The returning column stretched out like a long black thread along the Kingsroad.
Because of Lynn, Jon Snow had not asked Tyrion Lannister to check on Bran.
Therefore, upon learning that Lynn was returning to Winterfell, Tyrion had departed ahead of them.
Lynn's dragon was well-hidden; Tyrion remained completely in the dark. He knew only that Lynn possessed an egg.
In the dead of winter, the roads of the North were harder to traverse than ever.
Snow blanketed the earth, and the wind scraped against every cheek like a knife.
Yet, the morale of the column was extraordinarily high.
Lynn rode at the vanguard, his hundred loyal men close behind.
Now that the Night's Watchmen were considered his own faction, killing hostile creatures yielded experience points for him as well. After some consideration, Lynn had decided to bring them along, just in case.
Every man radiated the grim aura of a veteran who had seen a hundred battles.
A commander who could slay White Walkers, find dragon eggs, and earn the deep respect of the Lord Commander was worthy of their absolute loyalty.
Arya rode her gentle mare close by Lynn's side.
She no longer chattered incessantly as she had on the way north. Her small face bore a stillness that belied her age.
She simply watched Lynn's profile with her bright grey eyes, unblinking, as if she could never look enough.
Three small heads poked out from the thick fur bundle in Lynn's arms.
Winter's heads looked curiously at this frozen world, occasionally letting out soft, chirping hisses.
Lynn spent most of the time in silence.
He was pouring over the ancient High Valyrian texts Maester Aemon had left him.
These books, made of old parchment, recorded a language and history long forgotten by the world.
Lynn's mental capacity far exceeded that of ordinary men, and his learning speed was terrifying. In just a few days of travel, he could already stumble through some simple phrases.
"Drakaris..." (Dragonfire)
Lynn recited the word silently in his mind.
In his arms, Winter's right head—the one with blood-red eyes—suddenly lifted excitedly.
It spat a small puff of black smoke mixed with faint sparks toward the sky.
Though still a hatchling, and its breath merely harmless smoke, it had genuinely performed the action of breathing fire.
It worked!
A surge of wild joy rose in Lynn's heart.
This wasn't just a word.
It was a command.
One day, it would grow into a true dragon.
And with dragonfire that could burn everything to ash, it would sweep away every obstacle in his path.
Night fell.
The company made camp beneath an abandoned watchtower.
Bonfires were lit, driving away some of the chill.
Soldiers sat around the flames, warming dry rations and talking in low voices.
Lynn did not join them.
Alone, he climbed to the top of the watchtower.
He sat cross-legged, placing the two Valyrian steel swords—Longclaw and Dark Sister—across his knees.
He closed his eyes.
The noise of the camp faded away.
His consciousness began to ascend infinitely, detaching from his flesh and merging with the pulse of the world.
Greensight.
He was going to attempt that feeling again.
This time, his target was clearer.
Arthur Dayne.
The Sword of the Morning.
Legend had it he was the greatest knight in the history of Westeros.
Lynn focused his mind, reciting the name over and over in his thoughts.
His consciousness traveled through the endless river of time.
Countless fragmented images and chaotic sounds flashed past his ears.
He saw dragons breathing fire over Harrenhal.
He saw the First Men and the Children of the Forest signing the Pact on the Isle of Faces.
He even saw a silver-haired Valyrian riding a dragon, setting foot on Westerosi soil for the first time.
These were the deepest memory imprints of the continent.
Lynn forcibly pulled his consciousness away from these grand historical tableaux.
He knew that with his current Spirit, he wasn't strong enough to pry into such distant pasts.
He needed a closer, clearer anchor.
The Tower of Joy.
The place of the final duel between Eddard Stark and Arthur Dayne.
The moment the thought appeared, Lynn's consciousness found its direction.
The surrounding scenery began to clarify.
The ice and snow of the North receded, replaced by the sun-baked red earth of Dorne.
A solitary round tower stood amidst the red mountains.
The Tower of Joy.
Lynn's consciousness, like an invisible ghost, passed through the stone walls of the tower.
He saw it.
In a sun-drenched courtyard.
A man in silver-white armor, his helm adorned with white wings, stood quietly.
In his hands, he held two swords.
One was forged from a fallen star, radiating a pale, milky light—the legendary blade, Dawn.
The other was a standard knightly longsword.
He wasn't wearing his helm. His silver-gold hair drifted gently in the dry Dornish breeze.
His handsome face held a perpetual hint of melancholy, but his eyes were as calm as deep water.
Arthur Dayne.
He wasn't dueling anyone.
He was simply practicing.
One man, two swords.
His movements were not fast.
One might even call them slow.
But every motion was filled with rhythm and beauty.
A parry with the longsword in his left hand, a thrust with Dawn in his right.
His body spun, the dual blades becoming two streams of light, carving perfect arcs in the air.
Pure swordsmanship.
A style that perfectly blended strength, speed, technique, and balance!
Lynn's consciousness was completely immersed.
His mind held nothing but the trajectory of those two swords.
He greedily absorbed and memorized every movement of Arthur Dayne, every detail of force application, every shift of center of gravity.
[Detecting host observing legendary swordsmanship...]
[Attributes sufficient. Analyzing combat techniques of "Sword of the Morning" Arthur Dayne...]
[Analysis complete!]
[Congratulations, Host. You have learned a new skill: Dual-Wielding (Novice)]
[Congratulations, Host. Your skill "One-Handed Sword (Expert)" has gained significant insight. Proficiency greatly increased!]
[Congratulations, Host. Your skill "Light Sword (Mastery)" has gained significant insight. Proficiency greatly increased!]
A series of System notifications exploded in Lynn's mind.
A massive stream of information flooded his consciousness instantly.
It was the essence of Arthur Dayne's swordplay!
Lynn snapped his eyes open.
He was still sitting atop the watchtower, the two Valyrian steel swords across his knees.
The night wind was cold, the stars brilliant.
It was as if nothing had happened.
But Lynn knew everything had changed.
He stood up slowly.
His left hand gripped Dark Sister.
His right hand gripped Longclaw.
He closed his eyes. In his mind, Arthur Dayne's silhouette appeared once more.
Lynn moved.
The twin blades in his hands carved two intersecting silver trails under the cold moonlight.
Parry, spin, thrust, sweep...
Movements he had never learned before, yet they felt as familiar as if he had practiced them a thousand times.
He was no longer Lynn.
In this moment, it was as if he had become the legendary Sword of the Morning.
The set finished.
Lynn sheathed his swords and stood still, his chest heaving slightly.
A sensation of power, stronger than ever before, filled his limbs.
He looked at the swords in his hands.
A crazier, bolder idea took root in his heart.
What if... what if I used this method to 'watch' every legendary figure who left a mark on Westerosi history?
To learn their techniques, steal their knowledge, uncover their secrets...
What would I become then?
A monster... possessing every legend within one body?
The corners of Lynn's mouth curled up uncontrollably.
Finally, it turned into a low, suppressed laugh.
He opened his attribute panel.
Name: Lynn
Strength: 7 (21%)
Agility: 6 (24%)
Constitution: 6 (2%)
Spirit: 25 (0%)
[One-Handed Sword (Expert) 852/1000]
[Light Sword (Mastery) 483/500]
[Dual-Wielding (Arthur Dayne Style) (Novice) 1/10]
[Riding (Proficient) 1/100]
[Unarmed Combat (Mastery) 0/500]
[Archery (Proficient) 0/100]
[Herbalism (Proficient) 0/100]
[Ice Magic (Mastery) 192/500]
[Greensight (Novice) 1/10]
[Skinchanger (Novice) 1/10]
Remaining Experience: 301 (Gained from Night's Watch killing Wildlings)
Looking at the new skill and the massively increased proficiency, Lynn was in high spirits.
He had ample experience points. This world no longer held any secrets from him.
He could absolutely mold himself into a monster proficient in everything!
However, the limitation of Spirit power remained a bottleneck. He had to rely on time to recover naturally.
If only there were a way to recover Spirit quickly.
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