A probing shadow strike—The Night King effortlessly parried it with a slight lift of his spear.
As the shadow attack dissipated, a dozen more shadow figures lunged at him from different angles, each mimicking a different combat stance.
Even ordinary White Walkers possessed combat skills surpassing those of elite knights, let alone their supreme commander, the Night King. With a mere flick of his spear, the battlefield was flooded with icy mist as he deflected each incoming assault—thrusts, slashes, sweeps, and counters—all without shifting a single step.
Holding his spear horizontally, the Night King gathered magic at its tip, preparing to retaliate—only to realize that Wright had vanished from his sight.
Suddenly, his arms were seized from behind, twisted backward, and his entire body was slowly lifted into the air.
The Night King was already a full head taller than Wright, and as a White Walker, his strength far surpassed that of any human. But rather than engage in a contest of brute force, Wright had opted for an ambush.
His figure materialized from thin air—Wright had used stealth magic to conceal himself while his shadow clones attacked. Seizing the moment when the Night King was focused on them, he silently moved in from behind.
With his opponent trapped, unscathed, and at peak condition, Wright wasted no time delivering a lethal blow.
"Fus… Ro… Dah!"
The Night King's body was suspended in midair, arms locked and unable to break free. At such close range, he had no means of escaping the full force of the Unrelenting Force shout.
The devastating Thu'um tore through his torso, scattering his body into fragments. The sheer power of the shout sent a spiraling shockwave into the sky, warping the clouds into a vortex.
But something felt off.
"That was… too easy?" Wright muttered, frowning.
Instinctively, he sensed a rapid movement to his right and immediately released the arms he was holding, twisting his body backward to evade.
A freezing spear shot past, trailing white mist—the tip barely missing his chest plate by a hair's breadth.
Wright quickly adjusted his stance, eyes locking onto the source of the attack.
Fifty meters away, the Night King stood, completely unharmed, staring at him with chilling intensity.
"Two Night Kings?" Wright's gaze flickered to the shattered remains at his feet.
No—something was wrong.
Infusing his left foot with magic, Wright stomped down onto the fallen body.
Crack! The remains shattered into nothing more than icy shards.
"A decoy… crafted from solid ice?" Wright exhaled sharply. "So you've picked up some new tricks."
Clutching his greatsword tightly, he realized the battle would be even more challenging than anticipated.
The Night King spread his palm wide, drawing the surrounding cold into his grasp. In an instant, a massive ice-forged greatsword materialized in his hand.
A low growl rumbled from Wright's throat. He had no time to waste—the human forces were faltering.
With an earth-shattering roar, he launched himself forward, shattering the ground beneath him as he hurtled toward the Night King like a cannonball.
The Night King responded with an icy hiss, propelling himself forward with equal speed, kicking up a cloud of snow in his wake.
Clang! Boom!
The resounding clash of metal echoed across the battlefield, followed by an explosive shockwave.
With no allies around to worry about, Wright unleashed the full extent of his magic.
"Die!"
Every sweeping arc of his greatsword sent waves of crimson energy and crackling lightning surging through the air. The Night King evaded deftly, but the unfortunate wights behind him were sliced apart in droves.
Each downward cleave left trails of fire in the snow, unleashing crescent-shaped sword beams that incinerated any White Walkers caught in their wake.
Yet, the Night King was no ordinary opponent. His ice-forged greatsword responded in kind.
With every swing, jagged icicles as thick as an arm launched forth like spears. Ice shields, ice hammers, ice axes, even ice daggers—his newly manifested ice clones wielded an arsenal of weapons against Wright.
The White Walkers were already formidable warriors, and the Night King, with thousands of years of experience, was without a doubt the greatest of them all.
As both combatants adapted to each other's strategies, their duel escalated into an all-out magical war.
The clear sky above darkened with swirling storm clouds.
From within the roiling tempest, dozens of flaming meteors streaked downward, trailing black smoke as they plummeted toward the battlefield.
Simultaneously, enormous ice spheres, each two meters in diameter, plummeted from the clouds at blinding speed—colliding with the fiery meteors midair.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The resulting explosions rattled the heavens, filling the sky with steam and smoke, as their large-scale magic clashed in a relentless struggle for dominance.
From the ground, razor-sharp ice spires erupted upward in an attempt to impale Wright. He twisted his body, using one as a foothold to propel himself higher.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled a golden restorative spell at the Night King.
The Night King, in response, raised an immense wall of ice to shield himself.
Boom!
The golden magic blast struck the ice wall, carving out a massive hole.
Wright burst through the opening, greatsword raised high.
With a forceful slash, his blade cleaved the Night King in two.
But—
Two icy daggers plunged from either side, slipping beneath Wright's helmet and piercing into his skull.
The Night King's bifurcated form disintegrated into ice fragments.
And the fallen Wright—vanished like mist, fading into the wind.
Not far away, Wright and the Night King were engaged in a magical duel.
Elsewhere, they clashed with weapons, the crisp sound of metal colliding with ice ringing through the battlefield.
In yet another struggle, both had lost their weapons—now, the Night King was yanking Wright's hair while Wright had his teeth sunk into the Night King's neck.
Most striking of all were two colossal skeletons, formed from the bodies of wights.
Initially, they were just two human-shaped skeletons locked in a grappling contest, neither showing any clear sign of which was controlled by Wright and which by the Night King.
As scattered wight remains from the battlefield gathered, one of the skeletons grew into a three-meter-tall giant. Seeing itself at a disadvantage, the smaller skeleton employed the same method, increasing its size to four meters. Yet, it still failed to secure victory—its opponent simply expanded to five meters in response.
Unfortunately, before the giants could determine a winner, they were torn apart as Wright and the Night King—engaged in yet another battle—passed through the area.
Across the battlefield, over a dozen versions of Wright and just as many Night Kings were locked in chaotic combat.
Any given body might be an illusion, and the spells unleashed could also be mere fabrications. Both were waiting for the other to make a mistake.
Wright, with his vast knowledge, wielded an unpredictable mix of magic from various disciplines. The Night King, specializing in ice and soul magic, had also gained some unknown boon, making them evenly matched.
The range of their battle continued to expand, wights crumbling to dust in droves under the collateral damage. Even the White Walkers dared not interfere—any attempt to throw a spear at Wright would be met with a sea of fire or a storm of lightning crashing down upon them.
Around the two, a one-kilometer-wide battlefield lay cleared of wights, and on the human side, all eyes were fixed on their fight.
Wright had not called for Renly's aid. Renly was a king—if he or his dragon were to fall, the human coalition would immediately collapse. Besides, according to their plan, if Wright could not finish this task, then no one else in the world could.
The saddle on Peytvahaaz's back had long been removed. Renly gripped the dragon's spines tightly, preferring to stand—it made spellcasting easier.
With Wright holding the Night King at bay, fewer White Walkers pursued the retreating humans, allowing the coalition to withdraw at a faster pace. Renly, too, had remounted Peytvahaaz and was now launching attacks on the remaining pursuers.
A spear of ice struck Peytvahaaz's neck, but a white glow shimmered across its scales—the draconic armor spell Renly had cast absorbed the attack. In response, golden-red dragonfire erupted from Peytvahaaz's maw, instantly reducing the White Walker and the surrounding wights to ash.
"That was the last White Walker chasing us!" Renly called out, guiding Peytvahaaz toward Harrenhal.
On the ground, more than a third of the human army had already crossed Harrenhal and was continuing its retreat southward along the shores of the God's Eye. A small rearguard unit remained behind to slow the wights—an act of certain sacrifice.
Renly glanced up at Harrenhal's tallest tower. The detection magic had faded—no doubt, the Three-Eyed Raven had been extracted by Jon.
He turned once more toward the distant battlefield, where multicolored flashes of magic still exploded—the site of Wright's ongoing battle.
"Let's hope the Night King takes the bait." Renly tapped his Stormbringer sword against Peytvahaaz's spine. With a low, rumbling growl in response, the dragon gave a powerful beat of its wings and soared toward the center of the God's Eye.