Chapter 26: Benjen Stark
"Roaaar—"
"Roaaar—"
Two more shrill, piercing cries tore through the night.
The remaining two White Walker commanders raised their crystalline longswords, pointing them directly at Saelen as they howled. From the darkness behind them, another massive wave of wights surged forward, pouring toward him like a frozen tide.
Saelen's heart sank.
Is this really where it ends?
Forcing himself to remain calm, he focused inward and opened the system panel.
---
Name: Saelen Stark
Strength: 5.62 + 0.02 (trainable)
Agility: 3.36 + 0.02 (trainable)
Endurance: 4.56 + 0.02 (trainable)
Spirit: 50 (MAX)
Max level reached. Complete construction tasks to unlock further upgrades. Can be increased by killing magical creatures. Host may control up to 50 animals simultaneously.
Status: Severely injured
▶ [Heal]
Mana: 50
(Wight +0.1 / White Walker +10 / Night King +100)
Mana: 0 (Exchange)
Spirit: 0 (Exchange)
Exchange Rate: 1:1
Skills:
Swordsmanship – MAX
Archery – MAX
Spear Technique – MAX
Horsemanship – MAX
Construction:
Porcelain Factory – Complete
Glass Factory – Complete
Weapons & Armor Workshop – Complete
Paper Workshop – Incomplete
---
As expected.
After killing so many wights, both his Spirit and Mana had reached their limits—and a new option had appeared.
Without hesitation, Saelen selected [Heal].
The interface shifted.
---
[Critical injury detected. Spend 10 Mana to heal?]
▶ [Confirm]
[Frost God Mark detected in host's body. Spend 10 Mana to remove?]
▶ [Remove]
---
Saelen confirmed the treatment.
Warmth flooded his abdomen. The pain vanished instantly, replaced by a pleasant, soothing heat. Aside from lingering exhaustion, his body felt completely restored.
A built-in healer… this system really is outrageous.
There was no time to study it further. The battle wasn't over.
Saelen closed the panel and raised Ice once more.
With a thunderous shout, he charged straight at the White Walker commanders.
His blade blurred into streaks of silver as he cut left and right, plunging deep into the wight horde. Wherever he passed, bodies collapsed in pieces. Limbs flew. Heads rolled.
By the time he reached the White Walkers, a wide corridor of destruction had been carved straight through the undead ranks.
Saelen lifted Ice, preparing to press the attack—
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
A chain of explosions erupted to the right of the wight army.
Within moments, that entire flank was obliterated.
Firelight flared against the darkness—and in that blazing glow, three massive elk burst forward at full charge. Five riders sat astride them, hurling black spherical objects as they rode.
Each sphere exploded upon impact.
Wights were torn apart in clusters, their frozen bodies shattered by fire and force alike.
The riders thundered straight toward Robb and Jon's position, clearing the battlefield with terrifying efficiency.
Saelen stared in disbelief.
…That timing.
And then a single thought cut through the chaos, sharp and undeniable.
Benjen Stark.
He knew it in his bones.
Benjen had come.
He didn't dwell on it. Without hesitation, he retreated at once, sprinting back toward his people.
The two remaining White Walker commanders did not pursue him. They merely stood there, watching in silence.
Saelen made it back safely. At the same time, the riders on the elk shattered the wights' encirclement from the right flank. One man—dressed much like a Night's Watch ranger—strode forward. His face was covered as he looked at Saelen and the others.
"We've cleared the wights on this side for now," he said urgently. "Come with us. Quickly."
As he spoke, he pulled down the black face covering.
"Uncle Benjen?!" Jon cried out in shock.
Robb stared as well, stunned. The man's face was familiar—undeniably Benjen Stark's—but his eyes now glowed an icy blue, and a long scar cut across his face.
"Uncle Benjen, what happened to you?" Jon asked anxiously. "We've been searching for you!"
"I don't know why you two are here," Benjen said sternly, "but this is no time to talk. Move—now. We'll explain once we reach a safe place."
The moment Saelen confirmed the man was Benjen Stark, he roughly understood what had happened. Time was critical. There was no room for questions. Under Benjen's lead, they gathered the wounded and broke out to the right.
Their horses had been slaughtered early in the battle; the few survivors had bolted in terror. They had no choice but to flee on foot.
Two elk stayed behind the group, covering their retreat. The riders atop them hurled black spherical objects into the pursuing wights. Each one detonated with a deafening roar, blasting apart entire clusters of undead.
Saelen used the chance to study their rescuers.
They were barely half the height of the others, with green eyes, wearing garments woven from animal hide and slender vines. Their brown hair was threaded with living creepers. One of them glanced directly at Saelen.
Explosion after explosion echoed through the forest as the wights fell in droves. The distance between them widened rapidly—until at last, the undead vanished from sight. No one dared stop. They ran on in grim silence.
Only when dawn began to pale the sky did Benjen signal for them to halt and rest.
Seizing the moment, Saelen shifted his consciousness into a hawk and sent it soaring back along their escape route. He flew far, finding no sign of pursuit. He then circled their surroundings carefully before returning.
Only then did Saelen finally exhale in relief and return to his body.
The instant his eyes opened, he met a pair of green eyes.
It was the same one from the night before.
Saelen knew this figure had been observing him for some time now. He didn't react—only smiled calmly in response.
He already had a good idea who they were.
The Children of the Forest.
According to the stories, they had fought the First Men for thousands of years, losing more often than they won. When the Andals invaded Westeros with iron weapons and a new faith, the Children were slaughtered in vast numbers. In desperation, they used ancient magic to create the Night King.
Their intent had been to defend themselves—but the magic spiraled out of control. The Night King recognized no allies: Children, First Men, Andals—any living being became his enemy. In the end, all three factions were forced to set aside their hatred and fight the White Walkers together.
That was the legend, at least.
Saelen didn't fully trust it. Too much time had passed. Too many truths had been lost or distorted. The real answers would need to be uncovered slowly, in time.
"Uncle Benjen," Jon finally asked during the rest, unable to contain himself any longer, "what happened to you? How did you know we were here?"
"And… what's wrong with your eyes?"
Benjen Stark did not answer immediately. His expression darkened as he looked at them both.
"Questions can wait," he said gravely. "First, tell me this—why are you here?"