Chapter 43:
Midnight. Winter Express, Third VIP Carriage.
The scenery outside the windows flew past in darkness, accompanied only by the rhythmic "clack-clack" of the wheels striking the rails.
Inside the brightly lit carriage, Victor was playing a board game called "Monopoly" (Victor's modified version) with Tyrion, while Sansa sat nearby reading a book on Southern etiquette and occasionally handed Victor a piece of fruit.
Everything seemed peaceful.
Except for the Hound (Sandor Clegane) sitting by the door, dozing with his greatsword in his arms.
He suddenly opened his eyes.
As a top-tier killer, he had an animal-like instinct for killing intent.
"Something… is on the roof."
The Hound stood up. The burned half of his face looked particularly hideous under the lamplight.
"The roof?" Tyrion dropped the dice. "Don't joke, Sandor. We're doing sixty miles per hour right now. Not even a bird could stand up there."
THUD!
A heavy, muffled impact exploded right above their heads.
Immediately after, the thick oak roof was smashed through like paper by a massive fist wrapped in golden armor!
Wood shards flew. Cold wind poured in.
A giant the size of a small mountain in golden armor crashed into the carriage!
The moment he landed, the entire carriage floor groaned under the strain, and the wheels even slipped for a moment.
Ser Robert Strong (the bio-engineered Mountain).
He said nothing. His eyes, hidden behind the helmet, glowed with an eerie green light and locked dead onto Victor, who was sitting on the sofa.
"Seven hells…" Tyrion dove straight under the table in terror. "What the fuck did this thing eat to grow so big?"
"Take Sansa and go to the next carriage!"
Victor pushed Sansa away while pulling a silver revolver (Colt Python prototype) from his coat.
But the Hound was faster.
"It's you…"
Sandor stared at the familiar yet utterly alien figure before him. The fear in his eyes instantly turned into towering rage.
"Brother."
The Mountain did not respond. He simply raised his hand mechanically and reached for Victor.
"Look at me!!!"
The Hound roared. His two-handed greatsword swept forward with a whoosh!
The strike was heavy and powerful enough to cut a warhorse in half.
Clang!
Sparks flew.
The Mountain didn't dodge or block. He used his armored forearm to take the blow head-on!
The fine steel arm guard received a deep gash but did not break. Instead, the recoil numbed the Hound's grip, nearly causing him to drop his sword.
"That's impossible!" the Hound exclaimed in shock.
Before he could adjust, the Mountain's other hand came swinging like a sledgehammer.
Bang!
The Hound was struck square in the chest and flew backward like a broken kite, smashing through the carriage's wine cabinet. Red wine spilled all over him.
"Sandor!" Sansa screamed.
The Mountain did not pursue the Hound. His target was only one — Victor.
He moved like an out-of-control tank, smashing through tables and chairs as he advanced step by step.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Victor fired three shots in rapid succession.
The large-caliber revolver bullets struck the Mountain's breastplate and faceplate with precision.
Sparks flew. The bullets left deep dents in the armor and even punched through a corner of the faceplate.
But the Mountain only shook his head, as if bitten by a mosquito. His body, transformed by alchemy, had lost all sense of pain. As long as his skull wasn't shattered or his spine severed, he would not stop.
"Damn it, is this the Terminator?"
Victor tossed aside the empty revolver and pulled a rugged, black, long-barreled weapon from his system space.
[System Weapon: Winchester M1897 "Trench Broom" Shotgun.]
[Ammunition: 12-gauge slug.]
[Characteristic: Close-range meat grinder.]
"Sansa, get down!"
Victor roared and racked the slide.
Clack! Chambered.
The Mountain was now only two meters away.
Victor didn't retreat. Instead, he stepped forward and pressed the cold muzzle directly against the Mountain's armored abdomen.
"Physics Lesson Two: Conservation of Momentum."
BOOM!!!
First shot.
The massive recoil jolted Victor's shoulder.
The slug's terrifying kinetic energy at point-blank range tore through the Mountain's abdominal plate armor! A bowl-sized hole appeared instantly, and black-green foul blood sprayed out!
The Mountain's massive body was blasted back a step.
Clack! Boom!
Second shot.
Victor aimed at his left knee.
The pillar-thick leg was instantly shattered, hanging on by only a thread of flesh and skin. The Mountain lost balance and dropped to one knee.
Clack! Boom!
Third shot.
This one hit the Mountain's right shoulder, blowing off the arm that had been reaching for him!
"AAAAAHHHH—"
The Mountain finally made a sound. It wasn't a human scream but the rusty screech of an iron gate being forcibly pried open.
"Still not dead?"
Victor looked at the writhing pile of ruined flesh before him, a cold glint in his eyes.
He kicked the Mountain in the chest, knocking him to the floor.
Then he shoved the still-hot barrel into the gap of the Mountain's helmet.
"Say hello to Cersei for me."
BOOM!!!
This shot blew off half of the Mountain's skull.
Green brains and black blood splattered across the carriage ceiling.
The massive bio-engineered body finally stopped twitching and collapsed like scrap metal.
The carriage fell into deathly silence.
Only the white smoke curling from the shotgun barrel and Victor's heavy breathing remained.
"Remind me…" Tyrion crawled out from under the table, staring at the mosaic on the floor with a deathly pale face, "never to piss you off in the future. What the hell is that weapon? It's basically… a butcher."
"It's called a shotgun."
Victor tossed the gun onto the sofa and walked over to help Sansa up.
"It's over. It seems Her Grace the Queen Regent sent us a big gift."
In the corner, the Hound spat out a mouthful of blood and struggled to his feet.
He looked at the mangled remains of his "brother" with complicated eyes.
"He should have died long ago. But I never imagined… he would end up like this."
Victor walked over and handed the Hound a healing potion (system-made).
"It's not your fault, Sandor. The Citadel and Cersei turned him into a monster."
"Besides…"
Victor kicked the green blood on the floor with the toe of his boot.
"This stuff is toxic. Those old bastards at the Citadel are actually researching necromantic alchemy."
At that moment, the train began to slow down.
Ahead was the transfer station — the Twins.
Victor looked at the gradually sharpening outline of the castle outside the window, his eyes icy cold.
"Bag up the body. Deliver it to the Freys."
"Tell them this is a 'specialty' sent by Queen Regent Cersei."
"Also, assemble the army."
Victor turned around, killing intent surging.
"Attempting to assassinate the Regent is equivalent to declaring war."
"Since Cersei doesn't want to be civilized, I'll help her be civilized."
"Target: King's Landing."
"This time we won't take the train."
"We'll go by airship."
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