Before Moat Cailin.
Across the vast ice plain, nothing remained but ruin.
The enormous remains of the Ice Dragon lay scattered amid countless shattered ice crystals and broken bones.
The blizzard seemed to have eased considerably after the victory, even though the sky was still heavy and gray.
As the Others and wights were exterminated, countless faint streams of Dragon's Soul flowed into Lo Quen's golden dragon form.
They numbered in the hundreds of thousands.
Individually, the Dragon's Soul provided by a single wight was negligible, and many wights produced none at all.
Yet with their sheer, terrifying numbers reaching into the millions, the total gain was still astonishing.
The wights and Others brought him a full one hundred thousand Dragon's Souls, raising the purity of his true Dragonblood to 63%.
Lo Quen could clearly feel the changes within himself.
Every inch of his golden dragon body seemed to rejoice. His massive form expanded once more, the colossal creature now over five hundred feet long, radiating a suffocating pressure.
At this point, his size was no longer far inferior to that of the Ice Dragon.
More than just his body, his perception and control of Magic had undergone a qualitative leap.
The already mysterious golden patterns on his scales grew even more intricate and profound, faintly flowing with radiant light.
Most remarkable of all was the indescribable sense of affinity he felt with the Magic in the surrounding environment, as though he himself were its sovereign.
What truly lifted his spirits was something else.
On the system panel, a brand-new active skill icon flickered into existence.
[Explosive Dragonfire Projectile]: Consumes 1000 Magic Points to condense an extremely compressed fire projectile with a diameter of one hundred feet in front of the dragon's maw. The projectile travels at extreme speed with a range of one league. Upon contact with an object or when detonated by intent, it produces a violent explosion. The core of the blast carries immense destructive power and is accompanied by high-temperature flame splatter, dealing devastating damage to all objects within one thousand feet of the explosion point. This skill can only be used while in the ultimate skill state [True Dragon's Descent].
A long-range attack skill.
A surge of exhilaration rose in Lo Quen's heart.
Until now, his methods of attack had relied mainly on dragonfire breath and close combat.
Though overwhelmingly powerful, they were still limited in range and burst potential.
This [Explosive Dragonfire Projectile] was practically a strategic-level weapon tailor-made for him.
Its extreme range, terrifying explosive force, and wide-area damage meant he could deliver devastating blows from beyond the enemy's effective range.
Whether in future large-scale wars or against specific threats, it would play a decisive role.
With a thought, the massive golden dragon body began to emit a gentle golden glow. Its size rapidly shrank as it transformed back into human form.
When the light faded, Lo Quen stood at the edge of the enormous crater left by the Ice Dragon's fall.
Unlike before, he was not naked.
Instead, his entire body was clad in a seamless, radiant suit of golden dragon-scale armor.
The armor fit his form perfectly, its lines smooth and powerful.
Within the fine details of the scales, golden flames seemed to flow.
The helmet was shaped like a majestic dragon's head, making him look like a war god descended from the heavens.
This was not a transformation he consciously created. Rather, when the purity of his true Dragonblood reached a certain level, his blood and Magic naturally condensed into this form of protection.
It both preserved his authority and symbolized that his control over his own power had reached a new height.
The gates of Moat Cailin slowly opened.
Led by Ser Waymar, Lord Wyman, Ser Davos, and Luo Wen, along with wildling leaders such as Mance Rayder and Tormund, nobles, soldiers, and wildlings who had survived the battle poured out through the gates.
They looked upon the king standing beside the Ice Dragon's remains, clad in golden dragon-scale armor and resembling a god, their eyes filled with an awe and fervor beyond words.
No one knew who knelt first.
But in the next instant, tens of thousands dropped to one knee in unison, bowing their heads.
Whether proud knights or freedom-loving wildlings beyond the Wall, at this moment, all submitted from the depths of their hearts.
Lord Wyman's voice shook with emotion, his heavy body trembling as he spoke.
"Your Grace, the great Dragon King! You… you didn't just save Moat Cailin. You saved all of Westeros. You saved every living soul! When despair fell upon us, you became our hope and shattered winter and death! We… we swear eternal loyalty to you. Your will is law, and your radiance will guide us through the Long Night!"
Tears shone in Davos's eyes as he thought of Stannis. Then he looked at Lo Quen before him and spoke from the heart.
"Your Grace, I, Davos, have drifted through life and seen countless kings. But only you are the true chosen one. It was your strength and courage that saved the Seven Kingdoms. The Seven Kingdoms… no, the whole world will remember what you've done."
Mance Rayder lifted his head, his eyes full of tangled emotion.
Shock, relief, and a firm resolve to follow.
"Your Grace, the Free Folk… no, all your subjects have witnessed a miracle. However long the Night may be, as long as you're here, we fear nothing."
Praise and oaths thundered across the frozen plain outside Moat Cailin.
Unlike the grudging surrender at the Redgrass Field, this pledge of allegiance came from the heart.
Lo Quen accepted their worship, his expression calm.
He knew that after this battle, his rule over the Seven Kingdoms was unshakable. No one could challenge it anymore.
"Rise, my subjects."
His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly to every ear.
"Victory belongs to every warrior who fought in blood and fire. Tonight, we hold a victory feast at Moat Cailin, to mourn the fallen and celebrate the living."
With the order given, Moat Cailin instantly became a sea of celebration.
Supplies were scarce, but people brought out everything they had.
Great bonfires blazed in the castle yard and atop the walls, driving back the cold.
Soldiers hauled out stored ale and cured meats. They even butchered and cooked some warhorses that had frozen to death.
The air filled with rich aromas, and the joy of surviving spread through everyone.
Nobles and soldiers, wildlings and knights, set aside their grievances for the moment. They sat around the fires, laughing and talking loudly, sharing food and drink, singing of the King's valor.
Now and then, dragon roars echoed overhead as the great dragons circled in the sky, as if sharing in the celebration.
Just as the feast reached its height, Melisandre, dressed in red, appeared quietly at the entrance to the hall.
She had asked to join the fight against the Others, but Lo Quen had refused and instead assigned her to study the black stone alongside Archmaester Marwyn.
Her arrival drew the noise down to a murmur.
Melisandre approached Lo Quen's throne and bowed with practiced grace.
"Congratulations, Your Grace, on such a glorious victory. Your power is astonishing."
Lo Quen gave a slight nod, signaling her to continue.
Melisandre lifted her head. Her red eyes swept over the nobles in attendance, and her voice turned solemn.
"However, Your Grace, my lords, allow me to remind you: the Lord of Winter has not been defeated. Today's victory has only driven back his servants and his scouts. The Long Night is far from over."
Davos frowned and stepped forward.
"Lady Melisandre, how can you prove the Lord of Winter will return? We saw it with our own eyes. Your Grace destroyed the Others' host, and even that terrifying Ice Dragon fell."
Melisandre smiled faintly.
"Proof? Simple, Lord Davos. Wait until tomorrow. See whether the days grow longer, whether the sun feels warmer. It will not. The Long Night will still come. The true cold is still ahead of us. What we've seen so far is only the tip of the iceberg of the Lord of Winter's power."
Her gaze returned to Lo Quen, her tone sharpening.
"When eternal night covers the world, the Lord of Winter's true host will appear. Then it won't be only Westeros. Even the distant East, Your Grace's homeland, Yi Ti, will not be spared."
"Your Grace, do you remember the Five Forts of Yi Ti? Those five lonely strongholds, linked by walls longer and higher than the Wall itself. They were destroyed in the last Long Night. And this time, without the Wall to shield them, the Five Forts are doomed to fail. The Others and death will sweep across the East and bring everlasting winter to every corner of the world."
"Your Grace, the only way to defeat the Lord of Winter is to follow our Lord's command: find the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, the prophesied Prince, the one who wields Lightbringer, and have him strike down the Lord of Winter and end the Long Night."
The hall fell silent at once.