The human coalition launched a three-pronged assault from the east, west, and north. Some wights continued pushing southward, others broke off to fend off the flanking attacks, while some rushed to support the northern front, only to retreat halfway. The wights clashed and trampled over one another in the ensuing chaos, and for a brief moment, the White Walkers' army was thrown into disarray.
According to their strategy, if they could swiftly eliminate a number of White Walkers and vampires within this window, the Night King would be forced to reveal himself and take direct command of the undead forces.
A golden radiance illuminated the entire western battlefield as Rosamund raised her staff high, pouring all her power into her magic.
Rather than targeting the wights directly, she unleashed a spell covering the widest possible area. Under the sacred golden light of her restorative magic, wisps of black smoke rose from the wights' skin, and their movements slowed. For the charging cavalry, that was more than enough.
On the eastern front, Ashara and Ellios carved a path through the wight horde like human battering rams, cutting straight toward the White Walkers that had emerged.
Dornish cavalry, lightly armored as always, did not charge headlong into the enemy ranks like the heavily armored knights of the Westerlands. Instead, they split into several divisions, circling the wights and peppering them with arrows. The ones launching frontal charges against the undead were, surprisingly, the Tyroshi forces.
From the moment both their navy and army were formed, the Tyroshi had been issued standardized weapons—axes. The navy wielded short-handled axes, while the infantry carried massive two-handed battle-axes. Every swing concentrated the full force of their strikes onto the axe blade, making them far more effective at cleaving through wights than longswords.
Robb and Jon took advantage of the wights' disorder to retreat into the cavalry lines. Robb handed command of the Northern horsemen to Greatjon, but instead of rejoining the battle, he took a dozen messengers and rode to a small hill at the rear to observe the battlefield.
"The front lines need us more!" Jon shouted up at Robb from below.
On a battlefield locked in a desperate struggle, a powerful commander should have been leading the charge, not withdrawing to the rear. Even a child knew that abandoning the vanguard was a grievous military mistake. Having been conscripted into this campaign, Jon had been questioning Robb's actions all along, only to receive the same response each time: "Follow orders."
Jon tried again. "What exactly is your plan? Can't you tell me anything?"
"Get some rest," Robb said, pulling a mana restoration potion from his belt and tossing it toward Jon.
"Keep it for yourself! I have my own!" Jon snapped, refusing Robb's gesture.
The encirclement strategy had worked wonders, but it could not make up for the overwhelming disparity in numbers. As the wight army recovered from its confusion, the humans quickly found themselves at a disadvantage once more.
Infantry formations were swallowed whole, one after another. Cavalry charges vanished into the horde, never to emerge again. The flashes of magic grew fewer and fainter.
Jon clenched his fists as he watched more and more of their allies fall. He anxiously switched Red Rain between his hands, left to right, right to left, itching to join the fray. Yet Robb kept him rooted by his side.
Then, from somewhere far away, an immense surge of magic erupted. A shockwave rippled outward at incredible speed, sweeping across the battlefield.
Ordinary humans felt nothing. The mages, however, sensed it immediately. Those with stronger abilities could even see it with their own eyes. To Robb, Jon, and the others, it felt like a colossal magical bubble had detonated, sending a wall of force rushing toward them.
As the wave of magic washed over him, Jon shuddered. He had never felt White Walker magic this strong before. He turned to Robb. "Is that the Night King?"
Robb's eyes were fixed on the sky, where Odahviing was flying toward the explosion's center. He drew his sword. "Messengers!"
"Yes, my lord!" The dozen messengers tightened their reins, bringing their mounts closer so they could hear him over the clamor of battle.
Robb's voice was resolute. "By my authority as Commander of the coalition forces, deliver this order: All human armies, withdraw south immediately! We retreat!"
"Yes, my lord!" The messengers did not need to understand the reasoning behind the command—only to relay it, word for word. They galloped off in all directions, grateful for the chance to finally escape this accursed battlefield.
"Jon!" Robb called again.
Between them, rank and title meant little. Jon roared back, demanding answers. "Why are we retreating? If we abandon this place, we won't be able to hold Harrenhal either!"
Robb's expression did not waver. "I know we can't hold it. That's why your orders are to go to Harrenhal, find the Three-Eyed Raven, and escort him south."
Jon's expression shifted from frustration to confusion, then to rage. He seized Robb's saddle, his voice trembling with fury.
"I thought you had some grand plan when you drew the army away from Harrenhal! But it turns out you were just using the lives of the living to lure out the Night King! Nearly a hundred thousand men have died already—was this your plan all along?!"
Robb's horse grew restless, shifting uneasily. He gripped Jon's arm. "Calm yourself, Jon! If the Night King is not destroyed, humanity will never know peace. This is all worth it! The living will remember their sacrifice!"
Jon stared into Robb's eyes. "You've changed. Ever since you became Warden of the North, ever since you became Commander, you've grown cold and ruthless. If you had told the truth, some warriors would have volunteered to sacrifice themselves—but instead, you deceived them all, leading them to their deaths as bait!"
Robb's gaze turned steely. "You don't understand. How many would have volunteered? A thousand? Two thousand? That's nowhere near enough. Only by committing the full strength of humanity can we draw the Night King out! Now go. Fulfill your mission."
"I will carry out the task you entrusted to me, but I will never agree with your decision." The last word left Jon's lips through the purple shadow, which slowly faded into nothingness.
Robb and Jon—one had ventured deep into the White Walkers' territory in the North, leading the Northerners as they abandoned their homes and fought their way south. The other had remained in the prosperous King's Landing, mainly dealing with thieves and vagrants to maintain order. Though they had both participated in the war against the White Walkers, their perspectives on the grand strategy had begun to diverge.
Watching Jon's purple shadow vanish into the distance, Robb believed that one day he would understand his helplessness. Turning back, he struck his sword against his saddle and charged into the battlefield. His task now was to help as many men as possible break free from the wights' entanglement and retreat. The rest was up to Wright.
---
Oooo~~~
The war drums ceased, and the horns of retreat echoed across the battlefield.
Odahviing soared into the sky. With the Night King no longer suppressing his magic, he stood out like a beacon in the dragon's sight, even as he moved among the White Walkers.
Several magical meteors crashed down upon the White Walkers below, followed by a massive burst of dragonfire aimed straight at the Night King. The cascading flames masked the figure of Wright as he leaped from Odahviing's back.
"Wright! There's something strange beside the Night King!" Odahviing's magical perception was vast, and before Wright got too far, the dragon called out in the language of dragons.
"I see it!" Wright responded. Now aware of the detail Odahviing had pointed out, he spotted a carriage surrounded by the Night King and several White Walkers.
The wight army had no need for food or supplies, yet they had dragged a carriage to the front lines, heavily guarded by White Walkers and even the Night King himself. Even if it wasn't a problem, it had now become one.
Clad in his fully restored dragonbone armor, his awakened dragon soul thrumming with power, and all his defensive enchantments already activated, Wright twisted his body midair. His massive sword gleamed in his hands as he swung it down forcefully.
"Ha!"
A crimson arc of sword energy slashed toward the carriage.
A blast of icy mist erupted from the Night King's hand, coalescing into a massive block of ice that smashed into the carriage. The sword energy struck the ground, carving a two-meter gash into the snow.
The Night King did not stop there. The ice continued to spread, quickly encasing the carriage in a thick layer of frost, while the surrounding White Walkers scattered away.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A barrage of fire-infused meteors crashed into the ground, exploding upon impact.
Dozens of ice spears and blood magic projectiles shot into the sky from various points on the battlefield. Dragonfire rained down upon the ground. Odahviing, despite his massive form, weaved through the attacks with agility, occasionally using his magically reinforced body to tank some of the blows. The dragon lured the White Walkers and vampires away, drawing their attention.
As the fires from the meteor storm began to wane, the wind dispersed the lingering smoke, revealing two figures standing amidst the burned and shattered remains of wights.
They stood atop the scattered bones of the incinerated undead. As if realizing that the wights would be of no use, the densely packed horde did not surge forward. Instead, like a flood parting around a boulder, they split into two streams and continued flowing southward.
One of the figures was clad in shimmering blue chainmail, further reinforced by a layer of crystalline ice armor. In his hands was a long spear of frozen death. A crown of short, jagged horns encircled his head, his pale face marked by one dull, lightless eye and another that burned with blue soul fire. That single blazing eye was fixed on Wright.
"Night King! I've been looking for you for a long time!"
"Bha bu la ka gali jiding!"
Neither could understand the other's words. But they both knew one thing: if either of them fell here, their side would win this war that had lasted for thousands of years.
"Die!"
With a furious roar, a purple shadow identical to Wright shot forward, sword poised for a piercing strike at the Night King.