From afar, Jaime Lannister watched in despair as King's Landing was ravaged by the blizzard.
In his eyes, even mighty Dragonriders were like withered leaves caught in a whirlpool amidst the blizzard, completely unable to struggle, merely drifting with the current.
Even if he brought all the troops at his disposal as reinforcements, what could he do against such a deteriorating battle situation?
Suddenly, a chill rose from behind him, and the wind outside the tent seemed to turn sinister and cold.
Jaime Lannister turned his head, only to see a beautiful young woman with auburn hair, alone and heavily pregnant, leaning against a tree in the Kingswood outside King's Landing.
Her fingertips were dug deep into the tree bark, her knuckles white from the strain.
There was no midwife, no hot water, no encouraging whispers.
The air was cold like the heart of winter.
"Sansa Stark?"
Jaime Lannister was greatly alarmed.
This young woman had only recently disappeared in the Narrow Sea; how could she appear here, heavily pregnant?
Before Jaime Lannister could ponder further, her belly suddenly trembled violently, as if a "monster" within her, tearing frantically and eager to be born, was about to emerge.
"This is definitely not the gestation of a normal life; this is a product of magic."
Jaime Lannister stood frozen, at a loss.
Indeed, the intense pain came without warning, yet surged like a tide.
At first, it was just a cold spasm in her lower abdomen, as if an invisible icy hand had clutched her womb.
Then, that chill suddenly exploded, transforming into thousands of red-hot steel needles, frantically piercing along her nerve endings to all her limbs and bones.
Sansa Stark groaned, her body arching uncontrollably, as if a cold hook was stirring inside her, threatening to rip out her organs and reshape them into a monster.
Sweat instantly soaked her bangs, clinging to her skin, only to be frozen the next moment by the bone-deep chill, sending shivers through her.
Her teeth began to chatter, clattering, her vision blurred, and the flickering torches in the blizzard shattered their light into fragments, dancing wildly before her eyes.
She could "feel" it—that shadow, that "child" nurtured by her bloodline, her enemies, and all the betrayal and pain she had endured.
It had no warm fetal movements, only a greedy, cold sucking.
It was not drawing nourishment, but rather drawing her life force, her emotions, all the bright and warm parts of her soul, transforming them into pure, cold darkness.
"Ugh..."
A suppressed groan of pain squeezed through her clenched teeth, sounding exceptionally clear and horrifying in the empty corridor.
The feeling was as if her body was being cut open from within by a cold, sharp blade.
She looked down and saw her shadow at her feet boiling and twisting frantically.
It no longer obeyed the rules of light, but rather writhed violently like a viscous black oil with a mind of its own, its center constantly bulging upwards, outlining the prototype of a humanoid silhouette—slender, grotesque, with the sharp claws and pointed snout of an Ice Wolf.
Yet its face bore an uncanny resemblance to Viserys Targaryen!
A stronger tearing sensation struck, as if a piece of her soul had been ripped away, peeled off with the "birth" of that shadow.
Extreme cold and intense pain intertwined, causing her vision to blacken in waves, almost making her faint.
She bit down hard on her lower lip until she tasted the sweet tang of blood.
That tiny prick of pain became the only anchor against the destructive cold surge within her.
Just as she thought she was about to be completely swallowed and torn apart by this agony,
"Pfft..."
A faint, almost imperceptible sound, like a bubble bursting.
That darkness, which encapsulated her extreme pain, finally completely detached from the invisible "umbilical cord" connecting it to her body, and was fully delivered from her shadow.
It was an Ice Wolf phantom, composed entirely of flowing shadows and ghostly blue ice shards, emanating an aura of death and vengeance.
The intense pain receded like a tide, leaving behind a cold numbness of being completely emptied, almost to the point of collapse.
Sansa Stark slid down the wall to the ground, gasping for air, each breath carrying a misty chill.
Her face was ashen, sweat and tears mixed together, clinging to her cheeks like icicles.
She had succeeded.
Using her own Ice Wolf bloodline as a womb, and pain as the price, she had given birth to this vengeful shadow for Viserys Targaryen.
Meanwhile, in the shadows outside the Kingswood, Jaime Lannister stood frozen, his entire body trembling slightly.
He had witnessed the entire process of Viserys Targaryen performing dark magic.
He had seen the blood and screams of women giving birth; though painful, it was filled with hope.
But this scene before him was by no means the birth of life.
It was more like a sacrifice, a cruel desecration and distortion of life by dark magic.
He looked at Sansa Stark's face, twisted with extreme pain, yet remarkably resolute, and at the ominous shadow wolf spirit that had "separated" from her body.
An unprecedented chill, more biting than any blade, shot up his spine.
This was no longer the Sansa Stark who needed care, the one called "Little She-Wolf."
This was a dark magical sacrifice that he completely failed to comprehend, and even felt a hint of fear towards.
The next moment, a curse originating from the ancient Stark bloodline of the North erupted like an undercurrent suddenly breaking through the ice.
The cold air swirling around the Night King experienced a momentary disruption, as if a vassal who had served for years had suddenly defied the will of his king.
A one-in-ten-thousand-second flaw, but for Viserys Targaryen, it was enough.
"Now!"
He roared, not just at the Dragon, but at himself.
Sunfyre, understanding his intent, immediately seized that fleeting opportunity, turning sideways in an almost self-destructive manner, pouring all his strength into his Dragon wings, forcing a charge from an impossible angle!
The ruby on sword of dawn burst forth with a blood-red light that tore through the sky!
Cracks appeared in the endless glaciers of the Night King's eyes for the first time.
It was not fear, but an unbelievable fury.
How dare an ant resist?
How dare dust try to obscure the heavens?
But it was already too late to regret!
The shadow wolf spirit, bearing the face of Viserys Targaryen, transformed into a black lightning bolt, piercing with cunning and ferocity towards the Night King's heart, which was slightly exposed due to the disrupted cold aura!
sword of dawn, imbued with Dragon blood and true fire, arrived immediately after!
"Swoosh—!"
The longsword entered his body, emitting a piercing shriek like cracking ice!
sword of dawn and the shadow wolf spirit collided on the Night King's frost-covered bones, creating sun-bright spots of light.
The Night King's entire body trembled violently, and his crown of ice suddenly shattered.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
He looked down, disbelievingly watching the ruby-hilted blade pierce his eternally frozen body.
He was wounded.
By a mortal, a life he deemed as dust, who had left irreversible scars with the fire he despised and a bloodline curse.
"Did you think I didn't know, Night King, or perhaps a Stark sacrificed by the Children of the Forest in ancient times!"
Viserys Targaryen sneered.
Looking at the sneering Viserys Targaryen before him, the Night King seemed to suffer immense humiliation!
He, the King of Everlasting Winter, had his identity seen through by Viserys Targaryen from the very beginning.
"Awooo—!!!"
A mighty roar erupted from within the Night King, and the blizzard around him exploded with unprecedented ferocity.
All the glass in King's Landing instantly turned to dust, and the remaining buildings trembled.
The blue light in his eyes was no longer cold stars, but transformed into burning, tyrannical hellfire!
The ice spear in his hand instantly shattered and reformed, becoming an even larger greatsword, wreathed in black, dead energy!
The deity of the Land of Everlasting Winter had been completely enraged by Viserys Targaryen.
The Long Night grew even deeper with the god's wrath.
Viserys Targaryen was struck by this pure will of Everlasting Winter, sent flying backward, his tiger's mouth split open, and sword of dawn slipped from his grasp and disappeared.
Sunfyre let out a pained wail, and hot Dragon blood spilled onto the solid ice, emitting wisps of smoke.
"You—have angered me!"
The Night King, having lost his Hatchling Dragon, fell to the ground.
His eyes blazing, he stared intently at Viserys Targaryen and spoke.
This was the first time he had actively spoken to a human in a thousand years!
The previous battle was a contest of ice and fire, but now, only the most primal, most insane fire of vengeance remained in the air.
The Night King was no longer indifferent, no longer aloof.
For the first time, in a true sense, he regarded the mortal before him as an equal enemy.