Chapter 48: Equipment of the Others
Beyond the Wall — Haunted Forest — Near the Withered Heart Tree
"Do you wish to use the Knight Certificate to perform a Class Awakening for the Night's Watch brother Grenn?"
Jon Snow stood before Grenn, holding a scroll in his hand. After Jon confirmed, the scroll vanished instantly.
It shattered into countless motes of golden light that filled the air before surging directly into Grenn's body.
"This feeling is strange… I feel full of strength! Huh? I actually know how to use a spear? Wait—this… this is knightly training!"
Grenn stared at his hands in disbelief.
Having watched Jon's every movement, Grenn understood perfectly what had just happened.
A massive flood of memories poured into his mind, as if he had lived through ten years in the span of a few heartbeats.
In those memories, Grenn progressed from a squire to a knight-in-training—learning how to don and maintain armor, how to ride a horse, and how to wield both spear and longsword from the saddle.
These experiences had never belonged to him before.
Yet now, after the strange scroll dissolved, those memories felt as real as his own past.
Grenn could only attribute such an occurrence to a miracle.
What astonished him most was that Jon had clearly stated he did not need to believe in any god—only to use this power to fight the Others.
"All right," Jon said calmly. "Take a look. These are the weapons prepared for you."
He gestured toward the blades in their hands.
"They may not be Valyrian steel, but they will not break or dull until the divine power within them is exhausted."
Staring at the exquisitely forged iron swords, Dolorous Edd Tollett and the others could barely contain their excitement.
They had never imagined Jon would turn them into knights.
In the Seven Kingdoms, knights were the lowest rung of the nobility. Though hedge knights wandered the realm in poverty, knighthood itself was still a status most men of the Night's Watch would never achieve.
Yet now, power equivalent to that of a knight had been placed directly into their hands.
"The power within these weapons will be consumed as you fight," Jon continued. "Remember this—when red threads appear on the blade, it means the sword is about to be destroyed."
After giving his warning, Jon felt a dull ache in his chest.
Though he had gained over ten thousand Soul Energy points from the ruins, nearly four thousand had been spent in an instant to awaken his brothers.
Including what he already had, he was left with only around six thousand points.
Every major mission devoured Soul Energy at an alarming rate.
If he spent too little, he couldn't survive what was coming.
If he spent too much, he risked leaving himself empty-handed.
No matter how he calculated it, Jon felt like the one at a disadvantage.
When will the system finally start giving bonus rewards…
And when will I have enough Soul Energy to establish a true knightly order?
Just as Jon was thinking this, a sharp sense of danger reached him through one of the Mo Sha Hounds positioned on the perimeter.
"Whimper—!"
A shrill, drawn-out howl echoed through the forest.
The Mo Sha Hound stationed to the southwest had been killed.
Jon's expression hardened instantly.
Given their enhanced senses, it should have been impossible for a Mo Sha Hound to die without warning.
"Whimper…"
Losses among the Mo Sha Hounds were not uncommon. Though they were magical creatures, they were still only low-level ones.
With overall strength around Level 3, they could overwhelm wights in small numbers—but when surrounded, even they could be torn apart.
Jon looked at the nine remaining Mo Sha Hounds around him.
He considered whether he should summon new creatures.
Now that the altar had been destroyed, the Others were guaranteed to react.
If they wanted to reach the Wall safely, they needed expendable forces to absorb casualties—otherwise, a single mistake could cost them everything.
Then Jon's pupils shrank.
The Mo Sha Hound that had vanished from his perception had returned—standing quietly behind the others.
But it was no longer the same.
Its eyes glowed blue.
The surrounding Mo Sha Hounds instinctively recoiled from it.
For creatures like Mo Sha Hounds, fear of their own kind was rare. Only beings of a far higher level could evoke such instinctive dread.
"Whimper…"
Jon's heart sank.
This was not possession.
This was skinchanging.
Although the television series from his past life never showed the Others using skinchanging, this was a complete world—not a flawed adaptation.
The Children of the Forest, creators of the Others, were masters of skinchanging.
Even the legendary Three-Eyed Crow could peer through time itself.
"Whimper…"
As the blue-eyed Mo Sha Hound approached, the others growled warningly.
They could not retreat any farther.
To them, Jon—wielder of the Magic Stone—was their creator, their king, their demon lord.
"Whimper… roar—AWOO!"
One Mo Sha Hound finally snapped under the pressure and lunged.
The possessed hound retaliated instantly.
Empowered by the Others' strength, it shattered the attacker's lower jaw with a single strike of its paw.
The injured Mo Sha Hound collapsed, its jaw hanging uselessly as it whimpered and crawled back to Jon's side.
Clang—
Longclaw flashed into existence.
The blue-eyed Mo Sha Hound froze.
It clearly recognized the sword as a threat.
After locking eyes with Jon, the blue flames within its sockets slowly faded.
Thud.
The body collapsed like wet clay.
Black, foul-smelling blood poured from its eyes, nose, and rear as its frozen organs lost cohesion and spilled out.
"Prepare for battle," Jon said coldly. "The enemy is here."
That brief exchange had exposed Jon to a terrifying aura—one he had only ever felt once before, from the entity at the heart of the storm beyond the Wall.
Was that… the Night King?
Terrifying… more like a machine than a thinking being.
Jon's warning snapped the others out of their exhilaration.
Their newfound strength made them bold.
Too bold.
"What's there to fear?" Pypar said eagerly. "I feel like I could take on those giant spiders now! Let's see how frightening these monsters really are!"
"Listen to Jon," Dolorous Edd said sharply. "If things go bad, we retreat. If it's just wights, we fight. If it's something worse—we run."
As a veteran of the Night's Watch, Edd lived by a simple rule:
Fight when you can win. Run when you cannot.
It was the same principle used against wildling raiders for generations.
Crack… crack…
"Whimper…"
The Mo Sha Hounds began to growl again.
This time, the pressure was suffocating.
Tap… tap…
Branches and undergrowth rustled all around them.
Clip-clop… clip-clop…
A skeletal horse emerged first, its remaining flesh slick with viscous slime, blue fire burning in its eyes.
Mounted atop it was a humanoid figure made of ice.
Its body was encased in strange, rune-etched armor. The exposed skin resembled frozen sewage—wrinkled, cracked, and radiating bone-chilling cold.
In its hand was a massive ice spear, the head nearly two-thirds the length of the shaft, wrapped in eerie decorations.
"Descending Creature detected: Other Knight (Level 5).
Affiliation: The Great Other.
Equipment: Blizzard Grimoire, Staff of Recovery."
Jon almost laughed out loud.
He had expected a deadly enemy.
Instead, he had found a walking treasure chest.
"Go!" Jon roared. "Kill it!"
All thoughts of conserving strength vanished.
Longclaw flashed as Jon Snow charged straight at the mounted Other.
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