiny—flowed out from that aura, surging straight toward the red-robed monk's body.
For the first time, an expression appeared on the face of the self-proclaimed King of Light. He stared at Robb with confusion and wariness.
"This… what is this?"
Robb smiled. "If you don't start talking to me properly, I'll let you find out exactly what this thing is."
Confusion, anger, and fear alternated across the red-robed monk's face. It seemed he had never encountered such a situation before.
As an orthodox god, the King of Light's divine perception had long reached its peak.
And yet he found it inconceivable—this black-and-red aura on the human's wrist was actually emitting a danger that made his very origin tremble!
What in the world was that thing?
Seeing the other party sink into silence without speaking, merely standing in front of him, Robb grew displeased.
"You're blocking my way."
As soon as those words fell, the black-and-red aura around Robb suddenly surged, an oppressive terror radiating from his entire body.
The wolf cavalry were very close to Robb, and in that instant, they truly felt the breath of death!
A horrifying sensation swept over them, as if they had just experienced death itself!
On the body of the King of Light, who had descended into the red-robed monk, flames suddenly ignited. The fire was faint, yet everyone who saw it could sense its overwhelming strength.
The flames contained explosive power, concealing vibrant life.
With just a single glance, no one would doubt it—this fire would never be extinguished.
Yet when the black aura on Robb spread to the front of the red-robed monk, the flames began to weaken.
A restless wind blew softly, and the fire on the red-robed monk's body was completely extinguished, leaving not the slightest trace behind.
As though the life force of that flame had encountered death itself.
The red-robed monk's body couldn't endure it. He staggered back a step.
Robb did not press the advantage, withdrawing his aura.
Looking at the red-robed monk, Robb spoke lightly, "You should remember this now. Don't block my path again. And when you talk to me, speak properly."
There was one sentence Robb did not say aloud:
Otherwise, you'll see your destined death within the flames.
The red-robed monk lowered his head and remained silent for a moment.
Little Jon and the Northerners stared at each other, utterly unable to believe what they were seeing!
A being who called himself a god had been forced to retreat before His Majesty!
The god they had thought to be lofty and untouchable now seemed, in His Majesty's eyes, to be nothing special at all!
What kind of power did His Majesty truly wield?
Long live His Majesty!
Long live the King in the North!
Everyone was celebrating wildly in their hearts, yet no one made a sound.
This was a contest between His Majesty and a god. They had no need to draw attention to themselves.
Still, every single person was swept up in fervor.
Especially the wolf cavalry who were born in Tyrosh.
They watched as the faith they had believed in since childhood appeared—only to be frightened away by the lord they now served. Under the influence of the fanaticism of converts, they became even more loyal than the Northern wolf cavalry!
At this moment, they were willing to offer anything to Robb.
Seeing impatience about to surface on Robb's face again, the red-robed monk finally spoke, his tone a little hurried.
"Dragonflame has revived across the continent, granting me the ability to walk the earth."
"But the cold of the North is also about to sweep forth. The tide of winter cannot be stopped."
"I followed the guidance of Light to meet you. The flames will guide the path ahead."
Robb felt a bit speechless. You could never expect a god-botherer to speak plainly. If he hadn't sensed the other party's willingness to cooperate, he would have already slashed over with a sword qi containing destined death.
Riddle-speaking gods should all die.
Before Robb could continue pressing for answers, the red-robed monk Soros suddenly shuddered. That mysterious, exalted aura gradually faded away.
Everything in the forest seemed to come back to life. The wind and birdsong—no one knew when they had vanished, nor when they returned.
The red-robed monk Soros's eyes slowly regained clarity, and he looked like someone who had just awakened from a dream.
The King of Light had left.
The red-robed monk Soros had no memory of what had just occurred. "Th-this… what just happened?"
Robb sheathed his sword and said calmly, "Nothing much. Looks like your god is afraid of me."
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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"The Game of Thrones Upgrade System"
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"Game of Thrones: Godzilla vs. Dragons"
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" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
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(End Chapter)