Yigen circled the sky several times above the isolated peak. The crimson-bodied titan dragon sliced through the air as if the heavens themselves had been split open by its wings. Each beat of those colossal wings generated fierce currents, scattering loose snow and stirring whirlwinds across the summit.
After some exploration and adjustment, Yigen finally found the most suitable flying posture.
Instead of keeping his newly grown front claws dangling awkwardly, he tucked them tight against his abdomen, pressing them close to reduce drag. The shift was subtle but effective — his movements became smoother, steadier, far more controlled.
The effect was immediate.
With his claws tucked and wings stretched like a gigantic sail, Yigen's speed surged.
Air rippled around him in a sweeping roar, forming a sharp cone of airflow at his snout. In the sky, the massive dragon became a streak of red, piercing through clouds like a spear of flame.
Rayder watched from the peak, a complicated mix of awe and pride surging in his chest.
Titan bloodline… truly terrifying.
Not only had Yigen grown larger and more majestic, but his raw power and mobility had doubled, perhaps even tripled. Rayder could feel it through their mental bond — a kind of explosive vitality that hadn't been present before.
"If I had enough energy points," Rayder muttered under his breath, "I'd evolve Im the same way right now."
Unfortunately, reality was cold.
Energy points were like money — no matter how many he had, they were never enough. He always found himself wishing for more.
Yigen continued circling the sky for almost the length of a burning incense stick before finally returning. He descended slowly, wings beating the air with the ear-splitting thunder of a hurricane. Snow and dust spiraled around him as he touched down on the rocky platform.
With controlled precision, Yigen landed vertically — no long runway, no awkward build-up.
A perfect landing.
Im, meanwhile, was only just returning from his own flight attempt.
Compared to the Titan-blooded Yigen, Im's movements were noticeably slower. His obsidian wings flapped hard, struggling against the turbulent air left in Yigen's wake. His landing was rougher; his wings trembled slightly, and his chest heaved with exhaustion.
Im let out a weary roar — half frustration, half complaint.
Rayder walked toward him with a faint smile. Through their bond, he could feel Im's emotions clearly: discouragement, jealousy, and a slightly childish desire for reassurance.
Rayder reached out and stroked the dragon's massive head.
"Don't be discouraged," Rayder murmured. "You'll be just as strong soon. You're already incredible. You only need time."
At his words, Im's golden eyes brightened. The enormous dragon lowered his head and nudged Rayder's shoulder with gentle affection.
Rayder nearly stumbled.
"Honestly…" he sighed internally. A nearly two-hundred-year-old dragon acting like a spoiled child. How is this appropriate?
But he didn't say it aloud. Dragons were intelligent — frighteningly so. They weren't mere beasts; they could understand complex emotion, commands, intent.
And through Bloodfire Magic, a dragon and rider shared not just a mental link, but a soul-deep bond.
Dragons would willingly die with their rider — not because they were tamed, but because they chose to.
Rayder opened the system space. With just a thought, piles of stored meat appeared beside him like miniature hills made of crimson flesh. He distributed the meat between Yigen, Im, and Ghidorah. The three dragons quickly began feasting, tearing apart whole slabs of mammoth meat with ease.
The long wait had cost Rayder valuable time; dusk was already falling.
A cold breeze swept across the peak, carrying flecks of frost and the fragrance of snow. The sky darkened gradually, painting the land in shades of deep blue.
Rayder decided: they would rest for the night and move at dawn.
He already had a plan.
In the coming operation, the dragons would stay hidden until needed, while the wights would take on the primary fighting role. After all, the Savage Tribes had become aware that someone — or something — was hunting them. The method of wiping out entire tribes in a single sweep would no longer work.
The Wildling chieftains might not match Rayder in intelligence or power, but they weren't fools.
They would have prepared countermeasures.
And Rayder didn't want to leave obvious evidence implicating himself.
The murders had become… messy.
More importantly — Rayder had a reputation to maintain.
He didn't want the world to remember him as a mass murderer of tribes.
So he needed someone to blame.
The perfect scapegoat?
The Night King.
After all, he was already considered the embodiment of evil — fear incarnate. Hanging the crimes on him was practically expected.
Rayder smirked to himself.
Perfect. Let the world tremble at a villain I can control.
---
In The Land of Eternal Winter
Deep in a throne chamber of ice and perpetual night, the Night King sat motionless upon his frozen seat.
His appearance was solemn, carved from winter itself. His severed arm — the one Rayder had taken — had already begun regenerating. Icy flesh slowly spiraled outward, forming bone, then muscle, then the chilling pale skin unique to White Walkers.
He sensed nothing of what Rayder plotted.
He did not know that someone had begun using him as an excuse — branding him the executioner of tribes he had never touched.
He did not know that Rayder had created wights and sent them out under his name.
The Night King was completely unaware that his image of terror was being leveraged — manipulated — for someone else's convenience.
Far away on the peak, two massive dragon silhouettes stood quietly next to Rayder's tent — dark giants guarding the night.
Yigen's red scales reflected starlight like molten metal.
Im's black scales absorbed the light entirely, like a living shadow.
Together, they stood silent. Watchful. Patient.
And Rayder began.
His magical capacity wasn't inexhaustible yet, but it was enough to control hundreds of wights at once.
He first targeted wandering wolf packs. Rayder infused the corpses with magic — cold, tinged with the lingering divinity of the Night King's severed arm. One by one, the bodies stiffened, then rose.
Hundreds of Icefield Wolves stood frozen for a moment — then their eyes ignited with eerie blue light.
Rayder ordered them forward.
The pack sprinted silently across the snow, leaping over dunes and frozen streams, heading straight toward the outer defensive patrols of a Savage Tribe.
This was reconnaissance — a test.
He needed to understand the tribe's strength before deciding his next steps.
It didn't take long for the battle to begin.
The Icefield Wolves tore through the first layer of guards like a rushing blizzard. Fangs sank into flesh, blood spilled across snow. The night echoed with screams.
But then—
crash—thump—thud
Something was different.
Savage warriors surged forth with torches and weapons. But not just steel — dragonglass blades.
That was when Rayder spotted them.
Figures wearing black cloaks. Raven insignias.
The Night's Watch.
"Well… this complicates things," Rayder muttered.
The Icefield Wolves swarmed, but their bodies were sliced apart by dragonglass. Wights collapsed. Blue flames in their eyes dimmed.
One after another, the wolves fell — not even lasting fifteen minutes.
Less than fifty Wildlings died. In contrast, hundreds of Rayder's wights were wiped out.
Rayder stood from a ridge overlooking the battle, his expression shifting from surprise to amusement.
"So… the Night's Watch has entered the game."
He hadn't expected that.
---
Meanwhile — At the Wall
When news reached the Lord Commander, Rosser Borelli, he froze.
Witnesses reported:
> "More than a dozen Wildling tribes vanished without a trace."
At first, he rejected the reports — irrational, impossible, absurd.
But three scouting parties confirmed the same thing.
Rosser Borelli's voice shook with urgency as he issued the command:
> "Raise the watch! Prepare for battle!
Winter is coming!"
For the first time in many years, torches lit every tower of the Wall.
---
Back on the Peak
Rayder stood with the cold wind biting his face, watching the Savage Tribe defend against his wights.
He didn't feel anger.
He felt anticipation.
"So… this tribe is stronger than the others. Even the Night's Watch is here."
He grinned.
This was only the beginning.
Tomorrow — the real operation would start.
He turned toward his dragons.
"Rest well. Tomorrow, we hunt."
The dragons let out soft, rumbling growls in response.
The night wind blew across the mountain peak — whispering, sharp, icy cold.
But in Rayder's heart, a flicker of fire burned.
A new plan.
A new battlefield.
A new escalation.
--
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