Sword light flickered as figures danced and darted.
"Roar—"
Suddenly, during a clash of blades, Dany let out a furious roar toward the wight in front of her.
It was a soul strike, unleashed under the power of her dual dragon spirit state.
"Buzz… buzz…" The wight staggered, swaying like a drunk.
But in that brief moment of disorientation, Dany's sharp sword had already pierced into its neck.
"Hiss—"
Blue blood flowed along the blade, hissing like ice water hitting red-hot steel, evaporating into a misty vapor.
"Your... sword," the wight muttered with effort, lowering its head. Its eyes, glowing with blue starlight, looked in confusion at the smoke-black Valyrian steel sword. Its body tilted and collapsed to the ground—dead.
Starting from the wound on its neck, its flesh and bones rapidly melted away, leaving behind milky-white, glass-like bones that shimmered with a pale light. Slowly, even the bones began to dissolve.
The massive body, strong like Dwayne Johnson's, vanished, leaving only a cold, icy puddle radiating a chilling aura.
"This…" Dany raised the sword before her chest and examined it carefully. Except for a thin layer of frost, there wasn't a trace of blood, not even a single nick or chip.
Valyrian steel truly was the bane of the wights!
"Long live the Dragon Queen! The Dragon Queen is peerless in valor! The Dragon Queen masters both magic and martial skill!" The wildlings, stunned at the sudden death of the wight and watching its body melt away, stood frozen in shock for a moment—then erupted into wild cheers, releasing their overwhelming excitement.
"Her Majesty has won! Her Majesty has defeated the wight!" Aemon, whose heart had been in his throat, finally relaxed, tears streaming down his face as he shouted excitedly to the Night's Watch beside him.
The others didn't mind his loss of composure. In fact, they were even more thrilled than the old maester. One by one, they raised their hands and shouted, "Long live Queen Daenerys! Her Majesty is unmatched in all the armies of the world!"
"She beat the wight in sword combat. If it were me…" Gawdi Farlin had witnessed the duel firsthand. Just trying to imagine himself in her place made cold sweat bead on his forehead, his body trembling with fear.
"Just as I expected," said Barristan Selmy, who didn't understand much about martial arts and thus felt less shaken. "She defeated several powerful knights in the Honeywine Tournament. That 'Crown of Love and Beauty' wasn't exaggerated. Defeating a wight doesn't seem that surprising."
One-armed Donnel stared at him as if he were a fool. "You really think you understood what just happened? Even young Robert couldn't have taken on that wight. And you're saying it's no big deal?"
"That... can't be, right?" The red-nosed old maester shook his head in disbelief.
"You probably couldn't even make out their sword movements, could you?"
"Too far away."
Old Aemon turned around with a bitter smile. "Even with a star-gazing lens, I couldn't see clearly."
"Doesn't matter if you couldn't see their moves. At least you saw how the wildlings reacted, right? Why do you think they covered their ears and stayed far away from the dueling ground?"
"Why?" the old maester asked in confusion.
"You can ask the wildlings yourself in a moment," Donnel shrugged. "If ordinary people can't even approach the battlefield, that means there was a danger we couldn't perceive. And Robert would've had no defense against that kind of magical damage."
"Look, look over there! What are those four wights doing?" Bowen Marsh suddenly cried out in alarm.
"Ah," Old Aemon exclaimed in astonishment, "This… how is this possible? The wights… they're saluting Her Majesty Daenerys?!"
"What?" The Night's Watch were shocked.
And not just them—Dany herself, down below the Wall, was equally puzzled.
After slaying the second wight, Dany didn't pause to flaunt her victory. She immediately conjured a fireball from Drogon's dragonflame and held it in her hand, then watched the remaining four wights approaching through the thick frost fog with cautious eyes.
Before she could ask anything, the four stopped about eight meters away. Two of the wights dismounted, and all four knelt on one knee before her, solemnly speaking a few sentences.
"They're praising your bravery," said Morona, still in disbelief. "The wights have conceded. They acknowledge that humanity won this duel."
"Oh, I see," Dany's worries vanished, replaced by a proud smile. "Hey, ask them what reward the victor gets."
"Uh… Dragon Queen, what could the wights possibly offer?" Morona said awkwardly.
The wights didn't care what the others thought. Still kneeling on one knee, they bowed their heads in respect, then stood up on their own. Two remounted their horses, the other two continued on foot, and without another word, they turned around and disappeared into the northern mists.
"Bastards, where do you think you're going?!" Dany flared with anger. No spoils were one thing—but they didn't even leave behind a single prisoner. The audacity!
"Kill!" she shouted, hurling the massive fireball into the freezing mist.
"Boom—" Flames erupted, waves of heat surging, and the wights' figures reappeared on the ground.
Looking to her sides, Dany turned to Dos on her left, who held a bronze shield in one hand and an iron axe in the other. "Blind one, be my squire. Come with me to kill the enemy."
Yes, blind Dos was a thousand-man commander, with the best shield and weapons. He became her second squire of the night.
Clang clang clang clang...
Toot toot toot toot...
"Kill! Kill! Kill the wights!"
In the next moment, the sounds of gongs and horns rang out from all directions. Wildlings and rangers hidden to the north and east began lighting torches and, together with the Dragon Queen's wildfire, charged at the wights with loud battle cries.
The entire battlefield was ablaze with torchlight, filled with the roars of warriors. Heaven and earth seemed to change color. Surrounded by the enemy on all sides, the wights looked as if they had no way to escape.
"Howl—"
"Howl—"
"Howl—"
It came suddenly, yet was entirely within Dany's expectations—a sharp whistling sound pierced the air as a dozen icy swords once again shot forth from the north.
"Shhh—shhh—shhh!"
In an instant, dozens of wildlings were skewered like frozen candied hawthorns. The northern front was momentarily cleared, and the cries of battle paused as both wildlings and Night's Watch stared in shock at the sudden change.
But Dany had long anticipated reinforcements for the White Walkers. She was also mentally prepared to trade life for life. A true leader must be compassionate and cherish every citizen—but when necessary, she must not fear sacrifice—sacrifice of her subordinates, that is.
To put it bluntly, one ice sword might kill three warriors. Ten swords might only take out thirty men. But if they could leave even one White Walker alive, it could save at least a thousand civilians in the future.
Totally worth it!
"Fight! Do not fear! I am with you, the True Dragon is with you!" the Dragon Queen shouted, raising a great fireball high. Protected by a group of shield-bearers, she led the charge.
"Charge with me! Slay those bastard White Walkers!" she roared, shaking the heavens.
"Screeech—!" Big Black (her dragon) bellowed, scattering the last traces of fear in the hearts of both wildlings and Night's Watch.
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"Kill!" a group of wildlings surged past the Dragon Queen, charging straight ahead.
The White Walkers seemed momentarily stunned. They hadn't expected humans to fight this desperately, without even fearing ghosts.
As the wildlings rushed with torches in hand, two foot soldier White Walkers hadn't yet formed their ice swords.
Yes—each White Walker only had one ice sword. It felt satisfying to throw it, but once gone, they had to consume frost energy to conjure another.
"Ssshhh—sshhh—sshhh—sshhh!" Several torches slammed onto one of the foot soldier White Walkers, hissing like hot coals hitting water.
Nearby, a mounted White Walker let out a screech, raising a broad and long ice sword. With a sweep, a massive arc sliced through the air. Wildlings screamed as severed limbs flew, blood gushed, and cold mist spread.
"Boom!" Dany's eyes turned cold. Her dragon flame fireball became a thick pillar of fire, blasting directly into the mounted White Walker's back.
"Crack—crack—BOOM!" Midair, the White Walker shattered into dozens of icy shards, and the splattered fluid froze the ground and the wildlings' skin with a chilling frost.
"Kill!" Dany focused on both offense and support—forming fireballs from Big Black's breath in one hand, while swinging her greatsword toward a foot soldier White Walker attacking the wildlings.
By now, the White Walker had already reformed an ice sword.
"Clang!" The White Walker turned, and the back of its sword happened to block Dany's thrust.
"Kill!" she unleashed a soul strike—the dragon soul roared. The White Walker staggered, and Dany's sword, missing the ice blade, slammed into its chest armor—only to get stuck.
Damn it! Dany cursed in her heart. The White Walker's armor was so tough that even Valyrian steel couldn't pierce it!
"Screee—!" The White Walker snapped back to its senses, let out a shrill, bone-piercing cry, and slashed its sword toward Dany's shoulder.
The blind warrior Doss, acting as her squire, quickly raised his shield to intercept.
"Clang!"
Sword met shield with a piercing, high-pitched ring. Before their very eyes, a thick bronze shield frosted over, then split in two along with the blind man's body.
From the gaping chest cavity, hot blood and slick entrails steamed as they spilled to the ground.
The Dragon Queen's second squire—had fallen.
"Crash—hiss!" No time to find a new squire. Dany ducked low, slipped under the White Walker's right arm, and slashed her blade upward, carving a shallow groove in the invisible armor. The sword edge traced beneath its armpit, chopping like an axe through wood—resisted, but unstoppable.
"Shhh!" Blue blood gushed out. The pale right arm holding the ice sword fell off. The White Walker let out a ghastly, inhuman shriek, stumbling backward.
Just then, Big Black's fireball flew over. Dany caught it in her left hand.
"Not dead yet?" Seeing that the White Walker was only bleeding and not melting, Dany rejoiced and shouted, "Tie him up—with rope, chains—hold him down and capture him!"
As she shouted, she kicked him hard in the abdomen.
When the White Walker collapsed, four or five wildlings pounced on him.
"Awooo—so cold I could die!" the spearwoman holding his left leg howled, a plume of white breath escaping her mouth.
"Use a shield to brace him—I knew this cold-blooded bastard would be freezing!" laughed a wildling pressing a fur-wrapped wooden shield against the White Walker's head.
Dany stepped over to the spearwoman, slashing swiftly—cutting off both of the White Walker's lower legs and another arm at the elbow. Blue blood splattered, freezing wildlings enough to cry out in pain again.
"Leave a squad of ten to watch him closely."
Then Dany called out to the nearby wildlings and chose a tall, burly one with a giant oak shield as her third squire. Together, they charged toward the White Walker cavalryman, who was still in the midst of a massacre.
As they drew near, Dany felt like she'd stepped into an arcade game—"Dynasty Warriors" style: mount a horse, grab the legendary sword, rapidly tap the directional keys and the attack button—slicing through mobs of enemies. Sword flashes lit the field as wildlings screamed, cut in half. Wooden shields, bronze blades—all shattered. The moment they met the ice sword, they were split apart or instantly frozen and shattered into dozens of metal shards.
The wildlings were equally brave and relentless. Some crouched low to slash at horse legs, others thrust torches at the White Walker—only to be cleaved in two in return.
Several times, the undead horses beneath the White Walkers caught fire. Though White Walkers themselves were hard to burn, their undead steeds were highly flammable.
Each time a steed caught fire, cold mist would waft from the White Walker's body, extinguishing the flames.
"Fire Serpent!" Dany sprinted, closing to five meters from the mounted White Walker, and shouted low.
The fireball in her hand shot forward, forming a wrist-thick, seven-to-eight-meter-long flaming serpent. It slithered through gaps between wildling heads, trailing burnt hair and scorched air. Reaching the White Walker, it coiled around his waist like a binding rope.
(End of chapter)
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