Stephen Baratheon POV
There often comes a time in our lives, when we are presented with a choice. And depending on what choice we make at the moment, our lives can be changed irrevocably.
And as the boats took him and his army to the shores where over a thousand Ironborn were waiting for them with axes and shields, he knew that the time had come for him.
To make that choice.
—
Flashback
"…it, was an… honour… to serve you… my prince."
He held the hands of the old man named Jerard, who had served as one of his guards ever since he came to this world.
The old man whose guts were now hanging out of his body as he laid in the medical tent and took his last breaths.
Shaper gave him an overview of the Jerard's body. Told him of the ways to heal the man. He could do it now if he wanted. But doing so would reveal his power to the world. Rumours would spread and soon enough, the entire world would know.
"my… *cough cough* my family… my…"
"I'll take care of your family." He said as a lone tear slid down his cheek. "Do not worry about them my friend. I'll make sure that they'll never want for anything. I'll make sure your son has a proper job in Dragonstone. I'll make sure that your daughter finds a fine lad to marry. Hell, I'll even pay the dowry myself if I have to. Your family is safe in my hands Jerrard. Go in peace."
Jerard's lips turned into a parody of a smile despite the immense pain, and then he took last breath and his arm went limp.
He lowered his head in shame and guilt and kept holding onto Jerard's hands.
Even now, he could feel the brain activity in Jerard's brain. Feel the warmth of the blood in his veins. Feel how his organs were slowly in the process of shutting down one by one.
His Observe skill stopped showing him 'Gerrard Lvl 6' above the man's head. Indicating that he was dead. But he knew that with his Shaper power, he could still revive the old man.
But just like he had done with everyone else who died before, he did nothing. Too cowardly of how the world will react to him to act.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that it was one of his loyal knights, Ser Brus Buckler.
"He is dead my prince." The Knight said softly. "There's nothing you or anyone could've done for him."
'And that's where you're wrong. I could've done something. I can still do something for him. But I won't, because I'm too selfish. I won't do anything to save the very people who answered my call and then fought and died for me.' He thought.
Guilt stabbed in his heart as he thought of the various sons and daughters who'd lost their father today, various sisters who'd lost a brother, various women who lost their husbands, and the various mothers and fathers who lost a son.
All because he thought too highly of himself to bother helping these people.
The flap of the medical tent lifted as Melisandre entered.
She took one look at him and quickly strode over to him, giving a look to his loyal knight which made him immediately vacate the tent.
Melisandre knelt by his side and gently pried his arm from the corpse of the old man before she pulled him into a hug.
The softness of her body, the fragrance of her perfume, the familiarity of her biology, it all felt like home to him and before he even realised it, his body relaxed and he let himself be cradled in her breasts as she whispered sweet nothings to him.
A few minutes passed before the heavy guilt that had shrouded him ever since the end of the battle lifted from his shoulders and he pushed away from Melisandre's gentle embrace in order to sit on a wooden stool.
Melisandre took a stool beside him and put a hand over his own as a show of silent support while he sat and stared at the corpse in front of him.
The corpse of a loyal servant that he could've saved. Could still save.
"You only lost 73 men my lord." Melisandre said softly. "Only 73 men for killing over 1,000 enemies. No one else could've done any better."
He scoffed and pushed her hand away as irritation bubbled up in his throat.
"I could've ended the battle in an instant." He told her as he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "A single mana bomb. That's all it would've taken to destroy those 7 ships."
"But then you would not have succeeded in capturing those ships." Melisandre reminded him. "Those ships are now yours. To do with as you please. They'll serve you well in the future."
"I could've taken those ships without destroying them." He told her. "I could have flown into to those ships at night and slaughtered everyone. It would have been easy."
A single look at his Status screen gave credence to his words.
NAME: STEPHEN BARATHEON
JOB: THE GAMER
LEVEL: 38 NEXT LEVEL: 41.63%
TITLE: ARMY COMMANDER II
HP: 8,395/8,395
MP: 10,580/10,580
POWER: 188
VITALITY: 153
AGILITY: 76
INTELLIGENCE: 100
WISDOM: 50
FREE STAT POINTS: 197
A year and a few months with his Gamer System. That's how long it took for him to reach the point where he was basically untouchable to anyone in this world.
The only one who could even pose the slightest bit of challenge would be the Dragons and the White Walkers. And he doubted that even they'll be able to do anything to him at this point.
The battle would've been a joke if he had shown even a fraction of his true strength to his people.
"If you killed those pirate scum yourself, then you not would have proven yourself to be a capable battle commander, as you've done now, my lord. A man that others can trust and follow into war." Melisandre said soothingly as she rubbed his back.
"And all it took is for me to sacrifice the lives of other people." He said bitterly.
"Men die, my lord." Melisandre said as she put her stool close to him and draped herself over his shoulder in a side hug. "It says well of your character that you care so much for them. But men die. And they do so all the time. From a shipwreck, a fall down the stairs, an infection, a disease, a sword to the throat, or simply from old age. Men die. And there is nothing you can do about any of that."
"But I can, can't I?" He asked as he looked at her, hoping for her to understand. "I can fly over the sea and save shipwrecked people, I can heal any infection, cure any disease, and reverse old age. I can do so much. And yet I-"
"And if you start doing that, then you'll keep doing it forever." Melisandre whispered gently in his ears. "You can heal as many people as you want. Save as many men, women and children as you can. But at the end of the day, you cannot be everywhere, at every time. People will still die my prince. And you can do nothing but accept that."
He mulled over her words for a moment before he sighed and leaned into her.
"You're right. I've already thought about all of this. If I healed someone today, then more and more people will flock to me everyday from that day onward. To heal themselves or their loved ones. And then I'll be stuck healing people every single day at every single moment. And that's not a life I want." He said. "I want to use my powers to better the lives of others. But not at my own expense."
"That's a wise way of looking at things my lord."
They stayed silent for a few moments before he pulled away from her and rose up to his full height, his decision made. "You're right Melisandre."
"About what my lord?" She asked as she got up as well, sensing his serious intent.
"That people die all the time. And there's little I can do to save all of them." He said, looking intently in the distance. "But just because they can die, doesn't mean they have to. I might not be capable of saving everyone but I can save those that are near me."
"What do are you planning my lord?"
"Make sure no one enters this tent." He told her before he channeled his mana outward and used his skill 'Create ID'.
A moment later, he was in his Empty ID and silence filled the medical tent. Melisandre and the corpses of the dead now missing from their cots.
He gave the empty blood soaked cot one last look before he channeled his mana across his body and willed it to push him upward.
And he flew.
He flew out of the tent and continued to fly higher and higher until he was thousands of meters up in the sky.
Once he was high enough that normal people can't see him properly, he channeled his magic outward and used 'Escape ID'.
A moment later, he was back in the real world and everything in a distant horizon, that would've been beyond his vision back on the ground, was now visible to him.
As he hovered in the sky, he took out his Far eye and scanned the Southern part of the Gullet.
He searched the horizon for a minutes before he found what he was looking for.
A Fleet of ships was sailing past the Gullet, sailing away from the shores of Driftmark and Sharp Point so that they'll be able to enter the Blackwater Bay undetected…
And attack Kings Landing before the city had the time to prepare for them.
'A few mana bombs is all it'll take to destroy that fleet.' He thought to himself. 'I could fly over there and end their miserable lives in an instant. It would be easy. So easy.'
But every action has an equal and opposite reaction. And the sudden and mysterious destruction of the Iron Fleet would no doubt have huge consequences. Consequences that he cannot even imagine right now.
No, he would destroy the Iron Fleet, but not like this.
He'll do it with an army. Just like how he had planned, when Melisandre informed him of seeing them in her visions.
Yes, people will die in the upcoming battles. And he won't be able to save everyone. But he'll do his best to lead them in the battle. He'll not stand at the back any longer and wish for the best.
No. It was time for him to fully embrace thetitlethat Melisandre has so kindly given him.
—
"Your grace. You should move to the back." Ser Brus Buckler said to him as the boat rowed toward the shore where over a thousand Ironborn were waiting for their army.
The other Ironborn had already spilled through the broken mud gate. And he could only imagine the slaughter that must be going on inside the city right now.
He would've preferred to have to caught the Ironborn outside the city gate so that he could slaughter them without the collateral, but it seems like the gate fell before he thought it would.
"Your grace." Another one of his knight spoke up. "I admire your courage and valour. To stand at the front of the army is not something to be taken lightly. But you're too young to go into battle yourself. Please move to the back so that we can protect you."
"Your grace. Please listen to him. If you die, then this battle would be for nothing."
"Your grace. Please-"
He turned and raised a hand to silence any more words from his loyal knights.
The boat continued to row onward and he gazed back at his forces as they followed behind his own boat. Rowing by the dozens to fight their enemies.
But even with dozens of boats in the army, it'll still take multiple trips back and forth for his entire army to land on the shore.
Many will die fighting the Ironborn during that time…
But not if he had any say in it.
"Fighting to land on the beachhead will not be an easy task." He said and his men listened to him intently even though he knew that they were worried about him and wanted him to get behind them as their boat got closer and closer to the shore. "And after securing the beachhead, we'll have to get into the city and fight all the Ironborn that's now inside it. That'll not be easy either."
"I know your grace. But we'll not fail you. Please believe in us and let us lead the army in your stead." Ser Brus Buckler said, sounding almost desperate as they entered the archery range of the Ironborn.
'A good thing that the Ironborn didn't use bows. Or this battle would have had even more casualties.'
He smiled at his loyal knights. At the worry on their faces as they sought to protect him when they were the ones who truly needed his protection.
"I do believe in you. In all of you." He told them. "I'm grateful that you'll allow me to lead you into this battle. And I'm honoured by your loyalty. My men. You've served me well so far. Now, allow me to serve you in turn. To serve my people. My kingdom."
"My prince-" Ser Brus started to say but paused at the look of determination on his face as he turned to one of his most pious knights in his fledgling retinue.
"Ser Celtigar. You are a follower of the Faith, are you not?" He asked.
"I am, my prince." Ser Celtigar answered, looking both confused at his words and worried for the danger he was going to be in as their boat got closer and closer to the shore.
"Then tell me, do you believe in miracles?" He asked and then turned around to look at the Ironborn waiting for them at the shore.
They were now close enough that he could see the looks on their faces, the details on their amour, and the blood on their weapon.
They seemed to be decent warriors. Warriors that could've served well in the Wall…
A pity there were all going to die here and now.
He took out his sword from its scabbard and raised it into the sky so that it was visible to everyone.
Then he channeled his mana into it and activated another one of his skill called 'Enhance Weapon'.
Normally, this skill would only increase the durability, and the damage output of his weapon.
But then he overloaded it with mana, pouring more and more into it, until finally…
His sword glowed.
It was a soft glow at first, only visible to the few in the boat and the Ironborn in front of him.
"By the gods" "Mother have mercy" "Lightbringer" He heard his men muttering behind him while the Ironborn merely looked confused at the sight.
But then his sword glowed brighter and brighter and brighter, until it was a beacon of light, blinding everyone in near vicinity and visible to almost everyone in the army who had a direct line of sight to it.
"Thanks Melisandre." He whispered underneath his breath, being grateful to his woman for giving him the opportunity to use his power while still being accepted by the people of this world.
For allowing him the opportunity to carve his own legend in this world.
...
Then he stepped to the head of the boat, and jumped.
He flew through the sky for a single moment, covering the distance of dozens of meters before he came down and landed on the soft beach, right in front of the Ironborn who were squinting at the sight of his shining blade, unable to even look at it directly.
He channeled more mana into his blade, moulded it with his intent, and created a new skill right then and there.
Mana Blades.
A flash of crescent wave of burst forth from his sword as he swung it at the Ironborn , the blade of light becoming larger and larger as it soared toward them.
The crescent blade reached the Ironborn… and passed through them, as if they were not even there. Cutting through them as easily as a knife cuts through hot butter.
A second passed, and then they fell to the ground, cut in half.
His crescent blade had cleared a dozen meter in an enlarged cone shape in front of him. Killing over a hundred men that were within its range.
The enemies that were outside the reach of the mana blade, and thus survived, look at the sight in front of them in absolute terror. While he himself saw the System notification informing him that Gamer Mind nullified his own horror and disgust at the sight.
He felt numb as he gazed at the army in front of him.
He wondered what these men thought when they looked at him. Did they thought him as a god among mortals. Someone they had no hope of defeating. But someone they must fight regardless. Then he shook his head and tried to remember his objective. To save his men.
And in order to that, he'll have to kill his enemies. Which he was doing spectacularly.
In a single move, he had secured a beachhead for his army, and shattered the morale of his enemies.
'-1200 MP' His notification screen told him and he realised that he won't be able to use his Mana Blade skill too often. In fact, it was better if he did not use this skill for the rest of the battle at all.
But he was far from done yet.
He channeled his mana into his blade once again, making it shine brighter, a beacon for the men behind him…
And jumped in the midst of the Ironborn.
The Ironborn hurriedly raised their weapons to defend against his own or merely tried to get away from him. It didn't matter in the end. His weapon cut through both men and steel as if they were not even there.
A single swing and he cut down 5 of them. Another swing and he cut down 3 of them.
The Ironborn who witnessed this slaughter backed away from him, looking at the scene in horror. Some calling for their drowned god. Others calling for their mothers.
He didn't allow them to leave as he moved forward and cut them in half with impunity.
It was… too easy.
It shouldn't have been.
These were men who had fought many life and death battles before this day. Veterans who had lived decades and would usually slaughter boys his age without breaking a sweat.
It didn't matter.
Gamer System was too Over Powered for this world and it showed.
If it was anyone else then he would've shown some mercy. But as helpless as these Ironborn were in front of him, the innocent people they attacked must be just as helpless before them. They didn't show mercy to those people so why should he?
So he cut through the Ironborn. Blood and viscera flowed around him wherever he went. Ironborn dying by the drove.
A distant part of him noted that his boats has finally landed on the shores. His men spilled out of those boats and fought other Ironborn to secure even more beachhead. An easy task since the Ironborn had already lost all their morale.
He men were doing well enough, so he ignored them in favour of focusing on his own task.
He swung and swung and swung, cutting down anyone who came within his reach. And then came to an abrupt pause as his mana enhanced sword finally clanged against something that it wasn't able to cut through.
He came out of his battle haze and looked at the man who had blocked his sword in surprise.
The man looked just as surprised as him at having managed to block his swing when countless others couldn't do the same.
It was then that he noticed the strangeness of the sword that blocked his own. It had a smoky rippled texture, and pinged in a strange way to his mana sense. Almost as if it was… magical.
There was no doubt about it, this was a Valyrian sword. The first one he'd ever seen in his entire life.
And considering that there were only two Valyrian Swords among the Ironborn, and Red Rain was said to be red in colour, this could only be Nightfall.
He wondered if this is what that White Walker felt when Jon Snow managed to block his sword with Long Claw.
The look of surprised in Ironborn's eyes was immediately replaced by a look of determination and fury as he glared at him. "I'll not go down as easily as the others, monster."
"You will." He promised and then before the Ironborn could even register his words, he moved faster than human eyes could keep up with, and bypassed the sword to pierce the Ironborn's head.
His sword cut through the skull and brain of his opponent and the man looked at him in shock for the briefest of moments before the top half of his face slid to the side and he fell to the ground. Dead.
He picked up the Valyrian sword from the ground and discarded his own before he looked at the Ironborn whose hopeful look turned to despair as soon as he killed their champion.
"Should I continue?" He asked softly.
The Ironborn knees shook at the sight of slaughter in front of them and their grips went slack.
Their weapons fell from their hands, thudding on the soft mud as their knees met the ground. One, then two, then a dozen, and soon enough, the entirety of the Ironborn who had waited for his army at the shores surrendered in mass.
He let out a sigh as his army started to collect their weapons and armour before looking at the broken gates of the city, and at the smoke that was now coming out from within the city.
His job was far from done.
Hopefully, his task of cutting men to pieces will become a little easier with his new sword.
He chuckled mirthlessly as he moved forward, intent on winning this battle before the Ironborn could do any more damage.